The next day, as the sky began to brighten, the entire city of Calivia in Genosha became lively.
It was Saturday, and according to the usual habits of the people in Genosha, Saturdays and Sundays were when the busy city and its residents would take a brief respite. However, today was an exception.
In the largest square of Genosha, by 7 a.m., countless people had already gathered, many holding flowers, various flags, and banners. They occasionally stood on tiptoe and craned their necks, looking toward the center of the square, as if waiting for someone to appear.
The noise in the square, bustling with activity, was an irritation for some people. In a secluded corner, inside a small, filthy tent, a homeless man irritably opened his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath: "Damn it, it's not even a traditional holiday today, why is it so noisy?"
The homeless man roughly opened the zipper of the tent, stepped outside, stretched, and then dully observed the crowd around him.
