Transmuted : Love Of An Evening のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

● Music recommendation : Not in that way      Mahone tiredly slams the door of his bedroom, unbuttoning his coat. He spent more than three hours at some secret underground space for a certain address, got into a few fights too, when he finally found it, but the thought of being betrayed made his blood boiling. So, he did something to the guy who gave him the address and all he's feeling now is tiredness, not any regret.He suddenly notices Lake lying on his bed. "What are you doing in my room?" he asks, pulling off his tie. "Don't you have your room? Go lie down there."  Lake glances at him for a second, then looks back the book she's holding. "I'm reading. I will go back when I finish this book. And no offense, but I couldn't like the guest room. It was kinda_ horror movies type room."Mahone starts to unbutton his shirt, stepping to his wardrobe. "It's Uncle Kramer's house, so no offense is taken. What are you reading

Lynn Vandestine He pushes the door open of his new studio.   Painting has always been his hobby, but it is his first time to open a workshop like this. When he was in his adolescence, it wasn't one of his pleasant times. In order to lighten his mood, he used to climb up at the top of his favourite mountain, with papers and paints in the backpack. Often, he brushed colors gently on the canvas, while thinking if a girl would appear in front of him just like that drawing. Now, the place can catch a plenty of natural light, one of the reason why he bought this. The layout is flexible, it's enough big for his work. The paintings around the studio are mostly portraits, but he drew some landscapes, too, tried to do another genre."Hi, Tom!" he greets the guy, who is moving his brush with so much attention, benting towards the easel. Tom is a local artist and a student of art college, once Lynn helped his big brother with a mission, so he k

Lowell High School, San Francisco  Samlin Greenham "A new kid is coming in our class." Emilia says, arranging some books in her locker. I don't know why, but she looks happy about something.  "Boy or girl?" I ask and close my locker. I have to change my shirt, because I ran for almost one hour and didn't go back to home, directly came to school. God, I'm still sweating.  "A boy." She replies, smiling and narrows her eyes. "And you're single." I grimace. "And I am going to the bathroom." While passing her, I notice some CDs in her locker. "M83, huh?" I pick one, frowning. "Jesus! It's a French band, Em!" I read the labels. Midnight city, we own the sky. And.....Summer love. "They formed in France, but they sing English songs. They are in America now and they are pretty good," she explains. 

Lynn Vandestine    He pushes the door open of his new studi      Painting has always been his hobby, but it is his first time to open a workshop like this. When he was in his adolescence, it wasn't one of his pleasant times. In order to lighten his mood, he used to climb up at the top of his favourite mountain, with papers and paints in the backpack. Often, he brushed colors gently on the canvas, while thinking if a girl would appear in front of him just like that drawin    Now, the place can catch a plenty of natural light, one of the reason why he bought this. The layout is flexible, it's enough big for his work. The paintings around the studio are mostly portraits, but he drew some landscapes, too, tried to do another genr   "Hi, Tom!" he greets the guy, who is moving his brush with so much attention, benting towards the easel. Tom is a local artist and a student of art college

Samlin Greenham  I suddenly open my eyes.  I blink and slowly move my head. The pain in head is light, a little like when you are injected morphine.  Where am I? I move myself in a seated position, then look around the room, remaining dark. It is my own room. I clamber off from the bed and stand up and switch on the light. The clothes I'm wearing is dry, surprising. The windows are opened, bringing cold air and the door is opened, so I warily step outside.  Somebody brought me home. How night is it? "Mom, are you here?" I call out, wondering if someone's in our house. I stay still and try to hear any sound.  It's quiet.  I go downstairs and examine the front door, which is locked from inside. The grand clock says it's 7 p.m. a