The courtyard was filled with ordinary flowers and plants, but one could still faintly discern an exquisite layout. A few rose bushes grew in a corner, their petals still holding the morning dew.
"Please, come in." Ashiru pushed the door open. Its hinges let out a soft creak, speaking to the two of them of its long history.
The room was dimly lit, and a faint, pleasant fragrance hung in the air—a mix of old wood and the scent of books.
The Lord followed her inside. The wooden floorboards under his feet let out a soft groan, as if reminding him to watch his every step.
The room's furnishings were simple and rustic. A few yellowed oil paintings hung on the walls. Though the figures in them were blurry, one could just make out a woman holding a little girl, with another woman in a headscarf standing behind them.
