At 10 in the morning, Cyril sat up in bed with a yawn. Just as he was about to head to the washroom, he heard movement downstairs.
To look after him, the only injured person in the house, Beth had sent over one of her servants.
Cyril lay back down with a bitter expression. He was still seriously injured and had no business being anywhere other than his bed.
Fortunately, the servant Beth had sent was not always at the house. She needed to go out to buy daily necessities, and after preparing dinner in the evening, she would return to Beth's house and come back the next day.
Bored, he yawned and propped himself halfway against the headboard. He picked up a copy of the Tussock Daily that the servant had placed on the bedside table while he slept and began casually flipping through it.
The moment he opened the newspaper, he saw the most eye-catching headline: Vice Admiral Hurricane Qilangos Shot Dead in Backlund!
The news was not long. It briefly explained what had happened, along with the time and place, as if the people laying out the paper believed every extra word was a waste of space.
Of course, it was more likely that the newspaper had been warned by the Church of the Lord of Storms not to publicize the matter too heavily. Or perhaps the paper itself belonged to some church.
His gaze moved downward as he began reading the less interesting news that took up far more space.
Knock, knock.
Near noon, someone suddenly knocked on the door.
Cyril glanced toward the door. His spiritual intuition had already told him who had come. Or rather, ever since he absorbed the power of that Painting World, space no longer restricted his vision.
"The door