Hani looked at Aela, her face still puffy from sleep or tears.
A soft pout sat on her lips as she spoke.
"I think you're turning into another Keifer," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"You've started teasing me so much lately—it's exactly like the way he does it."
Shikuza leaned back, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked at the tired hani.
"I think the sleep is finally catching up to Hani too, isn't it?"
Hani rubbed her eyes, a small, weary smile tugging at her lips.
"Yes... perhaps. I really did exhaust myself today," she admitted, her voice trailing off into a quiet sigh.
Shikuza looked around the circle, his expression softening as he watched the firelight dance in their eyes.
"We talked so much today, didn't we? Tell me... did you all enjoy it?"
Aela was the first to answer.
A look of pure nostalgia crossed her face, and her smile was more genuine than it had been in hours.
"Yes," she whispered. "For a moment, it felt as if we had all traveled back in time—back to our childhood."
"You're right, Aela," Shikuza said, his voice dropping to a mischievous low. "And the perfect example of our past is right here in front of us."
As if on cue, every head turned toward keifer.
There lay Keifer, fast asleep and snoring loudly enough to shake the floorboards.
The sight was too much for Hani and Shikuza.
Their exhaustion was forgotten for a moment as they broke into fresh fits of giggles.
"Well," Shikuza managed to say between laughs, "some things truly never change."
"I think it's time we all headed home," Sumin said, breaking the comfortable silence as he stood up and brushed the dust from his clothes.
Aela glanced at the sky, where the silver moonlight was stretching long across the floor.
"You're right. Look how deep the night has grown," she said, a trace of worry flickering in her eyes.
"My mother will be furious if I'm late again. I should go now."
She began to gather her things, but Sumin stepped forward, offering a steady hand.
"Wait, Aela. Let me walk you home. The streets are too quiet at this hour for you to go alone."
Aela paused, her expression softening into a look of genuine relief.
"Oh, thank you so much, Sumin. I really appreciate it."
With a final wave to the others, the two of them stepped out into the cool night air, their footsteps fading into the distance.
The rooftop grew quieter then.
Haru rose slowly from his seat, his movements fluid and silent like a shadow.
He walked over to Keifer's chair, leaning in to look closely at the boy's face. He watched the steady rise and fall of Keifer's chest, his eyes searching for something in that peaceful expression.
"Haru..."
Hani's voice came from behind him, soft and knowing. He didn't turn, but he felt her presence nearby.
"This boy won't be waking up anytime soon," she said with a faint, tired laugh. "He's fallen into a sleep far too deep for us to disturb."
Haru straightened his back, shifting his weight as he hoisted the sleeping Keifer onto his shoulders.
He adjusted his grip, making sure the boy was secure, before looking over at Hani and giving her a firm, silent thumbs up.
Shikuza stepped forward, watching the effortless way Haru carried the heavy burden.
"Are you going to take him all the way back to his room like that?" he asked, a hint of admiration in his voice.
Haru simply nodded.
Before turning to leave, he paused and gave Shikuza a shallow, respectful bow—a silent gesture of gratitude for the evening they had shared.
"I wanted to thank you as well," Shikuza added, his voice warm.
"I know how busy you've been, yet you still made the time to come tonight."
Haru shook his head slightly, as if to say it was no trouble at all. He raised a hand, offering a quiet wave of goodbye, and began to carry Keifer out toward the hall.
Hani lingered for a moment at the door, her eyes bright with sincerity.
"Goodbye, Shikuza. Take care of yourself on the way back," she called out softly.
"And truly... Thank you so much for today. It meant everything."
Shikuza placed a hand behind his head, letting out a long, heavy breath that seemed to carry the weight of the years.
"Today truly felt like a dream of the past," he whispered to the empty room.
A nostalgic smile played on his lips as he turned to head toward his own chambers.
But as he took his first step, something caught the light on the floor. A small, crumpled piece of parchment lay there, looking out of place against the dark wood.
"What is this?" Shikuza muttered.
He knelt down, his fingers brushing the cold floor as he retrieved the paper.
It was small, folded tightly. "It must be Haru's," he thought.
"It probably slipped from his pocket when he picked up Keifer."
Slowly, Shikuza unfolded the parchment. The ink was dark, the handwriting steady yet sharp.
His eyes scanned the single line written inside:
"That which was seen, and that which remained hidden, are now equal for all."
Shikuza froze, his breath hitching in his throat. He read the words again, but the meaning seemed to slip through his fingers like smoke.
"What...?"
A cold shiver of confusion traced down his spine.
Was this a question Haru had intended to ask someone? Or were these his own thoughts, carved into paper like a warning?
Shikuza looked toward the dark stairs of the castle where Haru had disappeared, the simple evening suddenly feeling much more shadowed than before.
Shikuza stood frozen for a long moment, the strange words echoing in the silence of his mind. He stared at the parchment, his brow furrowed in thought, before finally shaking his head to clear the unease.
"I'll just ask Haru about it in the morning," he murmured to himself, his voice sounding small in the large room. "I need to check on the progress of his book anyway. I wonder how much he has managed to write..."
With a decisive nod, he tucked the mysterious note deep into his pocket and turned away. His footsteps clicked softly against the floor as he began the long walk toward his own chambers.
As he left, the warmth seemed to vanish from the air. The rooftop, which only moments ago had been filled with the golden glow of lanterns, the sound of laughter, and the vibrant energy of friends, was suddenly reclaimed by the night.
The shadows stretched out, swallowing the empty chairs and the traces of their gathering. One by one, the embers in the fire pit faded to grey ash, leaving the space in a deep, heavy silence—as if the joy of the evening had never existed at all.