What entered his sight was a bed seen from above.
The bed was large enough to sleep three people; but "large" was not this bed's defining feature. Its greatest feature was its dazzlingly lavish decoration and its vulgar, overbearing arrangement.
Gold embroidery, silver covers, gauze curtains.
It was so exquisitely crafted that even the stitching looked luxurious.
In terms of sheer extravagance, this was absolutely the most expensive bed Angel had ever seen. But whether it looked good... at least Angel did not think so.
This kind of bed, this kind of taste—Angel felt that perhaps only some merchant who had suddenly struck it rich would appreciate it. If he had to sleep in this bed, he would surely be corroded and surrounded by its grease-dripping vulgarity.
Although the bed was not particularly attractive, its appearance was not the point. The point was, why had Spotty Dog sent him this image?
Was there anything special about this bed? At present, it did not seem so.
Perhaps this was a riddle Spotty Dog had left for him?
Patiently, Angel began studying the bed in detail, trying to find the answer to this riddle among its details and patterns.
However, just as Angel was engrossed in observing it, he suddenly heard a familiar bark.
Immediately afterward, the image suddenly jolted, and the view changed from an overhead angle into a "jumping off a building" angle.
Something seemed to have fallen from above the bed.
Accompanied by a light "landing sound," the silver cover on the bed sank into a soft little hollow. In the very center of that hollow, Angel vaguely saw a pair of familiar dog forepaws.
Spotted fur...
So this was not a still image at all, but a moving recording?
And this perspective, if he had guessed correctly, was