Days kept passing by, one after another.
Many days later, at dusk.
The western sun slowly sank behind the mountains, casting an age-old golden glow across the land, as if gilding everything with a layer of gold.
In the courtyard where Richard lived, in the yard.
Pandora sat on a small wooden stool, holding a Papyrus Scroll in her hands and biting on a Quill, working on problems—this had become her norm of late.
Her eyes were fixed on several calculation problems on the papyrus, her brow furrowed as she mumbled vaguely, "So hard, so hard."
After mumbling for a while and not finding a way to solve the problems, Pandora simply shifted her gaze to another part of the scroll, planning to tackle the easy questions first and save the tough ones for tomorrow—who knows? Maybe after a night's sleep she would be smarter, or perhaps the answers would come to her in a dream.
