Compared to Lloyd's hearty dinner, what Elolo had to eat in the evening was quite spartan.
She sat in a dining hall vast enough to hold dozens, even hundreds of people. Before her was a long table that stretched for dozens of meters, surrounded by neatly arranged high-backed chairs. But aside from Miss Xiebeileida standing behind her, there was no one else here.
The setting sun streamed in through the window. Its last rays cast Elolo's long, stretched-out silhouette on the wall. The shadow's movements looked distorted; though she was supposed to be dining, it looked more like she was hiding her face and sobbing.
Miss Xiebeileida's expression remained as harsh and cold as ever, as if she weren't accompanying the young lady to dinner, but supervising a death row inmate's last meal.
The dinner menu was not lavish: a fried egg, a vegetable salad, and a bowl of corn soup. That was all.
