Old Master Lenort's hand that was holding onto the photo trembled, and he quickly let go of it, letting it fall to the floor.
The photo was of none other than Erawada, Draven's mother. He could tell that each of those framed pictures was painted by Draven. He was a perfect artist after all, but what was the meaning of it?
Why was he sending the framed pictures of his mother to him?
Old Master Lenort's eyes vehemently narrowed into a thin line. He looked through the other photos and came across a white piece of pepper that looked like a letter.
He opened it, and in it was written: Happy birthday to you, father. I hope it was wonderful.
I'm sure that by now, you must have looked through those beautiful paintings of your wife. They are beautiful, are they not?
Hmm, do you remember what today is? I am not sure if your old brain would, but I don't mind helping you out.
