Midnight.
In the park, a shadowy figure swiftly darted and leapt between branches, the twigs splintering like fragile shells underfoot, sending splinters flying.
Though the noise was alarming, it evoked the lightness and grace of an ape.
This was a grove of red magnolias; even in the dead of winter, the red magnolias had quietly bloomed. As the shadowy figure moved like a ghost, the trees shook violently, showering countless pink petals down.
If it were daytime, this scene would be undeniably breathtaking.
Unfortunately, it was late at night, and the place was enveloped in darkness, utterly deserted.
Nightlife had become a memory for everyone.
Once night fell, the streets became empty, save for the main roads sporadically lit by gas lamps; the rest remained shrouded in darkness.
