“Who you are looking for?”
A fifty-year-old woman looks at me and asks in confusion.
She seems like a servant of Frances Louis.
“Hello I want to meet Mr. Frances Louis.” I smile and say politely.
“Our sir doesn't meet people casually, still less a woman.” The servant doesn't answer me and talk to herself.
A deep and lazy voice comes from upstairs.
“Let her up.”
The maid looks at me like something big happens. She takes me upstairs.
When we arrive at the door, she knocks and then goes away.
The man stands beside the window, holding a glass of wine in his left hand gracefully. He sits beside the window lazily, staring outside.