The night once again enveloped Old Dunling, and the moonlight could only reveal a slight brightness amidst the gloom, slightly lighting the heavy lead-gray, while in the cold wind, giant steel whales swam in the clouds of the night sky, casting glaring lights that stirred the murky mist.
Hig walked along the foggy street; every winter, the weather in Old Dunling became unbearably wet and cold. Massive steam surged from the underground pipes, with the not-yet-cooled warm air carrying a thin mist, making the cold unavoidable.
His cheeks looked somewhat gaunt, swaying as if he had lost his soul.
This wasn't really the way home for him. Under the gaze of the streetlights, Hig could hardly endure the restlessness within him, as if another voice whispered in his ear, urging him to step into the sinful abyss.
"Damn it! Damn it!"
