CHAPTER CCLXXIX

     (TRASHED HOPE)  

     “FASCINATING.”

     The word she utters under her breath and almost a whisper, as she sits cross leg and comfortably unto the nothingness and stares intently unto the scene as the play goes. 

     “Misha, run!”

     With the peculiar being into the world she is now dwelling, yet a common demon from her original world. The powerful fox, mythical and perfect with his nine-tailed and gleaming silver color and blue hue of flame, tells her more than the scene could ever be. 

     “A familiar, a father and a husband. Such tragedy.”

     She reads the entire first half of the story that runs unto the protagonist's background, and towards the prominent being that holds the highest pedestal with its ability to shape