When several cars parked under the Count's financial company building, Lynch was on the phone in a room across the street.
He stood by the window, which was tightly closed. The winter in Gafura was not pleasant at all. Thick clothes couldn't stop the damp cold air from invading, as if in such weather, clothes had lost their purpose.
The room had heating, but even so, the fireplace was also lit.
The temperature dropped quickly, so quickly that when people thought it should be autumn, the temperature had already entered the winter season.
Beautiful lace curtains hung on both sides. He slightly turned sideways, holding the phone receiver in one hand, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, while the other hand struck a lighter.
With a "ding—", the cigarette was lit. He took a deep drag, and thick smoke filled his lungs, expanding into every corner covered by smoke.
