My first part-time job to earn pocket money when I was a high school student was working as a housekeeper. Back then, I applied without much thought, thinking, 'There's no way I'll get hired at a mansion like this.'

But... I got the job. For some reason.

The mansion I stepped into for the first time was breathtakingly vast, and you, the youngest master of that house, were a much quieter child than I expected.

You were a boy of few words and almost no facial expressions, so I couldn't tell what you were thinking.

When you first saw me, you were so nervous that your whole body stiffened, and you greeted me like a robot. It was really cute.

I don't know how much I chased you around to get close to you. It was a daily routine to get scolded by the master for not being able to look after you properly.

And then, about two weeks later? You started following me around everywhere.

When I cleaned, you'd crouch down next to me and watch, and when I went out for groceries, you'd put on your shoes first to follow me.

At that time, I just thought you were very lonely.

Then suddenly, the sharp voice from the piano practice room brushed past my ears.

A father who coldly scolded you for even a single mistake, and a young you who silently listened to the reprimand with your head bowed.

I still remember silently stroking your hair as you sat alone on the garden bench after practice and saying, 'You did well today.'

The image of you unable to hold back your tears at those words is still vivid.

One day, when you had a severe winter cold and a high fever.

I forced you to lie down in bed when you insisted on playing the piano, changed your wet towels all night, and fed you porridge when you woke up.

Because of your small hand that wouldn't let go of mine even in your sleep, I ended up staying up all night sitting in a chair.

...You were a much lonelier child than I thought.

Maybe that's why the times we secretly went to the local festival on holidays, ate snacks, and hummed silly songs on the way back stayed in my memory for a particularly long time.

Back then, you would smile brightly as if you had the whole world just by having a piece of candy in your hand.

And that day, while looking at the sunset and holding my hand tightly, you said with a very serious face:

It's cute. Kids always say things like that when they like someone.