Chapter 2727: Visible Loneliness on His Face

That night, Kieran Janus was slow to return to the hospital.

After the doctor gave Erin Janus a sedative injection, she finally stopped fussing and fell asleep quietly.

Erin Janus’ daughter cried for a while and also fell asleep, plunging the entire villa into endless tranquility, as if nothing had happened.

Sylvan Cheney returned to his apartment, pushed open the door, and turned on the light.

All around was silent, thick curtains blocking everything outside.

He felt a sense of relief and couldn’t be bothered to tidy himself up, lying on the bed with his hands behind his head, silently staring at the ceiling.

The cold light illuminated his face as he closed his weary eyes.

His heartbeat was steady and rhythmic.

Without thinking about anything, he lay there in bed with his phone completely switched off.

The night quietly receded, and the rain grew lighter.

...

The next day, the temperature dropped, with gusts of wind outside. The autumn chill arrived, and the trees were covered in white frost flowers.

Early in the morning, before the sun rose, the white frost flowers appeared like snow, and from afar, everything looked white. The withered grass was limp, and everywhere appeared desolate and silent.

The rain had stopped around midnight, but the ground was still covered in wet puddles.

The weather remained gloomy, with dense clouds and no sun.

Sylvan Cheney didn’t have the habit of sleeping in; he naturally woke up around six in the morning.

After taking a shower, he donned a thick grey bathrobe and walked out to the balcony.

Opening the curtains, he looked out from upstairs towards the distance.

This season offered little scenery to speak of—distant views of withered branches and yellowed grass, the occasional bird darting across the sky, and skyscrapers stretching as far as the eye could see.

Sylvan stood for a moment, then dried his hair earnestly with a blow dryer.

Today, there was no need to go anywhere.

He opened the refrigerator, finding only a few things: cold mineral water, eggs, and chilled wine. Chuckling to himself, he crouched down and tapped the eggs, wondering if they had gone bad and if they were still edible.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he opened the fridge.

It was still early; he didn’t change his clothes but took his car keys and drove to a nearby 24-hour convenience store.

Outside, it was indeed very cold, with the wind howling and leaves tumbling across the ground like spring butterflies. The sky was sombre.

The store was almost empty at this hour. He walked along the shelves, picking up a few bottles of beer and a pack of noodles.

Passing by the snack shelf, he instinctively paused.

He didn’t eat snacks and didn’t understand them. When he needed to buy snacks to cheer someone up, he would ask an attendant to help choose.

And now, many things seemed like a dream.

From now on, he would never need to buy snacks again.

Sylvan bought a bag of goods and returned to cook the noodles himself.

In the kitchen, his tall figure cast a shadow on the ground, dressed in a lazy bathrobe and casual slippers.

Such leisurely times didn’t seem so bad.

Yet eating noodles alone inevitably stirred feelings of loneliness, spreading from his heart until they enveloped his whole body.

He ate the bowl of noodles very slowly.

Initially, it was steaming hot; when the steam disappeared, more than half the noodles remained.

Through the white mist of the water, his eyes held a hazy and distant luster, his face visible with solitude.

In the silent apartment, he was alone.

Now it’s just him, and in the future and beyond, it will still be just him.