Twelve thirty at noon.
Star Sea No.1 Music Hall, independent room on the sixteenth floor.
The lacquered surface of the piano faithfully reflects the pearly curve of the neck, faintly tinged with crimson, an unnamed fluttering coursing through her veins, steeped by this midsummer.
The second hand of the metal clock ticks away, each strike like the clear sound of porcelain shattering, fragments seemingly crushed into bubbles, slowly strangled by the measure of time.
So much so that she doesn't notice the impending crisis.
It was not the staff this time, but a piercing and sharp creak, two advanced demon hunters with white hair and golden eyes standing at the door.
One of them seemed to be slightly allergic to pollen, sneezing several times.
The black backless luxury dress hindered movement a little, Dreya turned around only by tugging at the hem.
