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As usual, Michele was busy dealing with the affairs of the Proatine Kingdom. A mountain of documents stood before him, and just as he was immersed in his writing, a crisp noise echoed all of a sudden.
Snap!
The quill pen in Michele's hand had inexplicably snapped in half all of a sudden.
“…”
Michele froze and remained motionless. A chill traveled down his spine. He felt a pang of sharp pain in his chest, and he felt as though someone had thrust their dagger right in the middle of his chest.
“No way…” he muttered nervously and tried to downplay the ominous sign. “I probably used it too much.”
He convinced himself that the quill pen had snapped in half after getting overworked and that there was no other meaning behind it. He then took out another quill pen and resumed working, but…
Snap!
The new quill pen snapped in half as well.
“…!” His face turned ghastly pale
Badump! Badump! Badump!
His heart started to grow rampant—beating wildly against his chest.
The quill pen snapping in half was most likely a coincidence, but it had just happened...
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