Fisher's rental house was situated in a particularly nice part of Saint Nali. Below the district where he lived, many workers who labored in the factories resided, with about five to six people cramming into one room, the people of one floor sharing a single communal washroom.
Yet Fisher's rental was on the second floor of the three-story detached house in front of me, which was owned by an old woman named Martha.
Fisher used the key from his wallet to unlock the door, revealing the brightly lit room inside. He took off his hat at the entrance, where a white-haired lady wearing an apron and presbyopic glasses, her back hunched, was coming toward him.
She sized up the gentleman at the door for a while before exclaiming in surprise,
"My goodness! It's Fisher, you're back from the South Continent!"
