As Carson kept wandering around, John finally asked: “Hey, what are you doing?”

For someone who should’ve noticed John from earlier, John’s voice noticeably startled Carson. Once Carson turned to John, his posture relaxed. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Who did you think I was?”

“Dunno. I was just looking for… something. Something that’s like what charms were to Virgil.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve been doing nothing for a while. And seeing Virgil being passionate with charms… I envy that feeling.”

Seeing how honest Carson was with his feelings, John couldn’t help but envy him, too. He only let out a smile, before asking: “Have you found anything?”

“Eh, not yet. You guys don’t really have old stuff in this house, do you?”

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“How old are we talking here?”

“Old antique kind of old. Hundreds of years and stuff.”

“Oh, this house hasn’t been that long. You’d have better luck at some older houses in Ironport, but definitely not here.”

“Huh… Say, how’d you end up here?”

----------------------------------------

Even after a long while of John’s family stories—to explain the history that led to this house’s existence, Carson was still attentive to his incoherent midnight ramblings. As John’s stories (that he was willing to share with Carson) began to run out, Carson suggested the next story.

“Hmm… Why not some stories about yourself? I start to feel like I know more about your family than you…”

“Eh.”

To himself, his own past was nothing impressive. None of the memorable tragedies, and none of the feats to be expected of a member of the Salore family. He was simply the older sibling of two, who would eventually take over his parents’ place.

Now that the storyteller’s rush had died down, he wasn’t sure if it was the sleepiness or how he didn’t want to talk about himself—but god, this silence was awkward. And he should’ve already been reading his books, instead of staying downstairs and fooling around with Carson.

Even then, he hadn’t felt this relieved for a long time. It’s been a while to be this unmasked around someone else other than Virgil. He knew he’d change his mind the following day, and regret this decision—but should he indulge in this ease, just a little more?