In the living room lit by a gas wall lamp, a man who looked somewhat drunk and was pulling a black cloak over himself suddenly froze. Tilting his head, he stared unblinkingly toward the window, his face full of confusion.
Several seconds passed. Once he finally confirmed that the extra person by the window was not an illusion, the drunken haze abruptly vanished from him. His whole body became like a drawn blade, instantly giving off a dangerous impression.
Narrowing his eyes at Cyril, he barked sternly,
"Who are you?!"
"How did you get in... urgh—"
Thud!
The man, who had been so imposing just moments ago, suddenly slipped. He lost his balance and fell backward, his head striking the wooden floor with a dull sound.
His previously narrowed eyes flew wide open as he stared blankly at the ceiling.
Then, an abstract and distorted Painting Scroll, supported by unseen hands, floated above his head. Within it, the twisted face clutching its head and letting out a Shriek grew larger and larger in his eyes.
"Mm..."
The fallen man let out a muffled nasal sound. Then blood gushed from his nostrils, and he finally passed out.
"Fraser, what have you been fussing around in there for so long? Aren't you changed yet?"
A somewhat hoarse, dissatisfied voice suddenly came from outside the tightly shut door.
Cyril signaled to Steve in the Painting Scroll with his eyes.
With a solemn expression, Steve bowed to him. Then the figure in the Painting Scroll abruptly faded.
At the same time, Steve's abstract, twisted figure appeared reflected in the eyes of Fraser, who lay unconscious on the floor.
Fraser's body, though he had already passed out, stiffly sat up from the floor. He turned toward the door behind him and replied in the same