Roland stepped out of the bathroom, his feet was clean now.
The apartment felt warm in a way he was not used to, not just from the lighting but from something less visible.
Avery noticed him immediately. "There you are." she said with a small smile, gesturing toward the couch. "Sit. You must be tired."
Roland hesitated for a second, then nodded and sat down carefully, as if unsure how much space he was allowed to take.
From the other side of the room,
"No, there must be a clue." Henry said firmly.
Roland turned his head. Henry stood facing the wall.
"Yesterday you did not wash the dishes, so today you cannot pretend the schedule resets itself!" Henry continued, arms crossed and very serious.
There was, of course, no one there. Roland blinked once.
"…Is something wrong with this person?" he thought silently.
Avery sighed, clearly used to it. "Ignore him. He argues with the wall when he is annoyed."
"I am not annoyed." Henry replied instantly, still facing the wall. "I am correcting a system failure inside my neurons."
Roland looked between them, uncertain whether this was normal. Avery sat across from him, resting her hands lightly on her lap. "You will get used to it." she said gently.
Roland nodded faintly. His gaze drifted between the two of them. They were… strange but not uncomfortable.
Henry finally turned away from the wall, exhaling like he had just lost an argument he never intended to win.
"I am going out." he said, already reaching for the door. "This place is getting… boring."
Avery looked up instantly. "Boring?"
"Yes." Henry replied flatly. "There is only so much intellectual stimulation one can derive from arguing with invisible incompetence."
"You mean yourself?" Avery said without missing a beat.
Henry ignored that. "I will walk. Change my mind."
Avery's gaze shifted to Roland, then back to Henry. "Take him with you."
Henry paused mid-step. "Blah, blah, blah."
"Henry."
"I walk alone. He will turn into a corpse too staying with me somedays." he smirked awkwardly looking away.
Avery leaned forward slightly, her tone still soft. "He just arrived. He does not know the city. He does not know us and you are leaving him here while I cook?"
Henry crossed his arms. "That sounds like a perfectly safe and efficient arrangement."
"It sounds like you are avoiding interaction."
Avery replied calmly.
Henry narrowed his eyes. "I am not avoiding anything. I am preserving my peace."
Avery smiled faintly. "Fine, just take him."
Henry stared at her for a long second.
"…You are very persistent."
"I am. So what?" she said simply.
Henry sighed, long and dramatic. "Fine. But if he slows me down, I am leaving him behind."
Avery turned to Roland, her expression warm again. "Go on. It will be good."
Roland stood quietly, nodding once.
Henry grabbed a pair of worn-out sandals from near the door and tossed them toward him. The straps were frayed, the soles uneven from use.
"Wear those." Henry said. "The ground is not kind."
Roland caught them, looking down at the sandals for a moment.
"They are broken... I guess." he said softly.
"They still function very good, I bet my kidneys." Henry replied.
Roland shook his head slightly and set them aside. "It is alright. I will walk barefoot."
Henry stared at him. "You refuse footwear and choose suffering. Whole 'Sandelkind' could be proud of you."
Roland did not respond. Avery laughed lightly behind them. "Just go, both of you."
Henry opened the door. Roland followed his tail.
The city had softened into the quiet warmth of late afternoon. The sky stretched wide in shades of light orange, fading gently toward the horizon.
An aeroplane passed overhead. Its distant hum blended into the calm, leaving a thin white trail behind it.
Henry walked without speaking, hands in his pockets with steady pace.
Roland followed a step behind, silent as ever, observing more than participating.
They reached the riverside.
Water moved slowly, reflecting the sky in broken streaks of gold and amber.
On the opposite bank, children ran and laughed. Their voices spread in riot, carrying across the distance with careless joy.
Henry stepped off the path and onto the grass, lowering himself near the edge of the river.
He leaned back slightly, resting his arms behind him, gaze drifting across the water.
Roland approached a moment later and sat beside him, keeping a respectful distance.
The wind moved lightly through the grass.
Henry lay back on the grass, eyes fixed on the orange sky as the fading light brushed across his face.
