After that, Albedo headed back to the Hotel and had a nice night of sleep, and soon, he next morning arrived quietly, the soft light of a blood-red dawn filtering through the curtains of the hotel suite.
The city outside felt different in the early hours, calmer, as though the entire Northern Region exhaled after a night of violence and drunken celebration.
Albedo sat on the room's balcony, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching faint trails of crimson mist drift across the distant rooftops.
His tracking marks had remained stable throughout the night. None of the nine signatures had left the restricted zone. They were all just there. Some had remained in a singular point for hours, alluding to the fact they were sleeping, but others were already moving around.
Behind him, the front door to his Hotel room slid open and soft footsteps padded across the floor. Lilian's sleepy yawn cut through the quiet, "Ugh… why does morning exist?"
