There is an ancient castle in a flat area. It has a majestic appearance. It is surrounded by grassland dotted with small chrysanthemums. There is a forest on the outside that leads to a quiet path outside. There was only one masked man living in this huge castle, with a strong build and half of his cold and handsome face that was not covered up.
The castle illuminated by the sun exudes luster and beauty, but it is dark inside. The windows are never opened. The masked warrior only occasionally stands at the small crack of the door he opened and looks out.
This castle has never been discovered by outsiders, and several explorers only walked to the bushes on the outskirts of the forest and died for one reason or another. Outsiders call this place the Forest of Death. Unseen by anyone, he called himself Nicholas.
Nicholas raised a little black bat. That day in the castle, it fluttered for a long time but failed to fly far and fell. He brought it back inexplicably and wrapped its injured little foot. Little Bat is an elf who accompanies him all day and night. When looking out the window, sleeping, or even in the toilet, he would like to lift his finger to let it stand and take it to another place. Everywhere he would go he would make little golden stops for it. It shines in this little candlelight.
"Oh. Cute little thing, you are the only one who can accompany me." Nicholas said softly with a smile on his lips.
