Afternoon sunlight streamed through the window lattice, casting dappled light and shadows across the wooden floor.
The room was a mess.
Several discarded linen shirts and pairs of trousers lay carelessly tossed at the foot of the bed. One had even landed over half an apple.
On the wooden table, several earthenware plates were stacked haphazardly, still holding cheese crumbs and dried meat juices.
Logs crackled in the fireplace, filling the room with warmth.
A bare foot bobbed rhythmically in the air, its toes curling and spreading.
Her bare calf was smooth and lovely. With each idle swing, the oversized men's shirt rose and fell, its hem barely covering the tops of her thighs.
Her long silver hair lay spread out, a few strands clinging to her slightly sweaty neck.
The shirt's collar slipped to one side, exposing a pale shoulder and a delicate collarbone.
Mia lay on her stomach on the soft bed, wearing the shirt she had "borrowed" from Veylin's old clothes.
She was absorbed in a small booklet.
Its rough pages were pressed from wood pulp, and the printed letters were somewhat blurry.
This was the novel version of "Rocky," which had recently taken Newborn Town and the Miport construction site by storm.
A plate of fried potato slices sat on a small table nearby.
A slender tail slipped out from beneath her shirt, deftly curled around a potato slice, and brought it to her mouth.
She bit into it with a crunch and muttered indistinctly.
"What an idiot. With all that energy, why not just steal it?"
She scoffed at the protagonist, finding it utterly incomprehensible that he would sweat away at the docks for the sake of so-called dignity.
As far as she was concerned, why make things so complicated when food was so easy