Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The chill crept into the cellar like a fog, seeping through the walls and curling into every corner. It wrapped itself around everything — the damp stones of the walls and floor, even the very air seemed clammy and cold. A faint light from a streetlamp filtered through the small, barred window near the ceiling, casting weak illumination over the room. Beyond the bars, muffled voices could be heard, accompanied by the rhythmic clatter of horse hooves on snow-covered cobblestones and the occasional creak of passing footsteps. These sounds served as a reminder of the life that continued outside, a life that felt distant and unattainable.

On the floor lay an old, tattered mattress, reeking of dampness and age, and on that mattress lay I, struggling to cover myself with a thin, almost transparent blanket. Around me were scattered my toys, as though they could offer warmth or protection from the biting cold, though in truth, they gave neither. I trembled, my teeth chattering as I tried to fall asleep, desperate for even a brief escape from this unwelcome winter.

Nearby, a small fire crackled faintly, barely sustained, its warmth dissolving before it could reach me, lost to the frigid embrace of the stone walls. I tried to grasp at any fleeting sense of comfort, closing my eyes, but sleep eluded me.

Suddenly, a high-pitched, piercing chirp broke the silence, sharp and startling. I flinched and opened my eyes. There, perched on the corner of the mattress, sat James, my faithful goldfinch. He flapped his wings and chirped insistently, refusing to let me drift into oblivion.

— James... — I whispered with a faint smile, feeling a flicker of warmth in my chest at his presence. But almost immediately, I coughed and pulled myself back to reality, and sadness wrapped around me once more. He doesn't chirp like that without a reason — he's hungry... just like me, really.

The little bird fell silent, hopped closer, and, tilting his head, began nuzzling my neck, as if to say, "Good evening, Oliver". I raised my hand and gently touched his small, warm body, as if he were my lifeline in this cold. James continued nudging me, as though encouraging me to move.

With difficulty, I propped myself up on my elbows and sat up, rubbing my eyes. The moment I let go of the thin blanket, the cold bit into me even harder, and I quickly wrapped it back around myself. I held James against my chest, trying to warm him. James was all I had left... He was the last living creature that stayed by my side, the last living creature that cared for me, no matter how childish or foolish that thought might sound. But what else could I believe in? I was a lonely 12-year-old boy; it was comforting to think someone loved me, even if it was just a silly animal. Yet it couldn't be entirely silly, could it? After all, when he was just a fledgling, he escaped from the home of his rich but indifferent owner — a collector of birds — and chose to stay with me.

—What... what is it?— I asked quietly, turning my head toward the barred window of my cellar. Through it, I could see the homes of others, their windows aglow with the light of kerosene or even gas lamps. Some houses even had candles flickering on their Christmas trees. Just looking at it all made my stomach churn with envy.

James suddenly took flight, flapping in front of my face to block my view of the window. Clever bird, really. Soon he landed near the fire, perching on the rim of an old, battered pot nearby. I usually used that pot to cook porridge or soup, but now it stood empty — there was nothing to cook. Food was scarce; people had been too busy preparing for Christmas to pay attention to my meager services. Only chimney sweeping had brought in a little money, as the winter meant constant use of fireplaces and stoves, which quickly clogged. But I couldn't do that work for long; after nearly a year of it, my lungs had grown noticeably weaker. If they failed completely, I wouldn't be able to sing anymore — and that frightened me terribly. I might love sewing or drawing, but singing was something far more precious to me. Still, singing only brought in money on special occasions... like Christmas! I knew a few Christmas carols, and my sweet voice often charmed people into paying for my performances.

— You're hungry, aren't you? — I asked, stepping off the mattress and moving closer to the pot. I already knew the answer but asked out of courtesy. James nodded and chirped, confirming my suspicions. —Me too... — I said softly, my gaze shifting toward the small staircase leading to the hatch that served as the cellar's door.

Christmas... On the tables of even modestly wealthy families, there would be fine food — geese or turkeys, potatoes, brussels sprouts... and all sorts of desserts. Just the thought of it made my mouth water, and my stomach growled treacherously. Perhaps the rich would take pity on me and share something? Especially if they believed in God — those who truly did were often kind-hearted, as long as their faith was sincere. They'd given food to James and me before, in spring, summer, and autumn, so surely they wouldn't mind sharing on this special night?

Maybe I could sell some soft toys to the children — surely no one could refuse a child on such a holiday? Or perhaps I'll sing for people, or play with my puppets, earn some money, and everything would be fine!

— All right! Let's go find ourselves some food! — I exclaimed, throwing off the blanket and tidying my hair a little, wanting to look more presentable. Then, I grabbed my bag and packed everything I might need: a couple of homemade soft toys, puppets, and my flute. Lastly, I put on my hat to keep the falling snow from landing directly on my head and bravely headed toward the exit of the cold cellar, stepping out into an even colder place — the streets.

Outside, the frost wrapped around me like an icy shroud. The sky was dark, and tiny snowflakes drifted down endlessly, covering the ground like a soft carpet, slowly and invisibly trampled by the occasional passer-by. My thin jacket was far from suitable for such weather... The other people on the street, dressed warmly and elegantly, filled me with envy. Honestly, envy had taken over half of my feelings since my mother's death. And though God forbids envy, I don't feel ashamed of it... Let Him feel ashamed for making us suffer. Is it fair to judge people while giving them such unequal circumstances? Of course, it's easier to stay righteous and grateful to God when you have everything — all it takes is the will. But if every day is a battle for survival, anger inevitably creeps in. I'm no emotionless toy! And if I must suffer in Hell for my thoughts and anger at God... well, at least it won't be so cold there. I'd happily go to my personal hell right now — another chimney. It's warm in there, but tonight all the fireplaces will be burning too hot and full of smoke. I'd die the moment I got inside.

Sure, I'd worked before in active fireplaces, but tonight every single one in the multi-storey houses would be blazing. The heat would be unbearable. And besides, no one would hire me now. Everyone was celebrating, even the master chimney sweep I worked for. "Who needs chimney sweeps during the holidays? That'd just ruin the festive mood!"

— He-ey, Oliver! — came a sharp shout from a boy, and a massive snowball hit me square in the cheek. Some of it slipped under my clothes, stinging me with its icy touch.

Loud, ringing laughter erupted from a group of boys accompanying the culprit. Those wretched, unloved kids were always cruel to those weaker than them.

James, outraged by their behavior, darted straight at them, ready to peck them. The boys panicked at the sight of the little bird and fled in a flurry of squeals, their heels flashing as they ran. My bird circled for a bit before returning to me, visibly displeased and angry. I sighed, asking him not to get worked up over such nonsense. Sure, it was unpleasant — I was freezing enough as it was — but what could I do? I wasn't exactly well-liked around here.

— So, what's the plan? — I asked, brushing the snow off my throat and collar before shoving my hands into my jacket pockets to warm them. — Where shall we go?

James perched on my shoulder before slipping into my jacket, nestling between my worn-out waistcoat and jacket. Only his little head poked out.

— Well, as always... wherever my feet take me! — I smiled, letting out a soft cough and gently stroking the bird's head with my finger. I began walking down the snowy, nearly deserted street, glancing around, searching for a door to knock on. With every step, the snow crunched under my boots, the sound echoing off the rows of houses lining the narrow street. Warm light spilled from the windows of these houses, only emphasizing the cold and isolation of my path.

I walked with my face buried in my collar, occasionally feeling the tickle of snowflakes on my skin and in my eyes. I wiped them away instinctively. The wind would sometimes gust, biting my face and forcing me to hunch my shoulders even more. James, tucked between my jacket and waistcoat, shifted slightly but stayed hidden, seeking warmth just like I was.

I kept walking, scanning the houses for the right door to knock on. The light of the gas streetlamps, which the lamplighter wouldn't extinguish until dawn, cast long shadows that danced on the ground like ghostly reminders of the celebrations happening behind closed doors. At that moment, I felt not just the physical cold but also an icy emptiness within. How I wished my mother were alive. Then Father wouldn't have thrown me out... then I'd be warm, wrapped in my mother's arms. This morning, I would have sung in the church choir, and tonight I'd have received gifts... but I have nothing.

Finally, I chose a house. It didn't look particularly wealthy, but a gentle light shone from its windows, and I had a feeling that maybe here, someone might at least listen to me. Gathering my courage, I approached the door and raised my hand to knock. The dull sound echoed through the quiet street. I stepped back, trying to appear polite and composed, though anxiety churned inside me.

The door slowly opened, and a kind-looking woman appeared on the threshold. A wave of warmth poured out, enveloping me and making me relax for a brief moment. The woman looked tired, but her eyes held kindness, even though she let out a heavy sigh upon seeing me. I recognised her; she had often fed me before, despite her husband forbidding it.

— Sorry... — I began, trying to make my voice as soft and polite as possible. — We... we know each other, don't we? I'm quite handy, you know! Perhaps you need...

I spoke quickly, hoping she wouldn't send me away immediately, as her husband always did with harsh words. But the woman shook her head gently, clutching her woolen shawl as she sighed.

— Forgive me, Oliver... — she said, her voice filled with sadness. — But tonight isn't the time for such services. Don't spoil people's holiday with your presence.

Her words were harsh, but there was no anger in her voice, only regret. She was about to close the door when she suddenly paused. Disappearing briefly inside, she returned with a small piece of soft bread, which she held out to me.

— Take this... It's all I can give. I'm expecting guests, and there won't be enough for everyone as it is. And please, don't come back here... you know what he's like. He'll kill both you and me.

