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... slin lay down on the grass next to him. A warm breeze washed over them from over the lake as Mikari struggled to hide his curiosity. It wouldn't be right for him to influence her decision, but he knew what he was hoping for her to choose. His gaze wandered to her slender figure as a slight frown appeared on her face.

"To be honest, I'm not sure." Noslin sighed as she stared into Mikari's eyes. "The sponsors and team's owners are really pushing for us to break up the alliance. I've heard ...

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The Morandi color palette refers to colors with low saturation and a muted, smoky feel.Chen Ningxi, who usually seems untouched by worldly concerns, finds herself unexpectedly moved upon meeting Cheng Qiaobei, who embodies the Morandi hues.At their first meeting, Cheng Qiaobei is in a subordinate position, striving to meet the demands of Chen Ningxi’s client role.Three days later, they meet again when Cheng Qiaobei is inspecting a hotel and Chen Ningxi, a VIP client, calls to make a complaint that goes directly to his office.Two weeks later, a newly built chain hotel urgently requires electric equipment installation approval, and the responsible person is Chen Ningxi.Cheng Qiaobei visits her for negotiations but gets caught in the middle of Chen Ningxi’s blind date, and weighing his options, he lets himself be used as a temporary shield to deflect the matchmaker.With a glance, they fulfill each other's needs—he gets the approval, and she avoids matchmaking.In the charade of their fake relationship, they end up truly connecting. He gets drunk, she listens earnestly; he's busy, she remains focused on her work.He does not intrude on her, and she does not disturb him. Chen Ningxi realizes she might have found someone easy to get along with and never tires of.Regarding love, Chen Ningxi has the ability to both love deeply and restrain herself. In terms of career, Cheng Qiaobei has the capability to conjure miracles and rise again from setbacks.As for them, they are a couple wandering within the hues of the Morandi palette.

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“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

……………………………………………………………

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