The secret agency

挨拶

The rain fell softly like a veil of silk, draping the hill in a suspended silence. Elena Moretti set her suitcase down on the pavement, gazing at the grand villa of her grandparents: the rusty gate, the darkened windows, the clock tower frozen at 11:22. She had come home. Or at least, what was left of it. She had lost everything in just a few months — her grandparents, her city apartment, even her job. That villa, inherited almost by chance, was her only refuge.