I felt the warmth of her kindness, though the bread in my hand felt light and modest. I accepted it silently, nodding in gratitude, and then watched as the door closed, shutting me out from the cozy warmth I so desperately craved.

The cold once again enveloped me as I turned toward the empty street and resumed my walk. It seemed there was no point in hoping for that lady's help anymore... She couldn't stand up to her husband. And who could? Maybe only if the husband is kind...

James emerged from under my jacket and began chirping, asking for a share of the bread — warm, soft, and fresh. Tearing off a small piece, I handed it to him. He took it with his tiny beak and tucked himself back inside, starting to nibble his portion. I took a bite of mine too... delicious, soft bread with a crispy crust — pure bliss. Too bad it wasn't much, disappearing in just two and a half bites. But even that was enough to bring joy.

A year and a half ago, I would have been surprised at such a reaction to mere bread. Back then, I ate well, my cheeks were plump, and I couldn't understand the poor... and I wish I still didn't!

I continued my path, knocking on doors, but either no one answered, or I was turned away. No matter how hard I tried to offer my services, no one wanted anything from me. Neither my singing, nor James' tricks, nor my toys — nobody cared... even families with children, who used to enjoy my stories and James' company, turned me away.

— What a mess... — I muttered, sighing in despair. — And now I've wandered into the wealthier district... no point even offering toys here; their kids probably have far better ones than mine. But I can't just eat bread alone, it won't be enough... Ugh... I'm so hungry... and tired... my hands are already frozen.

James flew out of my jacket and began flitting around me, as if trying to cheer me up, and I couldn't help but smile as I watched him with his cute, tucked little feet. James always looked after me like a real person, understanding my feelings and trying to lift my spirits whenever I felt down. He was my best friend... the most important thing was that we had each other. Nothing else really mattered! I had to smile just because we were together. I couldn't let myself mope and become a sourpuss — no way! I was a child, not some grumpy, cold-hearted man.

Come summer, spring, and autumn, things would be easier. I could go to the forest, gather berries and mushrooms, drink cool water without it freezing my throat. I just had to endure the winter. That was all! The most important thing now was not to lose hope, to keep loving life!

Stopping in my tracks, I pulled a box of matches from my pocket and took out one. With a quick motion, I struck it against the box, and a small flame flickered to life before my eyes, swaying with every breath of the wind. I needed to warm my fingers, or I might lose them, and without them, I'd be nothing. Holding the match with one hand, I brought the flame close to my other hand to warm it.

James didn't fly near, afraid of extinguishing the flame with a gust from his wings, though I could tell he wanted to warm himself too. Not that it mattered; as soon as I began warming my second hand, the wind snuffed out the flame despite my efforts to shield it.

Sighing, I tossed the burnt match aside. At that moment, James began chirping again, flying upward and perching on the roof of a house. It was a large, two-story home with a neatly finished brick facade that looked almost new. Its walls were adorned with wreaths of fir branches, ribbons, and several lanterns that cast a soft glow on the white snow. Curtains hung in the windows, and in one corner, I spotted candles — simple but warm decorations that spoke of family comfort. The house wasn't as luxurious as the mansions of wealthy gentlemen, but it appeared well-off. People who lived here seemed to have been a little luckier in life than others.

I'd been to this house before. In the autumn, on one of those cool but not cold days, I'd cleaned their chimney. I still remembered the surprise of being paid four times the usual amount for such a job. One shilling was my usual rate, but they had given me four! These people had seemed kind, and I remembered them as generous and compassionate. They had a happy family — loving parents, a bright and sociable daughter, and a shy but talented son who had handed me the money back then.

Now, standing before their home, I hoped for a miracle. Perhaps they would be kind again today? Maybe they'd spare a piece of meat or some cabbage... or, if I was really lucky, some warm milk. I loved warm milk!

I felt a mix of nervousness and hope. It wasn't my habit to wander into such neighbourhoods, nor did I dare offer my services to wealthier folks. Why would they hire a poor orphan when they could afford skilled singers, performers, or better-made toys? But tonight was Christmas, and I decided to try. Perhaps luck would finally be on my side, at least on this special day!

I stepped closer to the door and climbed the steps, peeking into the window near the entrance. It was a bedroom, empty, but the door to it was slightly ajar, giving me a glimpse of the main hall. There, a fire blazed brightly in the hearth, casting a warm, golden glow, and in the corner of the room stood a decorated Christmas tree, shimmering with lights. Its radiance filled the room with a true festive spirit.

Taking a deep breath, I felt a flutter of anticipation and rang the doorbell. The sharp, clear chime of the bell echoed through the night. James perched on my shoulder, pressing against my neck, waiting with me for an answer.

But nothing happened. I rang again, a little longer, hoping to catch their attention, but again, no one came to the door. My heart sank, and I began to lose hope. Standing there, I felt the weight of disappointment pressing down on me. The warmth of that home seemed so close, yet I couldn't reach it.

— No one cares about me... — I whispered to myself, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but the tears came anyway, leaving me feeling small and helpless.

At that moment, James pecked my cheek gently, as if offering comfort with a strange little "kiss." I let out a soft sob and wiped away my tears, looking at my tiny friend. James reminded me, once again, of one thing: I couldn't give up.

I turned, already prepared to leave, but suddenly slipped on the wet step. In the blink of an eye, I fell face-first into the snow. The cold crystals stung my skin, and my head spun from hitting some kind of edge. For a moment, I lay there, overwhelmed by a surge of frustration, disappointment, and crushing weakness. The hunger that had been bearable up until now suddenly became unbearable. Even the bread I'd eaten earlier couldn't fill me. I felt useless and empty, incapable of even ringing a doorbell properly. Tears welled up again, and I lay in the snow, trying to hold them back, but nothing had gone right this evening. I was broken. I was so tired.

James chirped, fluttering anxiously around me, but his sounds seemed distant, as if the tears weren't just blurring my eyes but also clogging my ears, muffling everything.

— Mother... — I whispered, longing to feel her soft, warm hands pulling me out of the freezing snow.

A cough burst from my throat again... the soot from chimneys had already worn me down, and now I was frozen, sick, and parched. All my optimism had melted away, leaving only cold and pain in its place. I didn't want anything anymore — I was so tired. I just wanted to feel warm, to hear my mother sing me to sleep, to hold her hand.

Suddenly, I felt a firm grip on my collar, pulling me up and away from the snow. The force made me stumble onto my feet, and then I was turned around, as though someone was trying to see my face or make sure I was alive. My vision was blurry, and I couldn't make out the features of the person who had grabbed me. All I could see was a silhouette — a woman with voluminous light hair, expressive blue eyes, and simple but well-made clothing.

She looked like my mother.

Tears streamed down my cheeks more freely now, and I reached out with my cold, skinny arms, grabbing her shoulders. My trembling voice whispered:

— M-mama... Mama-a-a...

For a fleeting moment, I thought I'd died from the fall, that I was in another world, and that it really was my mother standing before me. But as my vision cleared, I realised I was wrong. This wasn't her!

The tears stopped flowing almost immediately, replaced by a deep sense of shame. I, a 12-year-old boy, had cried like a whimpering child and even called a stranger "Mama." I jerked back, trying to escape, but the woman held onto me firmly, not letting me go.

James, seeing my distress, flew over and started pecking at the woman's fingers. But my little bird, weak and frail from hunger, couldn't make her loosen her grip.

— P-please forgive me... — I stammered in a thin, shaky voice, trembling from both fear and cold under the woman's concerned gaze. — I'll... I'll leave. I'll go, I'm sorry...

— Hush now, baby... — she said softly, her voice calm and soothing as she gently wiped the cold tears from my cheek with her thumb. — It's all right, everything's fine... Are you lost? Looking for your mother? Calm down...

I froze, stunned by the tenderness in her tone. She spoke with such patience and gentleness... and she called me "baby"?

— Ah... you're the little chimney sweep! I recognise you from the patch on your eye! — she exclaimed, standing up and helping me to my feet. She'd recognised me, and now I recognised her. Only then did I notice that the door I had rung earlier was open. — What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that in this freezing weather? Do you live with your parents? Or in a workhouse? Maybe an orphanage?

— No... n-no, I... — emboldened by the realization that this was a member of the kind family who had paid me more than usual, I replied, clutching James protectively to my chest. — I live alone... not far from here... I was just... w-walking...

I tried to convince her that I was fine, hoping to leave quietly, but the sight of me lying in the snow and my trembling voice made it clear I wasn't out for a casual stroll.

— Alone?! But you're just a baby! And, I'm sorry, walking? Your lips are blue, your cheeks red, and your fingers are frozen stiff! — she exclaimed with a mix of worry and indignation, clutching her hand to her chest. — That's it... stand up. I won't let a child freeze out here. You'll catch your death! You're ice-cold. No, God won't forgive me if I leave you out here, and I couldn't forgive myself either. What a terrible thing...

Her voice was filled with such sadness and compassion that it seemed she might cry herself. I couldn't argue with her. She was so kind, so caring... so much like my mother. Even her appearance inspired trust. Her soft, slightly wavy hair, blue eyes, and numerous freckles made her seem so... ordinary. She didn't look rich, and the scar on her neck, which she didn't bother to hide, added to her charm, hinting at a life filled with struggles that had made her so understanding.

The woman gently took my hand, smiling kindly as if trying to reassure me, and helped me up the steps and into her house.

The warmth inside was something I hadn't felt in a long time. James, whom I had been holding tightly, visibly relaxed in the heat and stopped struggling to escape. I let him go, and he flew up to perch on my shoulder, eyeing his surroundings with suspicion.

