Fontaine has long been plunged into darkness. A thick darkness engulfing every corner and house in the capital. The moon was almost the only source of light, with the exception of street lamps, a rare lit light in the windows and a candle on the table. Monsieur Neuvillette filled out important papers, tracing a beautiful, even handwriting with a sharp pen. He stared intently, although his eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, but he could not bring himself to leave his duties. Without him, there will be chaos. His glasses slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose, but he immediately adjusts it. His blond eyebrows were slightly furrowed, there were small wrinkles around his eyes, and his eyelids seemed heavier than usual. Neuvillette doesn't want to fall into a doze in the middle of the night when he's trying to finish work. His amethyst eyes stared at each painted letter, the ideal that Neuvillette pursued.

He writes a few more pages, his soul is gradually filled with peace and tranquility. It was dry and warm on the streets of Fontaine, and Monsieur held on strongly, because not everyone in his place could carry this heavy burden on their shoulders. Maybe Neuvillette realized that one day there would be a day when he would no longer be needed as a judge, but goodness and justice would prevail in the world. But, the man was not determined whether he was a realist or a dreamer, based on his desire to finally relax. He might be different from people, but he also had basic needs that he sometimes forgot about — lunch, dinner, or contact with people, which he almost ignores because he's obsessed with work.

Time flows like a quiet stream, ears suddenly rang, as if the wind had pierced through eardrums. There was a knock on the door. Neuvillette slowly lifts his face and puts the pen in the inkwell, and he assumes an important position, folding his hands on the table. Clearing his throat softly, he says:

– Please come in.