Due to the Mourner being so perfectly designed, she can handle any problem on her own, so the association never places monitoring personnel at the top of her tower. Her era of birth can be traced back to long before the New Era Calendar, with most of the records lost. Even the world's top scientific researchers are like children stripped naked, helpless before the Mourner.
Yet, there was indeed a figure sitting brazenly in front of the Mourner, opening a bottle of aged red wine, evenly spreading butter on every piece of whole wheat bread, blowing on it while adding hot water to a cup of instant noodles, and breaking a sausage.
He was dressed in a luxurious suit of peacock green and silver white, his wrists adorned with expensive watches, each finger joint inlaid with rings, boots leisurely propped on the table, bright precious gems occasionally falling from his pant legs. He nonchalantly cradled the instant noodles, which to him were more substantial than the gems.