Inside, the house was warm, and as soon as we entered, I could feel my frozen fingers beginning to thaw. The entryway was neat and cozy. Elegant coats and hats hung on the hooks, each item clean and tasteful, speaking of modest wealth rather than extravagance. A dark, patterned rug muffled the sound of my worn boots, and a sturdy coat rack in the corner held neatly arranged scarves and gloves. Everything here felt so far removed from the damp cellar I called home that for a moment, it was as if I had stepped into another world.

I hurriedly took off my boots, worried about dirtying or wetting anything, and we moved further into the living room. It was a magical place. In the corner stood a large Christmas tree, decorated with candles, ornaments, and colorful ribbons. Some of its branches were adorned with wrapped sweets that glittered in the warm glow of the fireplace. The tree radiated cosiness, filling the entire house with the spirit of Christmas.

Near the tree, against the wall, stood a black piano with a few sheets of music resting on top of it. I had seen this piano before when I cleaned this house's chimney. The fire in the fireplace crackled pleasantly, casting warm light on the furniture and creating long, soft shadows on the floor. The fireplace itself was simple, but thanks to the green decorations and small candles it was very transformed, taking on a nice appearance. I could feel the heat of the fire seeping into my body, warming me from the inside.

In the middle of the room stood a large table, already set for dinner, though there was little food on it yet. Elegant plates and silver cutlery were neatly arranged: forks, knives, and polished silver gleaming under the light. On the table were plates of raw vegetables and mandarins, along with a beautiful pitcher that seemed to hold juice, and nearby stood a bottle of what looked like expensive wine. But no hot dishes were present — they were likely still being prepared in the kitchen. The smell wafting from there made my stomach growl treacherously.

My eyes lingered on all this splendour, and for a moment, I forgot where I was. But then, something else caught my attention.

Right in front of the tree, on a large sofa, sat a man. He was enormous — broad-shouldered, with massive hands and a scar on his forehead. Unlike his wife's scar, which hinted at resilience and hardship, his gave the impression of someone rough, even dangerous. He held a book, calmly reading it by the firelight. His intimidating appearance made my heart race, and my legs froze in place.

"He's... he'll see me... he'll throw me out! He's so big and scary...!" — I thought in panic, feeling fear grip my body. Men were never happy when I came asking for food or offering my services, like the husband of the woman who had given me bread earlier. At that moment, I wanted to run, but his sheer size and the stern expression on his face felt like an impenetrable wall. I stood there, frozen, unable to take another step.

The woman, noticing my tension, gently squeezed my hand and leaned down to me.

— Hey... don't be afraid of him... — she said in a hushed voice, as if reading my thoughts. — That's my husband. He's a kind man, just big and a little rough-looking. Everything's fine, little one, don't be scared...

But my legs wouldn't obey. The man heard his wife's whisper, and his gaze lifted from the book. He slowly turned his eyes toward me.

His eyes were light, amber-like, just like mine. But his gaze was serious, stern, and it made me freeze even more. I dared not breathe, lowering my head to avoid his eyes. James, still perched on my shoulder, spread one of his wings to shield my face and glared at the man with distrust and defiance.

I hadn't interacted with this man the last time I was here cleaning the chimney. I'd only seen him with his wife and children, and back then, he paid me no attention. But now, looking smaller and more pitiful, I feared him more than ever.

The man stared at me for a moment, sighed, and then addressed his wife:

— And who's this, then? What's the matter now? Is he lost? — he asked, his voice loud and gruff, making me tense even more.

— No, no, he's just frozen to the bone. I can't leave him outside, Al... — the woman replied, placing a hand on my shoulder and pulling me gently to her side. — He doesn't have a home, and he's hungry. God wouldn't forgive me if I left him out there! No child should spend Christmas like this — it's awful!

She sighed dramatically, wiping away imaginary tears, as if trying to stir her husband's compassion. Al sighed heavily, turned his gaze toward the fireplace, and grumbled:

— Well, it's easier for you to open a shelter, there are enough homeless kids....

— Oh, Al! One day I will open a wonderful shelter, one that doesn't rely on child labour — mark my words! But for now, please, my love, let him stay with us! — she exclaimed, covering her face with her hands as if pretending to cry.

Her display made me panic. Such a kind woman shouldn't cry!

— Hey, hey, my sweet Ann, no need to make a scene! I didn't even get a chance to argue, and you're already crying! — Al exclaimed, standing up from the sofa and walking over to Ann. He embraced her tightly, and she immediately stopped her act, returning his hug with a satisfied smile.

Had she brought other poor souls into their home before? Al didn't seem particularly surprised. What an odd hobby for wealthy people... though I wasn't complaining — it was warm here.

— What's all the drama about now, Mum? — a young girl's voice called from the kitchen. She looked about 18, with pink hair and slightly darker skin than her parents. She soon saw me — cold, skinny, and scared — and smirked. — Ohhh... she's roped you in again, hasn't she?

— Don't speak that way about your mother, Ruby...! — Al said, letting go of Ann and giving her a gentle kiss on the lips. The sight made me grimace in disgust. Sure, I had sympathy for the person who had once helped me out of a chimney, even though he was from a wealthy family and had stained his fine clothes with soot that day... But kissing? That was just gross, honestly! — And you, young man, wipe that grimace off your face! You're not in your own home!

— I don't have a home, so I'm always not at home... — I muttered in a low voice, turning away gloomily.

An awkward silence fell over the room at my words. Then Al chuckled and roughly tousled my hair, apparently amused by my self-deprecating remark. His hands were so strong and heavy that when he let go, I felt dizzy. Even Ruby smirked at my dazed reaction.

— Now, now, leave the boy alone! — Ann exclaimed, swatting her husband's hand indignantly to shoo him away from me. She seemed like the true head of the family, only asking her husband's permission for things out of a sense of "propriety." — His poor little head's spinning, the poor thing! So frail! Probably from hunger — that's no way for a child to be! Children need proper meals to grow! Don't worry, the turkey will be ready soon, and you'll have a nice, hearty meal!

"Wait... a meal?" — I thought, staring at her in disbelief. — "Are they really going to feed me?! They'll share their food?! I thought they'd just let me warm up and that'd be it... Though, to be fair, I didn't have time to think much about it; Ann brought me in so quickly..."

— Don't just stand there like a statue! Go sit by the fire, warm yourself up...! — the man of the house said, giving me a light nudge toward the fireplace. Once I sat down on the floor by the hearth, he returned to his armchair, and Ann disappeared somewhere upstairs, her footsteps clicking against the staircase.

Al and Ruby still watched me with a mix of suspicion and curiosity, so I turned my back to them, facing the fireplace to avoid their stares. The hearth was beautiful, bright, with an intricate carving of a rose in the center and a small engraving underneath it that read "Rose". The fire reminded me of the match I had lit outside earlier... it was as if that tiny flame had grown large and warm before my eyes.

James, who had remained perched defensively on my shoulder, finally relaxed a little. He hopped down and settled by the fire, preening his feathers while soaking up the warmth. Suddenly, Ruby approached from behind and placed a small dish of water and a handful of seeds — perhaps oats mixed with other seeds resembling apple pips — on the floor near James.

James gave Ruby a distrustful look and flapped his wings, shooing her away from us. Only when she backed off did he start pecking at the seeds and sipping water.

I couldn't help but watch him, finally at ease and carefree, and I didn't even notice Ann returning downstairs until she touched my shoulder. I flinched reflexively away from her touch. She looked startled by my reaction but maintained her warm smile as she held out a set of elegant, clean clothes in deep blue with beautiful golden ribbons.

— Here, put these on. Your clothes are cold and dirty, and you need to warm up. Here are trousers — they're nice and warm — some socks, and shoes too. No bare feet in this house... — she said, gently showing me the garments.

— Huh? That's Hio's outfit from his first big performance! You can't just give it to some scruffy kid! — Ruby exclaimed, recognising the clothing and evidently upset that her mother had handed me what seemed to be a treasured family item.

— Well, there's nothing else. You know I gave away all the outgrown clothes to the church and orphanages... It's fine. If it gets dirty, we'll wash it. Hio won't mind — I raised him to be kind! — Ann replied with a shrug.

— Besides, he's got other things to worry about now... — Al interjected. — Go on, lad, get changed. You should look decent for dinner...!

I took the clothes, feeling their softness and warmth, and then Ann gently took my hand and led me to the bedroom I had seen earlier through the window. Once inside, she waved playfully at me before closing the door, leaving me alone to change.

James, caught off guard, remained by the fire, so for the first time in a while, I was truly alone. Glancing around the room, I realized I had no better choice than to comply. Outside, the snow was no longer falling in tiny flakes but in large, heavy clusters. The thought of being kicked out into the freezing streets for refusing such kindness sent a shiver down my spine. Plus, they were going to feed me — anything was worth a bite of juicy meat! Even if it wasn't juicy, dry meat would be fine... oh, and if it had a nice crust? That would be amazing!

I began peeling off my old clothes, leaving only my undergarments. My tattered garments were so filthy that I didn't feel bad about tossing them onto the floor, though I hesitated to soil the clean floor with them. The inside of my jacket wasn't as dirty, so I used it to wipe some of the grime off my skin. I didn't want to stain the beautiful clothes these kind people had given me.

Once dressed, I found that the outfit fit me perfectly. It wasn't surprising. Hio, Ann and Al's son, was renowned for his musical talent even back when I still lived a wealthy life. I had often heard of him, even though I lived in another city at the time. He had performed in small theaters from the age of seven and made his big debut at ten. Now that I was twelve, it made sense that his old outfit fit me so well.

