On this tranquil night, moonlight shyly hid behind the clouds, and places without artificial light fell into darkness once more.
Perhaps it was darkness, and perhaps it wasn't, because nature was simply like this.
When there was no light shining, there was merely no light—it was not necessarily darkness.
In the cemetery, several people were digging with all their might. Noel stood to one side, while Mr. Truman's coffin lay buried more than two meters underground.
Digging through two meters of soil by human strength alone was no easy task.
Fortunately, the Young Men working that night were not only young but also strong. After just over an hour, they heard the dull dang of a shovel striking metal. They had reached the coffin.
The moon curiously poked its head out from the clouds and gazed down at the earth. Its brilliant light illuminated one corner of the deep pit, where two lines of gold-plated lettering could be faintly seen shimmering.
As the Federation's president, Mr. Truman had naturally been buried in the finest coffin.
No one would cut corners on the president's coffin. Aside from being somewhat dull, the two lines of gold lettering showed no signs of corrosion or fading.
Noel had them bring the coffin out and open it.
Six years had passed, and Mr. Truman inside the coffin... looked rather horrible.
To be honest, its condition looked terrible.
Most people's "impression" of the bones inside coffins usually came from two sources. The first was movies and television dramas.
To ensure that movies and television dramas were not too frightening, producers seeking a rating that allowed audiences as young as sixteen to watch them would certainly not faithfully recreate the conditions inside a coffin.
Adult films, meanwhile, deliberately made things even more horrifying to heighten the atmosphere