Hearing the sirens over the sea, numerous guests on the brink of a mental breakdown cried tears of joy.
"Finally! They've come!"
"We're saved!"
With the Vesperian police assistance, even if they can't find the real culprit, at least they can leave this godforsaken place and return to Veridia. Their lives would then be guaranteed safety!
...
In just this half hour, Cecilia Vaughn witnessed the multifaceted nature of people—many who are considered dignified elites in high society were either cursing the heavens or shedding tears loudly. Few remained truly calm, and those who did were typically the older, more experienced individuals accustomed to major events.
What surprised Cecilia the most was Sean Grant, a mere seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy, who remained quietly seated cross-legged on the deck clutching his sketch pad. His face was handsome and indifferent, seeming deaf to all the commotion around.