The blue cape, shirt, trousers, and shoes all suited me perfectly. The small heels on the shoes felt a bit awkward — I'd never worn anything with heels before — but they were manageable. On the other hand, the outfit reminded me of happier times. It resembled the attire I had worn for choir performances, though this one was a little more lavish and detailed.

After finishing what could barely be called "primping", I finally stepped out of the room, holding my dirty bag in my hand rather than wearing it. The sound of my steps in the new shoes made me anxious, but I returned to the main hall nonetheless.

— You look good... — Al commented from his armchair, glancing up from his book. — Looks just like Hio in that... he's blonde too, though his eyes are red!

— Y-yeah, I know... — I replied, turning my head away from him, still wary of the large man.

James flew up from the table, clutching something in his beak. Was he stealing now?! That wouldn't sit well with the hosts! But James spotted me, swooped down, perched on my shoulder, and began nudging my lips with the nut he held. I didn't open my mouth, afraid to eat something without permission, but James persisted, poking and prodding. Reluctantly, I decided to accept the pilfered treat, opening my mouth so James could drop the nut onto my tongue before flying back to the fireplace to resume pecking at his seeds and sipping water.

I was too nervous to chew the nut, worried the sound would give away the theft, so I swallowed it whole. It wasn't satisfying, but a faint taste lingered on my tongue. James could be so caring — sometimes to an absurd degree.

Suddenly, the sound of the front door opening filled the air, followed by it slamming shut as if someone had hurried inside to escape the cold. Ann emerged from the kitchen, carrying a large pot with something steaming inside. Judging by the thick gloves she used to hold it, it was scalding hot. She quickly placed the pot on the table and rushed toward the entryway, but she didn't make it in time.

The newcomer — Hio, another member of the family — entered the living room carrying a small work case. His sharp nose and gaunt cheeks were flushed red, his lips pressed tightly together as though he were trying to hide his chattering teeth. Despite the cold, he had an air of grace — a pale, red-eyed blond who was strikingly handsome.

Ann immediately embraced him, and he cautiously returned the gesture before his gaze fell on me, standing near the fireplace. His tired, indifferent look made my stomach churn, and I clenched the edges of my borrowed clothes in my fists, nervously anticipating his reaction. Surely, he wouldn't be pleased to see a dirty orphan wearing his outfit.

— How did it go, my sweet? — Ann asked, drawing Hio's attention back to her. — I'm so sorry we couldn't come! The children held me up, and arriving late to the theater felt disrespectful to everyone else, so we decided it was best not to go. I hope your teacher supported you in our stead?

— Oh, it's fine, there's no need to worry about that. I was late myself, so we're even. Yes, my teacher was there, so everything went well... — Hio replied with a gentle smile, bowing his head slightly to his mother. Then, his gaze shifted back to me. — And I see, Mother, that you've brought someone into the house again?

— Ha! Ann's always too kind! — Al boomed, rising from his chair and giving Hio a hearty slap on the back. — She's gone and given her most precious clothes to a useless stray...

James, offended by the remark about my "uselessness", began chirping loudly and flapping his wings. He darted toward Al's leg and pecked at his boot, making me shrink back in fear, chills running down my spine.

"James, for heaven's sake, you're making it worse!" — I thought, my face growing pale with dread.

— And with such a menace for a pet! — Ruby laughed, setting five glasses on the table before approaching Hio. James flew back to me, unwilling to be surrounded by the family. — How's Maika? Did she perform well?

— Yes, she was wonderful, as always... — Hio muttered shyly, smiling and turning his head away from his sister. — But perhaps... you'll introduce me to your guest?

— Oh... — Ann hesitated, placing her hand on her chest. — This is the chimney sweep I asked to be paid extra last time. Don't you remember?

— Yes, I noticed. His eye isn't well... but I meant his name... — Hio replied, stepping out of the family circle and placing his work case near the piano. It seemed he'd had a Christmas performance, and the case likely contained sheet music — he was a pianist, after all.

— Oh, his name? Well... perhaps he'll tell us himself? — Ann smiled awkwardly, avoiding her son's gaze.

— Wait... you let him into the house without asking his name? — Ruby said, her already large eyes widening.

— Well... I didn't think about it... — Ann pouted, feigning offense. — Why are you surprised?! You should be used to the fact that I can surprise! Hio, you wouldn't know it, women surprise sometimes very well!

— I know better than Hio how surprising women can be... — Ruby teased, sticking her tongue out playfully. — But you, Mother, always find new ways to amaze me!

— No tongue, sweetie... that's a man's business! — Ann laughed mischievously, tapping her husband's lips with her finger. Al blushed furiously and grimaced, as though she'd made an embarrassingly personal joke.

— I don't get it... — Hio and I said in unison, both bewildered by the odd conversation about women's surprises.

— Hio's no gentleman, and as for you, chimney sweep, you're too young to understand! — Al smirked, scratching his neck awkwardly.

— It's just that Maika has... peculiar tastes. Even if they had something going on, it wasn't like yours or anyone else's. Yours is still... decent, and Father's modest about such things, from what I know! — Ruby said with a sly smile, winking at Hio.

Hio stared at his sister in confusion before his face contorted in disgust. He exclaimed, louder than he intended:

— I... we're not married! What on earth are you talking about?! Just because you're shameless, Ruby, doesn't mean Maika is! And Mother, what have you been telling her?! She's already not interested in boys, and now you're teaching her improper things!

— She wasn't playing with dolls with that servant Dex... she told me herself! So she's not modest either... And don't criticize Mother — she's an open and wonderful woman! Women should respect themselves and feel good — that's what she teaches me!

— Enough! — Ann clapped her hands, cutting off the escalating argument. — The joke's gone too far; there's a child here! And we haven't even introduced ourselves properly!

— Yes, dear... making vulgar jokes in front of a strange child is bad, even though you started it, and dragging him into the house without asking his name is fine...! — Al chuckled, shaking his head at his wife's eccentricity.

— He was lying in the snow crying! In the snow! His lips were blue, his fingers freezing! His name wasn't the priority! — Ann exclaimed, gesturing toward me.

— To be fair... — Hio said, his calm, slightly raspy voice returning as he defended his mother. — The snowstorm was so bad that if he'd stayed out there, he would've been buried and frozen to death. Judging by the shallow depression in the snow by the window, it happened right outside our house. So it's better this way — otherwise, the morning after Christmas would've been... unpleasant. Not the best time for introductions, really. Oh, and I found his hat in the snow. I left it in the entryway.

— See? Hio understands me! — Ann cried triumphantly, rushing to hug her son tightly.

— So, what about a name? — Hio asked again, seemingly trying to ignore his mother's affection.

I hesitated, looking at him awkwardly. I was nervous around these people, unsure whether I should even tell them my name. Sensing my fear, James spread his wings and gently wrapped them around my head, shielding me protectively. Feeling the warmth of his feathers, I managed to push my fear aside. Bowing slightly to the family, I introduced myself:

— M-my name is Oliver... — I said softly, almost wishing not to be heard, but my voice carried clearly in the room, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth. — And this is James, an American goldfinch, my best friend.

— Oh, what a lovely name... your, Oliver. But James... — Al teased, smirking.

James, clearly offended by the critique of his name, flew straight at Al, perched on his head, and began pecking at his forehead.

— Ouch, ow! All right, all right! Sorry, James Mr. Goldfinch, I get it, your name is beautiful! — Al exclaimed, raising his hands in mock surrender.

James strutted around on Al's head with his sharp little claws before deciding to forgive him and flew back to me.

— What a cheeky bird...! — Ann giggled, her laugh almost childlike, as she patted her husband's reddened forehead. — Oliver, why is your James so unruly? Or are all Americans like that? I've never met one before — we don't have birds like him here. Not many people like him either...

— Well, he doesn't hit women, so I'd say he's polite enough... — Hio quipped, looking at James with a mix of understanding and respect. — Though, it seems like he might, if someone hurt his master.

James puffed up his feathers, spreading his wings aggressively, almost hissing at Hio as if warning him not to try anything.

— It's okay, quiet now... — I murmured, taking James into my hands and pressing him gently to my chest. He snuggled against me and slipped under my cape, warming himself in the soft, clean fabric. He clearly liked the outfit — it was warm, clean, and didn't smell of soot or dampness like my old clothes.

But I couldn't shake the awkwardness of wearing this outfit. Hio, its rightful owner, stood right in front of me, and it felt strange to be wearing his clothes in his presence. It wasn't as if we knew each other; he was an elegant, renowned pianist, and I was just a homeless orphan.

— You gave him my clothes? — Hio finally asked, taking note of my attire.

— Oh, yes... I didn't have any other children's clothes, so I gave him these. You should've seen what he was wearing before — I couldn't possibly let him sit at the table like that! — Ann replied, approaching me and gently ruffling my hair. My cheeks flushed red at her motherly gesture; she was so kind, and her touch reminded me of my own mother.

— But look how well it suits him! He looks adorable in it! Like a smaller version of you when you were little! Oh, I remember those days... I would scoop you up in my arms after a performance, just like I did the first time... but I can't do that anymore...

Ann rubbed her hand near her eyes as if wiping away tears from fond memories.

— Well, that's where I come in! — Al declared proudly, demonstrating his strength by grabbing Hio under his arms and lifting him clean off the ground.

Hio, who was quite tall compared to me, was still dwarfed by Al, who was at least half a head taller. Al effortlessly lifted him so that his feet dangled in the air.

— W-whoa! — Hio exclaimed, startled at being hoisted up so easily. — Dad, stop! Put me down!

