FUTILE CRITICISM

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As it was the beginning of the day, the sun's first light had hit the earth. Fresh scent of the after rain was healing to breathe in. The ground was a little muddy and the humans were sleeping in their houses. It was the time for them to wake up, some of them had already started making their meals in their houses to go to work just after that. It was a new day for them and a new beginning of each day. As it was known in Ivrea, a new day should be celebrated since happiness comes from a person's heart, they always had smiles after waking up following the routine that one of the previous kings of their kingdom had made. It had become a habit, and sorrow after waking up was deemed unfortunate and useless.

The crack of dawn was attractive to look at for two creatures. They sat over a roof staring at it. They hadn't realized how nowadays, they're always here to stare at the dawn since they liked it. It had become a routine of once a week for them.

The assassin had its pet beside him as he unlatches his mouth having his eyes on the dawn in front of him as he swings his legs upside down while sitting on the roof, "Next time, if you touch a bottle of alcohol, I shall not only make sure to visit your grave but also insert needles there so you do not get peace even after dy—" The man tries to say but the parrot beside him immediately speaks up putting the blame on someone else.

"It was V's fault!" He looks up at his master who painfully smiles turning to his pet, "I am just—" The parrot takes his wing trying to count the feathers in it and showing it to his master, "Ten! It is not my faul—" This guy had suddenly become a child after arguing each time about how he was a man.

ASSASSIN'S THRONE | JUNGKOOKWhere stories live. Discover now