Recently, Byeol was immersed in a new hobby of drawing Do-Jun’s face.0

She jogged her memory to search for his features—neatly cut, medium-length black hair with a slight brown tint, slightly thick eyebrows, and moderately sized eyes without double eyelids. A sharp nose, closed lips, and a slender jawline.0

Although the image was clear in her mind, Byeol’s drawings always ended up somewhat off.0

Sitting on the roots of the Tree of Wisdom, Byeol swung her feet as she sketched. Piled up beneath her were more than ten sketchbooks, all filled with drawings of Do-Jun’s face. The Tree of Wisdom sighed, looking at her tireless efforts.0

“Don’t you get tired of drawing, huh, Byeol?”0

Byeol smiled brightly and answered, “Nope. I like Mistah.”0

Unlike the others, who always wore stern and serious expressions, Do-Jun had a warm, gentle face that exuded calmness. Moreover, he had even given her the name “Byeol.”0

While the Tree of Wisdom deemed Do-Jun dangerous, Byeol thought differently. To her, he was the kindest person in the world.0

“Do you think Mistah will come today?” she asked the...0