The night of the Month of Passion, the sixth of the year, was still relatively cool. The gentle breeze was refreshing.
However, in the hall of John's house, the atmosphere was freezing cold because of the deep grief.
Sitting on the couch, the family members were all very silent. None of them talked, as they were lost in their memories.
Alisa wiped off her tears with the handkerchief from time to time; Iven's young face was written with sorrow, and his hands were clenching tight; Although Joel had a bottle of spirit in his right hand, right now his biggest habit other than music could not help him with relieving the pain; John, however, was justing sitting there like a statue with a glass of wine in his hand.
"…I'm getting old, and it's becoming harder for me." Joel released a sigh. "When I was in Aderon, when Evans' father passed away… I was sad, but I recovered a few days later. But now…"
