Before a row of gray-white marble tombstones near the left wall of Green Cemetery.
An old man in a heavy wool coat and a black bowler hat walked at an unhurried pace, his gaze sweeping over the tombstones to his left. His blue eyes held complicated emotions, as if sorrow were brewing within them, along with a loneliness so deep it seemed impossible to dispel.
After walking for about half a minute, his gaze suddenly stopped on one tombstone. He quickened his pace and finally came to a halt before an old, weathered grave marker.
The photograph on the tombstone had long since faded beyond recognition, but the name engraved beneath it was still clear: Roboro Nord.
The epitaph beside it consisted of a single, brief line: "Sorry, I can't go on."
The old man stood dazed before the tombstone for a long time. His already deeply wrinkled, aged face seemed to grow another ten years older in that moment. Just looking at him, one could see how close he seemed to crumbling.
At last, he let out a long sigh, took off the bowler hat on his head, held it against his chest, and bowed solemnly.
"Sorry... Perhaps I should have come to see you sooner."
"I remember you liked the Golden Leaf Flowers from Midseashire. I came in too much of a hurry today. Tomorrow—tomorrow I'll bring you a bunch."
As soon as he finished speaking, the sorrow-filled eyes suddenly narrowed, and he turned sharply to look behind him.
In the breeze that stirred the leaves, Cyrin crunched over the fallen leaves and twigs as he strolled closer.
He wore fitted black trousers, a white shirt, and a light brown long coat. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses rested on his face, giving him a refined air,
making him