— All right, all right, don't yell, young man! — Al laughed heartily, his booming voice so loud that it felt like it physically pushed me back.

Soon, Hio was back on his feet, eyeing his father warily. Ruby laughed, gave Hio a playful shove on the shoulder, and disappeared into the kitchen. Ann followed her but quickly returned, both of them smiling brightly.

— The main dish is almost ready, so let's start with some soup as usual! — Ann announced, inviting everyone to the table while setting down a fresh loaf of sliced bread. She seemed to direct her words especially toward me, as if sensing that I still doubted whether I was really welcome to eat with them.

Al, noticing my hesitation, gently placed a hand on my shoulder and guided me to the table. Ruby had already taken her seat, followed by Hio. I wanted to sit next to Ann — she made me feel safe, and there was an empty seat beside her — but what if Al wanted to sit next to her instead?

Hio, seemingly noticing my unease, gave a slight nod toward the empty chair next to Ann, silently encouraging me to sit there. Before I could respond, James flew out from under my cape, grabbed my sleeve with his beak, and tugged me toward the table. Finally, I relented and sat where Hio had indicated, letting out a small sigh of relief. James settled between me and Hio, clearly trusting Ann more than anyone else.

I placed my bag at my feet, wary of it being stolen, though it contained nothing of value. From my seat, I had a good view of the Christmas tree, and the warmth of the nearby fireplace added to the comforting atmosphere. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. These people were too kind, too attuned to my nervousness — there had to be a catch. But none of them gave any indication of ill intent. Maybe I was just imagining things...

All my worries vanished when Ann placed a bowl in front of me, opened the pot she had brought, and ladled thick, creamy soup into my bowl. It was an orange-brown color, steaming gently, and its rich aroma made my mouth water. It looked so delicious. I was so hungry and longed for something warm and home-cooked. It had been so long since I'd eaten a "proper" meal — if you could call it that — and not one I'd made myself.

I wanted to dive in and devour it all at once, but I wasn't used to eating with others, especially at such a fine table. I waited for permission from the hosts before starting.

— Would you like some croutons? — Ruby asked, offering me a small dish filled with square, toasted bread cubes. — They make it even better! You should try — just sprinkle them in and enjoy!

I glanced at the croutons nervously, unsure of how to move or act at the table. I had forgotten what it was like to eat with others, and these people still felt like strangers despite their kindness.

Ruby, noticing my hesitation, tilted the dish and poured some croutons directly into my soup. Some soaked up the soup immediately, while others remained crispy on top. Satisfied, she passed the dish to Hio, who added a small handful to his bowl.

— No need to be so nervous, Oliver... eat to your heart's content! — Al said, offering me a warm, fatherly smile. — Here's a piece of fresh bread, still warm! Ann's baking is always wonderful!

— Yes, your eyes are sparkling at the sight of that soup, ha-ha! And look at James; he's already nibbling at yours! — Ann chuckled, having just finished a quiet prayer she'd been saying since sitting down. It was odd that the others hadn't prayed aloud as she did. Hio, for instance, wore a cross that peeked out from beneath his elegant shirt. Perhaps Ann's faith was more personal, her prayer a genuine, silent conversation with God. It seemed unnecessary to pray aloud without sincerity, and I wondered if the others had simply offered thanks in their own way. — Have you ever had carrot and parsnip soup before?

I hesitated for a moment, then answered quietly:

— Yes... back when I lived with my mother. About three years ago was the last time I had it. It has such an interesting flavor, a little nutty...

— That's the parsnip! — Ruby said, stirring croutons into her soup as though trying to let them soak thoroughly. I used to enjoy doing the same. — Oh... how long has it been since you lived with your parents?

I froze, unsure how to respond. These people were still strangers, and the thought of talking about my past, about something so painful, felt overwhelming. I didn't want to cry, especially not here.

— Ruby... — Hio finally spoke, his calm voice breaking the tension. — I don't think he's comfortable with that yet. Give him some time. We don't know him well enough to ask about such things. Does he even know our names?

Hio's perceptiveness caught me off guard. It was as though he could see right into my thoughts, into my worries. His understanding gaze surprised me — and, apparently, James too. My little bird hopped toward Hio, brushed against his hand holding the spoon, and nuzzled it in gratitude.

— Oh, that's true! We haven't even introduced ourselves! — Ann exclaimed, looking at me apologetically. — I'm Ann! Though many call me Sweet Ann — my choir children gave me that nickname!

"A choir?" — I thought, intrigued. — "Does she direct a children's choir? Wow!"

How I would've loved a choir teacher like Sweet Ann! My previous choir master was always scolding, handing out cuffs to the head, and making us kneel on peas for disobedience without even consulting my mother. It was awful!

— I'm Al, but I've got a nickname too! Big Al! My son gave me that name when he realized he'd never catch up to my height, and it just stuck! — Al laughed heartily, ruffling Hio's hair affectionately.

— I'm just Ruby! — announced their daughter, though her mouth was half-full of soup and bread, making her words slightly muffled. — I'm nearly two years older than this blonde over here!

— I'm Hio, learn my name already... — Hio said with a faint smile, as though trying to make a joke out of the formality, despite knowing I already knew his name.

— Oh... nice to meet you... — I murmured, unsure how to respond, as I nervously picked up the elegant spoon from the table. Its handle bore a small engraved rose. Their introductions made me feel slightly more at ease, like a genuine guest rather than an intruder.

After the introductions, the family settled into their meal. It felt so foreign to me — how careful and composed they were. Before I ended up on the streets, I had spent some time in a workhouse, where meals were chaotic. The children there ate like pigs, shoveling food down so quickly they barely tasted it. I soon learned that if I didn't eat fast, I wouldn't eat at all — the older kids would take everything, even my scraps, just to assert dominance.

But here, no one would steal my food, right? I could return to my proper manners, eating slowly and savoring every bite... though I wasn't sure I could resist the overwhelming hunger clawing at me.

I dipped my spoon into the soup, mimicking Ruby's earlier motion of stirring the croutons in. Scooping up a mix of soup and croutons, I brought the spoon to my lips.

The rich aroma hit my nose immediately, making me feel faint with hunger. The first taste was like a revelation. The creamy texture melted on my tongue, and warmth spread through my body. The flavor was deep and hearty, with a slight sweetness and a hint of nuttiness. The parsnip provided a robust, earthy base, while the carrots added a soft, floral sweetness that unfolded like a blooming flower on my palate.

Closing my eyes, I let the world fade away, wanting only to bask in this moment, this taste. It was as though the soup carried the essence of warmth, care, and love I hadn't felt in years. My body trembled slightly, and I pressed the spoon to my lips, holding it there as if to prevent the magic from escaping.

I didn't want it to end. The soup brought back long-forgotten memories of my mother's cooking — the meals she made with so much love.

— Hey, hey, little one, don't eat so fast! You'll choke! — Sweet Ann exclaimed, placing one hand on my shoulder and the other over the hand holding my spoon. Her touch startled me, and I clamped my teeth down on the spoon, grabbing my bowl with my free hand as though afraid she might take it away. — Oh... — Ann said softly, releasing me almost immediately when she saw my fear.

Realising how rude I had been, I felt a wave of shame wash over me. I shouldn't behave like this — not here, not among such kind people. Even if I was starving, I couldn't eat like a wild animal.

— S-sorry... — I whispered, lowering my head as I let go of the spoon and placed it back in the bowl. James, sensing my distress, hopped onto the table and pressed against my hand protectively, glaring at Ann with an almost accusatory look.

— Hey, no need to apologise. Mum's right — you might choke, or worse, feel too unwell to try the main dish. — Hio said in his usual calm tone, which somehow eased my nerves. — Just eat slowly, have some bread with it — it's warm and very tasty.

— How can he eat calmly with that rumbling stomach, ha-ha...? — Big Al chuckled, stirring his soup. — His stomach is rumbling and rumbling, we will never know such hunger, thankfully! The main thing is that it's delicious! Look at Ruby, she too eats like she's never eaten before!

— Mmm? — Ruby mumbled, looking up at her father with her cheeks puffed out from a mouthful of soup.

Her messy, funny expression made me smile despite myself, and the atmosphere returned to being light and warm.

— It's just so good! — Ruby exclaimed after swallowing her soup. — And I've been saving my appetite for dinner, eating light all day so I can really enjoy myself tonight!

Everyone laughed at her enthusiasm, and Ruby pouted indignantly.

— I barely ate today either; don't make up stories! — Hio teased, smirking at his sister.

— Oh, but you had a snack, didn't you...? — Ruby replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. Then, as if delivering a punchline, she added: — Was Maika tasty? Any hairs in your snack?

Hio, already pale by nature, turned even whiter at her words before breaking into a loud coughing fit, as though trying to expel something unpleasant.

— Ruby! What are you talking about at the table?! And in front of a child! — Ann exclaimed, giving her daughter a light tap on the head. — How's he gonna eat now?

— Just like at "snack time"... — Al muttered, smirking as he sided with Ruby's apparently cruel joke.

Hio, clearly distressed, turned away from the table and stared at the fireplace and Christmas tree with a serious expression.

— Al! — Sweet Ann snapped, her tone sharp and almost scolding. — Hio's still a child, we have two children at this table! Stop it immediately, both of you — this is outrageous!

— The "child" is about to get married, just so you know! — Al added, grinning.

Hio flinched at his father's words and turned to him with a look of what could only be described as annoyance — or even anger. It seemed this was a sore subject for him. Watching their lively, sometimes very personal conversations made it feel oddly nice to enjoy warm soup amidst such an interesting family.

