The sky rumbled as a downpour swallowed everything in sight. Umbrellas moved in flocks, guiding people to their destinations; car wipers fought against the rain as traffic slowed to a crawl; others huddled under awnings, waiting for the storm to pass.
But someone out there couldn't be bothered by the weather.
In the middle of the cemetery, the rain was drowned out by the sound of a shovel striking the earth—heavy, violent, relentless. Soil flew upward with each swing, splattering across the headstone and grass. The storm's pitter-patter faded beneath the rhythm of angry screams.
In it was Lola.
"Young Madam…" Izu called quietly, standing a short distance away. His umbrella hung forgotten at his side as he watched her from under the rain.
Lola didn't care. Why would she?
