I thought my room back in Dazia was big enough for me. Compared to the place lent to us for our temporary stay, my room is nothing. This place is spacious, my bedroom and bathroom combined.
The walls are concrete with a dull, grey color. And to cover the plain-featured walls, there are paintings from Dazian artists hanged, "this one is from Pearl Silvernewt, an extraordinary painter that lives by the river," Rhys shares, intrigued by the pieces of art.
I continue to examine the room. There are pillars on each side of the clam-shaped bed. The covers are unexpectedly fabric that looks soft and comfortable to lay on, and so I tried doing so, "heavens, this is comfortable," I exclaim in surprise.
"Let me try!" my eyes widen, seeing a large man swimming at full speed toward me. He rudely pushes me off the bed, sending me floating away until my back touches the wall.