— Oh no-o-o! — Ann lamented dramatically, pressing her hands to her cheeks. — It's happening so fast... Why on earth did we give our blessing at seventeen? That's not how respectable families do things! I understand why Maika, at eighteen, is ready for marriage, but you, Hio... such recklessness, oh... you could have waited until at least twenty-five!

Hio fidgeted, softening his gaze. He turned back to the table, rested his hands on it, and began to fidget with the tablecloth. His pale face was now tinged with a deep, visible blush.

— I... I can provide for us. I earn enough... — Hio said, his voice a mix of uncertainty and determination, as though trying to justify such an early marriage.

It was unusual for young men from wealthy families to marry so early. At seventeen, many were still considered too young to support a family or take on such responsibilities. But Hio wasn't entirely wrong — his fame as a pianist and the high demand for his performances likely meant he could indeed support both a wife and future children.

— And... I couldn't refuse. I love her, my muse... — Hio added softly, almost to himself.

The room fell silent. Everyone stared at him with wide eyes, including me. At first, I didn't understand what was so shocking, but as I noticed the bead of sweat trickling down Hio's face and his glassy eyes, it became clear he'd unintentionally said something that stirred the room.

— I... I didn't mean it like that... — Hio stammered, realising his words had caused a stir.

But before he could explain, Ruby and Sweet Ann interrupted him with a chorus of excited, high-pitched exclamations:

— She asked you to marry her?!

— Oh, God... — Al muttered, covering his ears from the sheer volume of their excitement.

— Oh my God, oh my God! — Ann cried, nearly in tears as she leapt from her seat to embrace Hio tightly. He sat there, wide-eyed, looking at me as if silently begging, "Take me to your cold basement; save me from this." — How is that even possible?! Oh, my little gentleman! Poor thing, you couldn't even say no — she bewitched you!

— Unbelievable! — Ruby chimed in, her eyes sparkling with admiration. — She's a lioness! And a singer! She must be a siren without a tail! Her tail must be her long hair! It's unnatural — she's not human! I swear on my pinkie, she bewitched you!

— Ladies, ladies, let's calm down! — Al laughed, clearly amused by the scene but also noticing Hio's growing discomfort. It was no wonder Hio hadn't told them the truth before — they were overwhelming. — Don't be jealous! It's a fiery love, and Maika's impatience is just part of her charm!

— If I'd known that was an option, I wouldn't have waited for you to muster the courage! — Ann exclaimed, moving to Al and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, nuzzling her face into his broad chest.

— You can't do that, but if you're quiet... — I chimed in, trying to joke and draw some attention back to myself. For some reason, I didn't want to feel invisible amidst their lively chatter.

— Then in a whisper... — Ann murmured, rising on her toes and leaning toward Al's ear. She whispered something that made him laugh bashfully before giving her a quick kiss on the lips. I averted my eyes, feeling a little awkward.

— Agreed... — Al said with a calm smile, gazing fondly at his wife.

— Wa-ha-ha! — Ann laughed loudly, placing her hands on her hips in a display of triumph. She then ran her hand along Al's neck, brushing over his Adam's apple, before sitting back down to finish her soup with a satisfied grin.

Hio exhaled deeply, relieved that the topic of his love life was, at least temporarily, set aside.

— So why did you even ask for their blessing? — I asked Hio, curious about the backstory. — Isn't that something people do before proposing?

Hio looked at me in surprise, perhaps not expecting such a direct question from someone so timid. After a moment, he decided to answer:

— I just wanted to make it seem like I was the one eager to propose... — he said with a small, self-deprecating laugh, nibbling on a piece of bread. — The truth is, she asked her parents for permission first. They're very open-minded and... "hospitable" toward anything unconventional. They adore Maika and knew how much we care for each other, so they let her fulfill her dream of proposing to me.

— So she asked for the blessing? — I clarified, fascinated.

— Yes, and I... I just played along. In any case, even if it's early and I'm not entirely ready for married life, I'm happy. We're not planning the wedding anytime soon — this was more about showing her commitment to me...

— She's a serious woman, that's for sure! — Ruby exclaimed with a hint of envy. — Oh, if only I were a man...

— We get it, dear, we get it — women are amazing. I agree! — Al said, smiling as he finished his soup. — But be careful, Hio... traditionally, children come soon after the wedding...

Hio's expression darkened as he furrowed his brows, clearly troubled by his father's words.

— Too soon... much too soon... — he muttered quietly, shaking his head. — She says children will come when I'm ready. Besides, most men have kids around twenty-five. We'll wait.

— Well, you'd have to decide on the number of kids, ha-ha! — Ruby teased with a sly grin. — How many does she want? Five or six?

— Oh, quiet... I said no more than two, and I meant it! — Hio replied firmly, lightly tapping his heel against the floor as if trying to assert a rare authority. After a brief silence, he turned to his parents. — You didn't give me a brother, so let's close the subject, you've only got two!

— Are you blaming me for not being able to have another child after you were born, ha-ha? — Sweet Ann retorted playfully, glaring at her son with mock anger. — You broke me, my dear Hio! And to think you were such a tiny baby!

Hio's head drooped in guilt, clearly taking his mother's joke to heart.

— Hey, hey, I'm just teasing! Come on, finish your soup, or no turkey for you! And you, Oliver, why so quiet? Did you finish everything?

I flinched at her slightly stern tone but quickly nodded, pushing my bowl a few inches away. James, who had been perched in my bowl, nibbling on the remaining soup-soaked croutons, hopped out and flapped his wings as if shaking off tiny droplets.

— That's rude, James... — Big Al chuckled, leaning toward us and gently poking the little bird on his tiny head with a finger. James immediately fell onto his back, dramatically pretending to be defeated. — Oh-ho, quite the actor, isn't he?

— A clever little bird! — Ruby laughed as she helped Ann collect the empty dishes from the table.

James sprang back to life, flew up, perched on my head, and proudly struck a pose, bowing theatrically like a miniature actor. His antics drew laughter from the entire family.

— Oh my, what a cutie! — Ann exclaimed with childlike wonder, her eyes sparkling as she watched James. — What else can he do?

— Oh... well... lots of things. He helps me with everything. He's creative, a real performer! — I said with a shy smile, taking James into my hands and holding him to my chest. — For example, he helps with my puppets — my marionettes. He uses feet and beak, though I don't give him any complicated movements.

— Oh, so you're a performer too? — Hio asked, clearly interested in art. — I thought you only cleaned chimneys.

— Don't make me laugh, Hio! — Ruby giggled as she returned to the living room with clean dishes, her laugh infectious enough to make me smile too. Hio was a little... silly? Naive, I guess... Yes, he was too young to have kids.

— Ha-ha, no, of course not. Chimney sweeping is just a necessity. — I replied, glancing at my bag lying by my foot. In it were a few of my toys. — You can't make enough just from street puppet shows, singing, or selling plush toys and I would still have to save up for a new blanket somehow, because mine does not save from the cold properly ...

— Oh, you sing? — Ann asked, as she placed a large tray on the table, covered by a lid. Even with the lid on, a delicious aroma wafted out — meat, potatoes, vegetables. My head spun from the smell; it was overwhelming.

— I... I don't want to talk about that right now... — I said, averting my eyes to the Christmas tree. The clothes I wore reminded me of my choir days, and it was painful to think about those memories now, even in such a pleasant moment.

— Oh, I understand, it's okay... — Ann said gently, placing a plate in front of me, along with a fork and knife. Their utensils were so beautiful and refined, with intricate designs. It made me nervous even to touch them; they felt too precious. — Well then! Let's let our guest choose the best piece first!

— Oh, no, Ann, please... you don't have to...! — I mumbled, blushing from embarrassment, but I couldn't say more, because Sweet Ann lifted the lid, and the dish beneath made me fall silent.

On the silver platter lay a golden-brown turkey, roasted alongside potatoes and brussels sprouts. The turkey's skin was perfect — crispy, with the color of dark amber — and a thin layer of fat gleamed in the candlelight, as though it were coated with an invisible glaze. At the bottom of the tray, thick, fragrant juices shimmered, soaking into the meat and vegetables. The smell... It was so rich and overwhelming that I felt as though my senses might fail me. Just the aroma made my stomach ache with hunger, and all I could think about was tasting even the smallest bite.

I could hardly believe I was seeing such food— so perfect and festive. The turkey, cooked to perfection, with potatoes that looked lightly roasted with a deep golden crust, and brussels sprouts covered in bits of browned fat, promised a flavour I hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. It had been so long since I'd eaten meat — let alone something like this. Not just a plain boiled chicken breast with black bread, which I'd occasionally managed to steal from the market, but a truly golden, lovingly prepared turkey, made with care and some level of expertise.

It was all so beautiful and appetising that it felt like something meant for a royal feast. I stared at the turkey, unable to look away, even forgetting to blink as though hypnotised. I wanted to reach out, grab the turkey, and run away to eat it all on my own, but I restrained myself, knowing I couldn't act that way with such kind people as this family.

Then, suddenly, as if reading my thoughts, James flew to the platter and grabbed a piece of crispy turkey skin with his beak, tugging on it as if to take the entire dish for himself.

I quickly grabbed him, frightened that the family would be angry at such audacity, and held him tightly to my chest. But my fears were unfounded. Instead of anger, the entire family erupted in laughter.

— Oh, such courage! — Ruby exclaimed with admiration, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. — I love him!

— He wants a taste of the holiday feast too! — Big Al laughed, shaking his head slightly. — Well, since he's so persistent, maybe we should let him have a little. But not the skin — let's save that for our guest; it's too seasoned for birds. Better to give him something safer.