After a moment, he spoke without looking at Roland.
"How does it feel… to have a friend?"
The question came out casually but it carried something quieter beneath it.
Roland paused for while. "I would not know. I never had one."
Henry let out a small breath, looking away. "Tch, another rascal like me."
He spoke up again. "Whatever happens… do not lose hope."
Roland turned slightly toward him.
"A lot of people come here." Henry continued. "They think they will become a rising star or something valuable to the organization. Purpose, meaning… something stable. Most of them end up breaking inside out or worse… becoming like me."
Roland studied him quietly. "It is okay. God is Kind." he said simply.
Henry shifted slightly from his current position, still looking upward.
"I read your profile. Why did you leave your family?"
Roland did not answer immediately.
His fingers pressed lightly into the grass, as if grounding himself. "Family matters are… difficult to explain to outsiders." he said at last. "It feels like reducing something complex into something small."
Henry did not push. "Try."
Roland exhaled slowly.
"So... I was born into a noble family." he began. "There was nothing lacking. Wealth, influence, access to everything people spend their lives chasing. Entertainment, travel, indulgence… it was all there."
His voice remained steady, but distant. "But none of it felt like mine. I did not want those things at all. I wanted… autonomy. The ability to decide without being shaped beforehand.
My mother died when I was born. So I do not remember her. I had a older sister, but only in proximity. Not in actual bond. She did not care enough to interfere. That was her kindness."
Roland continued. "My father cared. Intensely. But not about me as I was. About what I represented.
Our family had a legacy. The Piano and reputation. He believed if I failed, everything before me would fall apart."
The river flowed. "So he taught me. Relentlessly."
There was no anger in his tone. Only clarity.
"Disciplin force and that force became a cage for me disguised as a routine."
He glanced briefly at his own hands. "I learned to play perfectly. But I stopped understanding why I was playing at all. Being the only son in family made all the pressure go on my shoulder. When I failed, father casually stopped giving food and money, beated in a way..." he stopped.
Henry's eyes shifted slightly toward him. Roland's voice softened.
"When your life is designed entirely by someone else, you begin to disappear in small ways gradually. You lose preference and then resistance to have the power to stand on your own will. Finally, your identity.
At some point, I realized I could perform everything expected of me… and still not exist."
The wind brushed past them again.
"So I left." Roland said simply.
Henry raised an eyebrow slightly. "Just like that?"
Roland gave an ironic expression. " I just walked out one day."
A small pause followed.
"I did not plan it well." he added. "I realized later I had forgotten my shoes. However, I at least took rest of my things."
Henry let out a quiet breath, almost amused.
Roland looked back at the river.
"I suppose that is the difference between escape and freedom. One is impulsive. The other… requires understanding."
Henry let out a quiet sigh.
"Tomorrow is Avery's birthday," he said. "We will go to the market. Get her something."
Roland turned his head slightly. "If tomorrow is her birthday, she should be celebrating or at least… acknowledging it. She did not mention it once since I met her."
Henry gave a faint, knowing smile. "That is because she does not like it."
Roland frowned slightly. "Does not like… her own birthday?"
"She does not like the way people celebrate it." Henry corrected. "Cakes, candles, wishes… those things, not her birthday itself."
Henry took his gaze toward the river again.
"She believes those rituals came from something demonic. Something distorted over time through different rumours and exaggerations. According to her, the act of gathering, making wishes, blowing out candles... it resembles old incantation patterns."
He let out a small breath. "She once said birthdays are just forgotten rituals people repeat without understanding. She understands that's a special day but there's a limit in joy too."
Roland blinked once. "That is… unusual."
Henry shrugged. "You can just see it, she is unusual."
Roland spoke again. "Then why acknowledge it at all?"
Henry leaned back slightly. "Because disliking a ritual does not mean rejecting the person behind it." He paused. "I do not believe in birthdays either. Never have any."
Roland glanced at him.
Henry continued, voice steady. "But gifting someone something… that is not about belief. We can keep our bonds strong."
The wind passed gently over the river.
"It would not be a sin." Henry added lightly.