A week later, a brown haired man adjusting his tie walked out of his bedroom to the dining room, where a graceful woman sat with a sixteen-year-old girl, both having their breakfast.
Their house was quite big and luxuriously decorated to match their status. He went straight to his chair, picked up his cutleries, looked at his meal, and paused as his eyes went to the empty seat beside Aurelia, his daughter.
"Where's Adonis?" His strong, authoritative voice rang.
"He hasn't stepped out of his room for over a week now," the wife of the man replied, like she was speaking about a child throwing a tantrum.
"Maybe he's scared that a good number of his classmates were killed," Aurelia stated with a light shrug.
The man rose to his feet, went upstairs, and straight to Snow's room. Just as he was about to open the door, it opened from inside, and the man's eyes widened at the sight of his son.
