Crowne was still standing in the long line. The sun had begun to set toward the west, painting the sky above Doomsty City in shades of crimson and orange. The air was turning damp, and the sounds of people complaining about the long wait grew louder.
The coachman was starting to lose his patience. "Sir, at this rate, we might only get into Doomsty City tomorrow," he said with a half-defeated tone.
The coachman, who had been calm and patient earlier, was now visibly irritated. They had been waiting in line for nearly eight hours and had moved less than a hundred meters. It was truly exhausting and nerve-racking.
Crowne just stared straight ahead. His gaze focused on something in the distance. The crowd near the entrance still looked packed, and it seemed like the line would only move again in a few more minutes. Crowne let out a long sigh.
"It seems we'll be spending the night outside," Crowne said.
