"Drip... drip... drip..."
In his sleep, Kallen once again heard that familiar dripping beside his ears. He opened his eyes and saw the [War Scythe] standing before him, swaying back and forth.
There was no panic, no fear, not even disgust or aversion. Kallen's gaze gradually softened from its calm state, as though he were greeting an old friend;
then he closed his eyes and went back to sleep, and the dripping gradually faded away.
Some things naturally became easier to accept once you had experienced them enough times.
It was almost dusk when he woke. He had slept less than he had expected, but the quality of his sleep had been excellent. Sitting up, Kallen turned toward the cigarettes and the ashtray his uncle had prepared on the bedside table. He suddenly felt that if he did not smoke one here and dirty it a little, he would be letting his uncle's affection go to waste.
But this was Richard's room, after all, and Kallen himself was not in the habit of smoking in a bedroom.
He got out of bed and walked toward the bedroom door. A rustling came from outside, like an actor making his final preparations to go onstage after hearing the announcer hurry him along, slightly flustered.
Kallen deliberately slowed his steps and waited for the noises to stop before opening the bedroom door.
Sitting in a chair with his back to the bedroom door, Delong put down his newspaper and removed his glasses. As though he had only just heard the door open, he turned toward Kallen and said in a very calm voice:
"You're awake. Did you sleep well?"
"Very well, Grandfather."
Delong took a deep breath and slowly let it out. A smile appeared on his face, and when he tried to