I felt the tension leave my body, and I carefully released James from my grasp, though he remained perched in my hands.

— Well, since he already claimed a leg, let's give him one! — Sweet Ann said, handing her husband a large carving knife meant for slicing the turkey.

— But... those legs are mine... — Hio muttered with a mock-disappointed look at his mother.

— You'll have the other leg — you need to learn to share with the younger ones! — Ann replied confidently, her tone both playful and firm, as she served me potatoes and Brussels sprouts while Big Al carefully carved the turkey into portions, making sure the meat was evenly distributed. — And what would you do if you actually had a little brother? Kids love legs!

— Then I wouldn't want a little brother... — Hio joked, lowering his head.

— Too late... — I chimed in with a wide, genuine smile. I hadn't smiled like that in so long, but the warmth and comfort of the moment made it feel natural. — I'm already here... and so is James.

— Is James your brother, then? — Al teased as he carefully placed a beautifully roasted drumstick onto my plate.

— Well, not by blood, but he's like a brother to me! — I laughed, lightly tapping James on his tiny head. — He's the only one I have, the one who's always there for me. So yes, a brother, younger...maybe older, it's how you count.

— How long have you had him? How old is he? — Ruby asked, genuinely curious as if trying to determine who was older.

— Not too long... about a year and a half, no, a little less, I was already working as a chimney sweep when I got him. When he came to me, he was small but could already fly a little. He's grown up since then. — I replied, stroking James, who had managed to snatch a иrussels sprout and was happily pecking at it.

— Oh... well, domestic goldfinches usually live around nine years, as far as I know... — Hio began thoughtfully. — If we humans live roughly sixty years on average, let's use that as a scale. If nine years is the full lifespan of a goldfinch, then your James is around 12 years old, relatively speaking. At least, by my reckoning.

— Oh... so we're the same age, James! Why do you act like the older one, then? — I exclaimed, poking the bird gently on the cheek. — You're just so caring, sweet, and loyal. You better live a long, long time!

— Well, considering nine years is for goldfinches in ideal domestic conditions, and you two live on the streets, I'd say he might make it to six years. So, not that long, really. He'd live longer with better care... — Ruby remarked with a tinge of pity as she looked at me and James. Her words felt like a dagger to my heart. I had been trying so hard not to think about such things.

— Ruby, you can't say things like that! — Big Al exclaimed, clearly understanding that James was my last beacon of hope in life. — Don't listen to her, Oliver! Sometimes she speaks without thinking. She's careless — just like her mother — but also tactless!

I pressed my lips together and stared at the food in front of me, trying to focus on something positive, afraid I might cry in front of these kind people. The thought of losing James was more terrifying than dying. I feared losing him more than the prospect of going to Hell after death. Every time I thought about the possibility of him dying, tears would come unbidden. And now I was on the verge of tears again.

— C-can I... use the restroom? — I asked in a quiet, trembling voice, struggling to hold back both my words and my tears.

Ann looked at me with concern, her worry evident in her face. She had heard my trembling tone, seen how pale I had grown, and clearly understood how much Ruby's words had upset me.

— Yes, come with me... — Ann said gently, taking my hand and leading me out of the room. James followed us, flying close, as though worried for me or afraid to be apart from me. Ann led me to a door and opened it.

Their family had a lovely bathroom: a bathtub in one corner, a sink with a mirror above it, and nearby, various toiletries, toothbrushes, and towels. On one side was a toilet with a water flush — something I hadn't seen in ages. Poorer families and even many middle-class households only had chamber pots tucked under beds or outdoor privies. The bathroom itself was beautifully decorated with little figurines, patterns, and artwork.

— Here you go... — Ann said, gently guiding me into the bathroom and releasing my hand. She seemed about to leave but hesitated, watching me for a moment. Then she crouched down to my level, not wanting to speak to me from above. — Are you alright, sweetie? Did Ruby's words upset you? Don't think about it, sweetheart...

— I'm fine. I just, um... need to go to the loo. — I whispered, turning my face away from her.

James, perched on my shoulder, let out a soft chirp as if telling Ann to leave me be. She seemed to understand and stood, quietly exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

As soon as the door closed, I moved to the corner, leaned my back against the cold wall, slid down to the floor, and clutched James tightly in my arms, holding him as firmly as I could. An overwhelming fear gripped me... A deep, almost unbearable sense of loneliness welled up inside, filling my thoughts and making my heart pound. I squeezed James even tighter, unable to let go, as if this simple gesture could protect him from death.

— James... — I whispered, my voice trembling, tears breaking through. — Please... don't go... ever, do you hear me? I... I can't live without you. You're... you're all I have. If you go, I'll go with you, on the same day, in the same second... that's the only way...

I let out a quiet sob, closing my eyes and holding James even closer, as if trying to erase my fear with my embrace. The thought that he might one day disappear from my life, leaving me utterly alone, tore me apart from the inside. I curled up, my body trembling with quiet sobs, each one bringing a sharp, almost physical pain. I begged him not to leave me, clutching James tighter and tighter, until I heard a sharp, high-pitched squeak.

I immediately loosened my grip, looking at him in panic, but James merely fluttered slightly, spread his wings, and slipped free from my hands. He flew up, circled cautiously around me, and then perched on my shoulder, nuzzling against my neck. I felt the soft, warm feathers brush against my skin, and the touch brought a quiet, barely perceptible comfort, as if he was promising, without knowing how, that he wouldn't leave me.

— I'm sorry, James... — I whispered, stumbling over my words. — I'm sorry... I shouldn't have thought like that... It's just... I'm so scared, it makes me sick... I...

I broke off as I heard sharp footsteps outside the door, and a moment later, the door creaked open slightly. Tears still streaked my face, and I didn't have time to wipe them away before Al peeked into the room, his eyes filled with concern. He stepped in, closing the door behind him, and, as if unwilling to leave me alone at such a moment, slowly sat down beside me.

My stomach churned... Al terrified me so much — his voice, his presence. And now he was seeing me at my most vulnerable, after a breakdown... I was a boy, and boys weren't supposed to cry, especially not in front of a man as large as Al. Yet here I was, unable to stop my quiet sobs, awkwardly interrupting the silence.

— Y-you... shouldn't just walk into the lavatory when someone's in here... — I said quietly, trying to shift the focus away from my tears, though it was obviously futile.

— Oh, come on, it's not as if it's hard to tell you didn't come in here for that... And even if you did — we're both lads, nothing to be ashamed of. — The man replied, placing a hand on my shoulder. James, unimpressed by the touch, tried to peck him but struck his beak against Al's wedding ring instead. Startled, the little bird retreated. — I told you — don't listen to that daft girl. Ruby always says the wrong thing, we've spoiled her a bit. Calm down, Oliver...

— But she's... she's right... — I sniffled again, averting my gaze and letting the tears flow once more. — He'll die soon... and I... and I, when I think about it... I just can't stop crying. It hurts so much I feel sick...

And I truly did feel sick. My mind conjured the image of James, frozen stiff, lying on his back in the snow, his tiny, frozen feet sticking up, lifeless. My poor little friend...

— There, there... stop it now... — Al said, slowly pulling me closer to his sturdy shoulder. — You shouldn't dwell on such things before they happen. You've got to live with a bit of joy, enjoy the moment...

— Oh, sure, thanks for the advice, rich man, it's so easy to enjoy life for me... — I retorted sarcastically, biting the nail of my thumb in frustration. — Easy for you to say, of course... but I'm lower than a yard dog in this society. Just like so many other kids like me... Some of us don't even make it to sixteen if we 'don't think ahead,' so what exactly are you trying to prove to me here? What are you teaching me? Ever been poor, have you? Doesn't look like it...

— Never was, and I'm not going to lie. Still... Isn't it better to live savouring the happy moments rather than suffering your entire life, only thinking about how bad things are? How would you rather live?

I fell silent, realising he was right, even though he clearly had far more chances to find joy than I did. It was easier for him to talk. But I didn't want to give in so easily... All these grown, wealthy men, I didn't trust a single one of them. Ordinary men I'd known, husbands of decent women, even my father — none of them had been good people in my life. Young lads, girls, and women were far kinder, gentler... And what could one expect? In a world where rich, grown men held all the power, of course they'd lose their minds from it.

— Enough now... you're clearly still hungry. That soup wasn't enough; you need to eat properly, and you'll feel better. I bet it's been a while since you had turkey! — Al said with a kind smile, patting my shoulder.

— Oh, thanks... — I muttered sarcastically, and Al looked at me with confusion, clearly unable to fathom why I was so hostile. — And then I'll go back to my cold basement and torture myself with the thought that I'll never eat anything like that again...

I hadn't meant to say it, but something inside me compelled me to argue, without even having a reason... I didn't trust Al, didn't want to let him get close, perhaps that's why I spoke so harshly, as if my mouth acted of its own accord.

— You're arguing just to argue, aren't you? Fine, don't eat if you don't want to... — He sighed heavily, his tone tinged with sadness, as he let go of me and moved to stand. But suddenly, I broke down into loud sobs again, curling into a ball and covering my face with my hands. I was a pathetic little kid — I couldn't even hold my ground without breaking into tears when I saw I'd upset someone.

— S-sorry... — I whimpered, curling up tighter. — I'm sorry... I'm such a fool...

Big Al didn't reply to my words but instead moved a little closer and gently hugged me, pressing my head against his solid chest and placing his large, heavy, but warm hands on my back. He hugged me... Even James was shocked by this, so much so that he didn't try to chase him away with a squeak — he simply couldn't chirp in his astonishment. Sympathetic, emotional, sentimental women had sometimes hugged me when I passed by offering my services, but men — never... I had never seen men hug anyone, not even their wives, and here was this man, one of the most masculine I'd ever seen, hugging me — an unknown child who he probably wouldn't have let into his house if not for his wife.

