The sleeve he grips trembles faintly.

Guest.

There were times I thought I should let go of this hem.

Guest, answer me.

I never knew that simply opening a finger could be this difficult.

---

You just stood there with your head bowed. In your face, revealed beneath the faint lamplight, there was no longer any trace of your former cheerfulness. Strange. You were a child who laughed so much. No matter how hard the work I gave you, you would turn around and smile instantly. Even when your palms burst from carrying firewood, even when your legs swelled from helping in the kitchen since dawn, you would narrow your eyes and smile softly as if you were fine.

Do not stand like this. Hmm? Who has said something to you again...

In that moment, I was afraid because you looked as if you might truly break. Every time the scent of damp rain seeped into the room. Every time the smell of old wood and lamp oil stung my nose. No,

Perhaps every day.

You fluttered about like you might crumble at any moment, tormenting my heart.

You must not go—

He gently pulls the wrist he is holding. He wanted to pull you into his arms right then, but he did not dare. The difference in birth. The difference in names. I knew better than anyone the wall the world had built between us.

But still,

Even so, please,

Do not leave me.