Under a bright morning sky, with a many sounds of people living busy, taxing lifes, Yanza wandered through Atrial city. He was neither smiling, laughing, moping, nor crying—just stoic.
Actions were monotonously performed: drinking tea, purchasing sweet rolls, and reading newspapers. Abstractly normal, and not a single mistake marred this routine.
"He knows I am watching him," Eltic said, sitting opposite Yanza at the diner, covered by umbrellas poised skyward.
His expression morphed with caution as this strange scenario continued.
He had a teeny nudge to investigate and follow this devil incarnate, to understand him.
For ten hours, forty minutes, and fifty seconds, all he learned was that Yanza preferred exactly 3 tablespoons of sugar, a pinch of ground cinnamon, loose tea leaves from the Emberfall Abyss, and a meticulously measured blend of aetheric energy-infused herbs in the morning tea ritual.
