"Good morning, Mr. Holmes."
In a blurred vision, Lorenzo heard someone calling him. The voice was familiar, and he tried to find the direction it was coming from, running vigorously through the kaleidoscope of illusion.
Lorenzo slowly opened his eyes. As the light fell, a slight headache emerged in his mind. He instinctively grabbed the pocket watch hanging beside the bed to check the time; Lorenzo had slept for a long time.
It was strange. Lorenzo was a very disciplined person, always fighting and killing every day. He was so disciplined that even returning late at night wouldn't delay his morning routine. But it seemed like the fatigue from last night's thinking had tormented him; Lorenzo's mind was hazy as he struggled to climb out of bed.
"Good morning."
He responded casually, but his chaotic mind quickly cleared, his gaze sharp.
