'I'm surely not going to sleep this night, right? Should I accept the invitation? After all, I will now be closer to Emra's protection.'
Buji rose from his bed and went to the standing mirror. The tray of empty plates on the stool was no longer there. He stroked his hair several times backward, glancing at himself in the mirror.
"So, I am really the owner of this handsome face," Buji retorted, feeling his facial skin.
"But come to think of it, being a hunter might not be best but will be for the better. Money is involved, don't forget."
Buji's statements were directed to the image formed on the mirror; the image of his very self. Looking at the tickling hands of the clock on the wall, it saw the hourly hand resting on 9, while the minute hand was on 11.
It was 9:55 p.m. in the night, and Buji was still awake.
