The thick cotton velvet curtains were gently drawn back, and the light of dusk filtered through the gauze, illuminating the dim room. The soft glow was like the smile of an old woman at the end of her life, bringing only tranquility and desolation.
A beautiful figure with obsidian-like black and shiny skin quietly leaned by the window, cautiously and curiously looking towards the sunset sinking into the western mountains.
"Lord Matriarch said that as long as we live on the surface long enough, we can adapt to sunlight just like you Day-Walkers," the voice's owner stretched languidly, showing off her enticing figure.
Bartlett lay on the bed, his right hand pillowing his head, pondering how all this happened.
Was it because of the ripe strawberry stuffed into his mouth? Or was it the soft finger that gently brushed his lips? Or perhaps the many glasses of wine he drank after prying open a barrel?
