Traces of the storm that had ravaged not long ago still lingered in the gloomy newspaper office.
Unmaintained, the windows had been shattered by the violent winds carrying dried branches and pebbles, allowing rain and wind to pour indiscriminately into the factory and the second-floor office area. Desks, chairs, and machines were toppled and askew, with shredded, soaked scraps of paper everywhere and remnants of text still visible.
The only sound in this building was the hollow echo of dripping water.
Drip—drip—
Water dripped from the dim ceiling into a puddle behind the door, the ripples disturbing the gloomy sky outside and a pair of unreal, pale, bare feet.
Anna surveyed the factory area on the first floor, where a dozen similar hefty machines were scattered, those near the windows clearly damaged.
The cold aura that emanated seemed as if tentacles reaching into every dark dead corner of the newspaper office, yet it was controlled to envelop only this building.
