Ever since that night, Parsha had been living in a daze.
Though his daily routine remained the same—sitting outside his own door, puffing on his pipe and arguing over trivial matters with Dim from the neighboring house—in his spare moments, his gaze would unconsciously drift toward Pat Manor as he wondered what was happening inside.
That noon, with Dim having gone near the furnace to work on a new batch of farm tools, Parsha had no bad friend to trade jabs with. After lunch, instead of sitting by the door, he cracked open the window indoors and stared blankly toward the manor.
"You're already so old. You know your health is poor, yet you're still opening the window in the dead of winter to catch a sliver of wind." A faint sound came from behind him. When he turned around, he saw Jin Cancan sitting atop the glass lampshade of the oil lamp.
"I'm worried about Angel." Parsha sighed and casually tipped some ash into the primrose pot on the windowsill. "By the way, the Viscount had you enter the manor a few days ago. What did he have you do? How is it inside now?"
Jin Cancan replied casually, "I didn't go, but I heard they were only asked to cook a table full of dishes to welcome Young Master Pat home. I asked the clansmen who went. They said the manor's situation is alright for now."
"Come to think of it, that makes sense. If the manor's condition were too terrible, the Viscount wouldn't have let us go back. At this rate, I reckon it won't be long before we can return to the village."
After Jin Cancan happily finished speaking, she saw Parsha looking distracted and hurriedly added, "It's not that I dislike the attic in the