Deep in the back alley far from the abandoned factory, an inconspicuous, decrepit little house suddenly had its oil lamp lit.
In the flickering light, one could see the house's simple, old furnishings, the ceiling, slightly moldy, and the peeling, faded wallpaper, as well as a slowly undulating dark rift in the corner of the room.
The terrifying Skeleton Hunting Dog lay motionless next to the crack as if it were a lifeless, deflated carcass, while at the other end of a dark chain, Sherry, dressed in a black skirt with a white hem, adjusted the oil lamp's wick before heading to the window to check the outside sky with unease.
"... 'Creation of the World' has come out," the girl exhaled softly, "Fortunately, I made it home before nightfall, otherwise, I might have died like a dog in some stinking ditch."
The Abyssal Hound lying not far away, play-acting dead on the floor, suddenly lifted its head, emitting a hoarse, splitting sound: "Speak for yourself, don't drag dogs into this."
