Walking into the mansion from the front door, Amon was in deep thought, processing everything that Braham had said. If indeed there were others like him—if there were others who also came into this world just like he did—then there was a factor he hadn't considered. 'Did they also read the novel? Or was it a random selection?'
Feeling a glare directed at him, he looked up from his view of the ground. Twin stairs spiraled around each other to the very top of the mansion's floors, branching out to each floor as they ascended. It was an art to admire at first glance, yet that was not what Amon had in his sight.
Just before the stairs, Rosalia stood with her arms crossed, a worried yet angered look on her countenance. Amon wondered what this was about.
"What's wrong, Rosalia?" His voice indicated more curiosity than care.
"Why?" she said after what seemed like a minute, causing Amon to raise a brow.
