Everything seemed to be heading in the direction Amalia least wanted. The next day, Livia still hadn't come to the castle. The room next door remained empty, devoid of any vitality.
The bright moonlight fell on the bedside, illuminating the girl's smooth and thick golden hair.
Amalia curled up her body, with only her head sticking out. Her pink lips were slightly pursed, and her thin, cicada-wing-like eyelashes trembled gently with her breathing.
Although her eyes were closed, Amalia wasn't asleep. On the contrary, her mind had never been more alert.
The sound of the wind whistling through the window, the subtle ticking of the clock, and the thumping of her heart from her left chest, everything around her was faithfully fed back to her brain. Every little change was clearly discernible.
