The once green, colourful trees of Erion had turned yellow and red. Some lay on the ground, while others still hung onto the branches despite the occotional wind blowing them, causing them to tremble.
Outside of the mansion, Cynthia was seated, observing the garden which was nearly dead now. In her past life, she had put a lot of effort into keeping it alive— rather, creating a greenhouse that could preserve her once favourite flowers— roses. However, now, she had no interest in gardening, not in a land she wished to destroy for ruining her life.
She then shifted her gaze, staring at the clear brun liquid in her tea cup. It was bitter. Even the sweet cake beside the cup tasted bitter.
Is it perhaps poisoned?
Cynthia thought, only to scoff inwardly. She would have preferred it if it were poisoned. At least, poison could be cured. But no antidote could fix what she was feeling at the moment.
