It had started raining in the small hours, and by morning, the rain showed no sign of stopping.
Holding an umbrella, Kallen walked to No. 128, pushed open the courtyard gate, and reached the entryway just as the front door opened from inside.
Miss Molly stood inside.
"Young master."
Kallen shook the bag in his hand and asked,
"Has Alfred arrived?"
"Not yet, but he should be here soon."
"Mm."
Kallen entered the house. The first floor was empty.
"Young master, let's go upstairs."
Kallen went up to the second floor. Quite a few pieces of furniture had been added to the master bedroom, which had been cleaned thoroughly.
Kallen put the bag on a cabinet, walked over to the chair beside the floor-to-ceiling window, and sat down.
"Young master, your coffee."
Miss Molly placed a cup of coffee before Kallen and said apologetically,
"There's no refrigerator in the house, so there's no ice water."
"That's all right."
Kallen lifted the coffee and touched it to his lips.
In his previous life, while studying and struggling to establish his business, he had mistakenly thought he could no longer live without coffee. But when his income gradually improved and he could pursue finer things in life, such as asking coffee-loving friends and clients for recommendations and trying them himself, he had finally discovered:
What he was used to wasn't coffee, but Nescafé.
Miss Molly carefully sat down in the chair opposite Kallen.
She wore a skirt that fell below her knees and did not seem afraid of the cold. On her feet were not those classic red high heels, but a pair of cotton house slippers. She kept her legs together, looking very reserved.
Kallen turned to look at the road beyond the floor-to-ceiling window.
He recalled passing No. 128 on