After Luo Yan left, the studio returned to its tranquility.
As the night deepened, the young girl working to support her studies also left, and she closed the door for Mr. Harvey on her way out.
Harvey sat alone by the window, holding a sketch draft, gazing at the flame rising from the silver candlestick.
The candlelight was sometimes as bright as golden Holy Light, and sometimes dull like the twilight of dusk, and finally, there was a hint of barely noticeable bluish glow hidden in the extinguished smoke.
His mind repeatedly recalled the words Luo Yan had said earlier—
"Yes, that is my most proficient magic."
"I like its color."
Flame...
What color is it really?
Harvey gently furrowed his brow, pondering intensely for a long time, but he could not come up with any reliable answer.
Perhaps—
That answer was never meant to be an answer, but a riddle.
