At four o’clock in the morning, the house was already awake.The long dining table was filled with quiet tension.Amara sat near the center, her posture calm and composed. Zogo sat on her right, his body slightly angled toward her, alert and watchful. Cristy sat close on her left, almost too close, as if ready to protect her at any moment. Across from them, Jerald, Brook, and Finn remained seated in silence, their eyes sharp, their expressions serious.The soft light above reflected on the polished surface of the table, casting a pale glow across their faces. Plates of untouched food sat neatly arranged.Mario, the butler, and Rita moved quietly around them, placing dishes and pouring drinks with careful, practiced movements. Even they could feel the heavy atmosphere, and neither dared to make unnecessary noise.No one spoke at first.The air felt thick.Zogo, seated at the center, finally broke the silence. He looked at Brook.“How is the cemetery?” he asked, his voice low but firm.
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