Sometimes Grace would especially miss that early little attic room with its pretty blue pointed roof, which, though it confined her freedom, felt warm and cozy.
Back then, she often felt bored too, but at least she could hear her mother's nagging every day, and occasionally, an interesting person or two would pass by the house.
It's just like...
The brush that stays in one place for too long smudges large swathes of oil paint on the white canvas, and Grace sighed softly, randomly tearing away the canvas before her.
At that moment, "Boom!"
A house she had been keeping an eye on in the distance suddenly burst with an extremely intense spiritual power surge, with a rich golden-white light flowing out like water waves from every window of the house.
Grace abruptly stood up, quickly running to the edge of the rooftop, gripping the railing as she tried hard to lean closer to look.
