Arriving at Mrs. Smith's entrance, the stairway seemed like an ancient ramp leading to a divine platform, stretching layer upon layer upward. Accompanied by soft footsteps, the sound-controlled lights slowly illuminated.
When they got to Mrs. Smith's door, Emma Smith suddenly felt something strange. Her gaze followed the stairs, casting towards a corner of the staircase.
There, it was exceptionally clean. Moreover, in the air, it seemed as if a very odd fluctuation was floating. Like the lingering traces left after a goose had flown by, a residual fragrance remained.
And at this point, there was no one here.
Robert Thomson had left an hour ago. Before leaving, he reluctantly looked at the door, which remained closed, feeling a bit reluctant in his heart.
His reason for leaving was simple - work.
