Dun dun dun...

　　From the living room outside came the faint sound of his younger sister Grace Carter's footsteps, exceptionally clear as they landed on the floor.

　　George Miller rubbed his temples, trying to clear his mind. He got out of bed. He was wearing gray and white pajamas, long sleeves and pants, the chest area looking a bit oversized and loose. Tugging at the fabric on his chest, George Miller showed a hint of helplessness on his face.

　　"I never noticed before, but now that I'm still wearing Mom's pajamas to sleep, it just feels kind of weird..."

　　He walked to the window and gently closed the open window.

　　Outside, below, to the right was the neighborhood street, with a few passersby in thick coats, one even wearing a bowler hat and scarf. In the empty lot behind the building to the left, there were several more cars parked than usual. All were black or white, with headlights bulging out like goldfish eyes, in an antique car style.

　　"These cars look nice, but in reality, you have to stop every few dozen miles to let them cool down..." George Miller shook his head speechlessly and sniffed; he caught a strong aroma of fried eggs and hot milk.

　　Leaving the window, he walked to the bedroom door and gently turned the handle, revealing the spacious red living room. On the right, the yellow and white curtains were being blown up repeatedly by the strong wind outside.

　　To the left, he could see straight into the kitchen at the end, where his sister Grace Carter was carefully flipping eggs in the pan with a black spatula. She had changed into a short black dress with a cinched waist, the hem trimmed with a strip of white lace, and her legs were covered in thick black tights that completely hid her skin. Her dark purple hair was draped casually down her back, and her wine-red eyes were focused intently on the eggs in the pan.

　　"You're up? Go wash up, then you can come have breakfast. I bought fresh white bread, with fried eggs and hot milk." Grace Carter glanced at George Miller and said casually.

　　"Aren't they coming back?" George Miller wiped his face with both hands, feeling greasy, then walked a few steps forward, turned left, and entered the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror and turning on the faucet.

　　Whoosh...

　　White water gushed from the tap. George Miller grabbed his red towel, wet it, wrung it out, and pressed it to his face.

　　"Didn't I tell you last time? They had work at the company and went on a business trip." Grace Carter replied offhandedly.

　　"Do you know where they went?"

　　"I think it was Delin City... From here, you have to take a long-distance train. It takes at least three days to get there. Round trip..." Grace Carter said as she turned off the stove, slid the eggs out of the pan, and brought them to the table.

　　"It'll take more than a week for them to come back, so we'll have to spend this weekend on our own again." She sat down and arranged the bread, milk, and eggs, "Alright, we can eat now."

　　George Miller quickly rinsed his mouth, put the wooden toothbrush back in the cup, turned, and left the bathroom, sitting down across from Grace Carter.

　　At the rectangular rosewood table, the two sat facing each other. On the silver metal plates in front of them was a piece of pale yellow triangular bread, each with faint letters on it.

　　George Miller picked up his knife and fork, held the bread with one hand, cut off a piece with the knife, and popped it into his mouth. It was a bit hard, a bit dry, only slightly sweet, and quite powdery.

　　Grace Carter took a sip of milk first. "It's Saturday today, do you have any plans?"

　　"Mm... I need to go to the old street in the south of the city, Bainington. There's a newly opened antique shop there I want to check out." George Miller said, eating his eggs.

　　"Bainington is really far... From our Blue Tree Street, you have to go through the city center, then walk for more than half an hour to get there. It's basically a diagonal line across the city. Why are you going to the antique shop?" Grace Carter asked in confusion. "If it's nothing important, I want to go to the fruit market, and maybe check out the pet street next door. Come with me and help carry things, okay?" She glanced at George Miller, a hint of expectation flickering in her eyes.

　　"Buy some of my favorite white pears," she quickly added.

　　"White pears?" George Miller was slightly taken aback. The old George Miller also loved white pears. "Better not, I have something to do at the antique shop."

　　"Alright then..." Grace Carter nodded, not saying more, and focused on eating.

　　"By the way, it's autumn now, remember to dress appropriately so you don't get sick," George Miller added, stuffing the rest of his food into his mouth in a few bites, then downing the last bit of milk in his cup. "I'm heading out." He stood up and went back to his room to change.

　　Grace Carter sat at the table, glanced at the departing George Miller, and immediately looked a bit dispirited, poking at the bread on her plate absentmindedly.

　　George Miller came out wearing a thick black coat and dark blue pants, a black-and-white checkered scarf around his neck. He no longer looked as thin and frail as before, now faintly exuding the air of a slender, handsome youth. Only his eyes were a bit too deep, like two pure gemstones, dark red and almost black, connecting to an infinite abyss. Completely different from before.

　　The change in his eyes made George Miller's aura much steadier and more substantial.

　　Grace Carter looked up, her eyes brightening slightly. "How long will you be gone? When will you be back?"

　　George Miller tugged at the scarf around his neck. "I'll definitely be back for lunch. Alright, I'm heading out now."

　　He went to the door, put on his black leather boots, clicked the door open, and walked straight out.