That young man left.
Catherine could finally enjoy a quiet breakfast.
She actually did not like the food in cheap cafés.
It was only that the things here allowed her to savor the flavors of the past.
She still remembered when she had been a little boy.
Her favorite thing had been a steaming bowl of potato-and-lamb stew.
It was a delicacy she could only possibly taste during the New Year each year.
Although, in that blackened bowl, all she received were a few pieces of potato and a tiny bit of lamb.
Catherine still savored that fragrance.
She still remembered her father, mother, and a group of brothers and sisters sitting in a circle.
She also remembered her father's hearty laughter.
And the tenderness of her mother stroking her head.
But Catherine could no longer remember what they looked like.
She slowly finished that serving of lamb stew.
Catherine took out a handkerchief and gently wiped the juices from her lips.
Then she sat in the sunlight.
For a moment, the sunlight was so dazzling that it swallowed her figure.
When the sunlight shifted slightly—
Catherine was no longer in the café.
Not long afterward.
The café owner, the kitchen staff, and the diners all began coughing, some violently and some mildly.
But they only coughed a few times.
So they did not take the matter to heart.
A few days later.
These people left the mortal world, some quickly and some slowly, due to one illness or another.
Above the Gray Fog.
This was a small gathering.
Other than Sifa, Klein was the only participant.
Of course, Klein attended as "The World."
As the gathering's initiator, Sifa took the initiative to greet him. "Good morning, Mr. World."
"Good morning, Mr. Chariot." Klein nodded and sat down politely, though