The manor resumed its rhythm after Lia arrived.
Servants moved quietly, setting everything aright until no trace of their interruption remained. Everything moved smoothly. Perfectly.
Except for the boy.
A figure who belonged to no place. Like something left behind.
New clothes didn't change his bearing.
White shirt. Black vest.
They couldn't hide the rough calluses on his hands. Or the stiff posture.
The crude, blood-stained bandages remained wrapped around his head.
Still too rough for the elegance of this place.
Lia studied him silently for a few moments, before turning her attention to Yumi.
"You were right. He isn't running."
"And how often does that happen?"
"Usually, yes," Yumi said with amusement.
Lia ignored the comment, her gaze returning to the boy.
"Accompany me."
It wasn't a request.
He looked to Yumi with uncertainty, but she only shrugged.
"Do as she says. It's what she wanted."
They moved past the left staircase. Deeper east.
The hallway narrowed.
The smell of lavender faded. Old parchment took its place. Aged wood.
High windows framed the courtyard far below. The fountain sprayed upward, catching the dying afternoon sun like gold droplets.
This silence differed from the alleys.
It carried age.
Generations had lived and died here to maintain this absolute order. His unfamiliar boots clicked against the floor, the weight of the house pressing down.
Lia stopped before one window.
"Don't remember your name?" she asked. "Any piece of it?"
His fingers tightened unconsciously, shaking his head.
"Before the alley?"
"No," he answered simply.
Her fingers tapped the glass. She was quiet for several seconds.
"In that case..."
She turned to face him fully.
"Things become simpler."
"How does that simplify things?" he asked.
"Whoever is searching for you isn't searching here."
The meaning behind her words weighed heavily upon his chest. He could only stare, saying nothing.
After a moment, she escalated.
"I'm not being merciful. Mercy requires cost."
"Then what do you want?"
"Useless names are discarded all the time."
His body tensed.
"Then why choose me?"
"For precisely that reason," she said, without a single hint of hesitation.
Silence returned.
Strangely, he felt no anger. Only clarity.
He frowned. "Waganaki mentioned that too. Usefulness."
Lia smiled faintly.
"As expected."
"You talk about people rather casually," he noted.
"Necessity."
She started moving again, slower now, as if permitting him to decide whether to continue following.
He did.
They entered another sitting room, where the luxury appeared much more intimate. A small table separated two couches, a fireplace burned dimly against the rear wall, and rows of leather-bound volumes lined the shelves along both walls.
Taking a seat, she indicated the opposing couch.
"Please, take a seat. There's nothing here to shatter."
He sat cautiously on the edge of the cushions.
For a moment, she regarded him in silence.
"Why did you help me in the streets? You didn't recognize me yet, and few people stop for strangers."
"I don't know," he admitted honestly.
"Obviously, that's not very helpful."
"It's all I have."
She scrutinized him, her gaze lingering on his face.
"You never thought about protecting yourself?"
"No."
"That is unusual behavior."
"Maybe I'm abnormal."
"Indeed," Lia agreed evenly. "You certainly are."
She turned her attention to the flickering fire.
"Excellent."
He frowned.
"What exactly is excellent?"
"People who speak with certainty frighten me," Lia said, her voice dropping. "You're uncertain. That makes you easier to trust."
The door creaked softly.
Without asking permission, Yumi entered the room.
"Am I interrupting something important?" she asked knowingly.
"Yes," Lia murmured.
"No," he said at the same time.
A faint smile appeared on Yumi's face.
"I suppose we can dismiss your concern as 'no.'" She stepped further into the chamber. "Waganaki requests you."
"Of course he does," Lia sighed.
Yumi glanced toward the boy next.
"He requested you as well."
"A good sign?" he asked.
Yumi looked to the ceiling and released a heavy sigh.
"No."
"Then a bad sign?"
"Not necessarily." She folded her arms. "It means he's thinking."
"He seldom reassures when he thinks."
"Seldom."
Lia stood up.
"You'll remain here." She paused, her expression shifting as she reconsidered. "No. You'll join me."
He blinked in confusion.
"He told me that—"
"So did he. But I prefer having my discoveries nearby," she said smoothly.
Despite his lack of understanding, he got to his feet.
They walked back along the second floor corridor.
The atmosphere felt tighter now. Heavier.
Servants darted away into side doors. Hushed whispers ceased whenever Lia drew near.
At the end of the hallway, the thick oak doors to the office stood wide open. Lord Waganaki awaited them behind his cluttered desk.
His eyes traveled from Lia to the boy, then back again.
"Excellent. We've gathered both of you."
An invisible pressure settled over him once more.
A decision was about to be made.
Yet strangely enough, he felt no fear.
Because somehow—
despite possessing neither a name nor a place—
the decision already included him.