The British landscape outside the window looks like nothing more than a black-and-white film. Many people harbor fantasies about England, but this place isn't all that romantic.

December in England is cold. People usually think of Christmas when they think of December, but for a local living in London, it's not exactly a pleasant season. Especially for a resident living right in front of the Christmas market.

The current time is 9:00 AM. Having had nothing but a glass of water, I head to the bakery in front of my house out of habit. Perhaps because it's peak season, the sight of tourists swarming the place is irritating; it looks like I won't be eating anytime soon today either.

I was right in the middle of standing in line to order. Even though it's Sunday morning, a call comes in from my boss. That person really seems to have no sense of basic etiquette.

My job is that of an illustrator, responsible for book covers at a publishing house. And searching my memory, I am certain I finished all the designs for the book I was assigned this time. So why? I'm curious, but I really don't want to pick up the phone.

Contrary to my heart's desire, I answer the phone to make a living. Ah, they say they accidentally deleted both the original design and the copy. They're terrible at their job, and they have the nerve to call now?

It looks like I'll have to redo the designs for another week. I feel my hatred for my boss and my misanthropy toward the people breathing the same air in this space reaching its peak. It was around then that I saw it clearly with my own two eyes: my boss walking leisurely into this very bakery.