— There, there... no need to cry... everything's all right now, calm down... — the man said, gently rubbing my back. — Come on now... You can't spend Christmas like this, in tears and sniffles... Who does that, eh?

— H-ha-h... — I laughed quietly through my tears, removing my hands from my face and wrapping them around his back, afraid that the hug would end. How long it had been since anyone held me during a breakdown. — This is the second year I've s-spent it like this...!

I expected a chuckle in response — my words were a joke, albeit a sad one — but Al remained silent, not laughing. Didn't he realise I was joking...? Then again, it wasn't entirely a joke, just a fact presented in a light-hearted tone.

— You're a poor joker... — he sighed, pulling away slightly, and I released him as well, afraid to insist on prolonging the hug.

As Al looked into my tear-filled eyes — well, just one of them — he gently wiped away the tears streaming down my face with his large thumb. His touch was careful, almost tender, and I instinctively turned my gaze away, embarrassed by such an intimate gesture. His hands were so warm... even pleasant. His touch frightened me, but at the same time, I didn't want him to let go.

— I'm sorry... — I apologised, sniffling. — I... I behaved rudely and foolishly... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have cried.

— Ah, don't be silly... Everyone cries now and then; some are just better at holding back their tears to let them out in private later. — Al said kindly, giving me a warm smile. His eyes looked so kind at that moment. Usually, his brows were set in a slightly stern expression, but now they were relaxed.

— No... I'm a boy...

— And Hio isn't a boy? He cries a lot! — Al said, patting my head. — You should see him, ha-ha... He's a sensitive young man. After performing in front of a large audience, he always comes to his teacher or to me, crying in our arms. No matter how many times he performs, he always breaks down in front of a big crowd... Sometimes he even arranges blind concerts so he doesn't have to see anyone, and people think he's just showing off his skills, ha-ha. So, don't make things up. Some cry even more often, but they just hide it, especially boys. What can you do? Few people are willing to break the boundaries set by society, so they hold back. But those who break those boundaries are the ones shaping our future, our progress. So don't worry about it; showing your feelings isn't a bad thing. You can't keep everything bottled up...

Al was... a kind man. So understanding and compassionate. His imposing build and stern expression didn't stop him from being gentle. For the first time, I met a man like this — a rich man, but also a good one. I wished I could be like him when I grew up... if only I weren't destined to die young from this harsh life and my poor habits.

— Mmm... — I murmured, blushing with embarrassment. Al looked at me with a hint of concern, perhaps thinking I was about to cry again. But instead, I leaned into him once more, placing my hands on his shoulders. The man hesitated for a moment but soon responded, wrapping me in a quiet embrace and resting his chin on the top of my head. James, shocked by my behaviour, shifted nervously nearby but eventually perched on my thigh, snuggling against my stomach.

There was such a comforting, fatherly kindness about Al, though I had nothing to compare it to — my father had never hugged me or spoken to me much. But there was no other way to describe this warmth... Hugging someone else's child wasn't common, yet he held me as if I weren't a stranger.

— All right, all right... Ann's probably worrying herself sick by now... — Big Al said, though he kept his arms around me, as if waiting for me to let go first. — Come on now, you need to eat something hearty, Oli...!

"Oli"... How strange that sounded. Only one person had called me that before — and even then, only recently. It was the one who had helped me out of the chimney once. But we'd known each other for six months by then, and this was practically my first real meeting with Al. The unfamiliarity made me feel uneasy, even spooked, so I finally released him and stood up as he did. He carefully smoothed down my hair to make me look less dishevelled, then took my hand and led me out of the lavatory, back to the table.

I'd been gone for quite a while, and it was clear to everyone that I hadn't been in the lavatory for its intended purpose. It felt nerve-wracking to return, not wanting to discuss what had happened, but I knew I had to be strong.

— Oh, Oliver! — Sweet Ann exclaimed when we returned. She immediately came over and touched my cheeks, as if checking for tears. But I was calm now, so she found nothing. — Are you all right, sweetie?

— Y-yes, I'm fine... — I replied quietly, looking away.

— Hey... I'm sorry I said something so thoughtless... I wasn't thinking. — Ruby said, looking at me and James with regret and concern. — Don't take it to heart...

— I said it's fine! — I said with a slightly awkward smile, clasping my hands together. — Everything's okay!

— That's good, then... — Hio said in his usual calm tone, pressing the edge of a clean fork to his dry lips. — You look tired... Sit down and eat already.

I pressed my lips together, feeling a wave of nervousness at the thought of sitting at the table with everyone again, but I nodded and sat down in my place.

— We didn't start eating without you — it would've been impolite. But I remembered the salad! Here, sweetie... — Sweet Ann said gently, placing a small plate of salad next to the plate of turkey in front of me. — Would you like some juice?

— Uh... yes, I guess? — I said quietly, and Ruby handed her mother a glass, identical to Hio's, while everyone else had long-stemmed wine glasses.

— Or would you like a bit of wine? It's lightly alcoholic, grape wine! — Ann offered, pouring juice into my glass until it was a little more than half full. — Have you ever tried alcohol?

— Oh, no... I've got no adults to supervise me, and I'm too young; you need to be thirteen. Besides, I don't need it. — I replied, taking the glass from her hands.

— Oh, you're only twelve? When do you turn thirteen — soon? — Ruby asked, sipping her wine.

— In a year... I only turned twelve four days ago, ha-ha...! — I said with a small smile, carefully tearing off a piece of turkey and handing it to James.

— Oh, how awful... — Sweet Ann said sadly, looking at me with pity. — Did you really spend your birthday in this cold? And no gifts... Don't you get anything from the church?

— Oh, there wasn't much celebrating... I spent the day in the chimneys, so I wasn't cold, ha-ha. And the church doesn't give anything to kids like me. I'm not tied to an orphanage or workhouse, so I don't qualify for gifts. They consider me a loafer, even though that's not true... I chose this life knowingly, so there's no need to pity me! — I said with a carefree smile, trying to ease Sweet Ann's sadness over how bleak my birthday had been.

— Why aren't you tied to one? — Hio asked curiously. — Isn't it better there?

— Well, it's better... sort of. You get food, a bed, it's not as cold — that's the upside. But everything else is worse... — I replied, recalling the workhouse with a tinge of sorrow. — You work nine hours a day until your fingers ache. They don't provide education, the food is awful, and the older kids take it from you. If you resist, they beat you. No money either, of course. It's better on the street, in the basement — especially in spring, summer, and autumn. I think I ate less there than I do now... At least now I can manage my own schedule a bit. There are enough chimney sweeps, so they don't push us too hard. There's more freedom, though still little money. The senior chimney sweeps leave little money for us and take the rest for themselves. Remember those four shillings you gave me? They took three, ha-ha...! But now I sometimes get to do things I love and can even earn a little from it. I'm a creative person — not cut out for the workhouse...

After my story, everyone fell silent, as if deep in thought. We sat in silence for a few seconds until a soft sniffle broke the silence. Sweet Ann quickly covered her face with her hands and turned away.

— Oh, my goodness, my dear Ann, what's wrong?! Hey... — Al asked, alarmed by his wife's tears, as he knelt in front of her.

— Oh, Mother, what's the matter...? — Hio added, rushing to her side and wrapping his arms around her.

— It's so horrible! — Ann cried through her sobs. — Those poor children! How can it be so unfair? They work and work, and they don't even get proper food, the poor darlings!

— Oh, Mum... you're too sentimental! — Ruby chimed in, stroking her mother's hair.

— It's unforgivable, the way they mistreat children! — Ann continued, her voice tinged with anger, as though she wanted to throttle those who ran the workhouses and didn't make sure the older children didn't steal food from the younger ones. — Al! Why is it like this? You have connections and influence! Do something about it! And also children shouldn't be working as chimney sweeps!

— My dear... I only have influence in our town, and you're asking me to change the whole of England. Helping just Oliver's workhouse wouldn't be fair to the others. What makes those children any different? It wouldn't be right... — Al replied, glancing at me with a sad smile. In his eyes, I saw the unspoken words: "What have you done, silly boy?"

— A-Ann... it's all right... — I said softly, feeling guilty for upsetting such a lovely family. — It's not so bad... It's just the way some people's lives turn out. The opportunity for kids to be chimney sweeps is important, we have to get money from somewhere, although I won't be able to any time soon, I'm getting older. Please don't cry... no one's better off when you cry over such trifles. You're... you're so sweet... It's better if you brighten the world with your sunny smile.

I gave her a gentle smile, and she looked up at me with wide, glistening eyes before leaning in and tenderly hugging me, pressing her face against my small chest.

— Oh, what a sweet child... Forgive us, foolish rich folks... — Ann apologised, stroking my back. — I wish I could help you, sweet boy...

— Oh, you've already done so much... I haven't felt this good in a long time. Let's not dwell on sad things and enjoy the rest of this Christmas evening! But... I'll leave if my presence makes this evening more sorrowful for you...

— No! Don't go, I'm sorry! — Ann exclaimed, then pressed her lips together and wiped her tears away with her hands. — It's fine... I just got carried away.

— All right, let's calm down and eat! Oliver deserves a good Christmas — last year didn't seem too successful! — Ruby said with a smirk as she let go of her mother and returned to her seat. Her teasing remark earned her disapproving looks from everyone else, and feeling the weight of their gazes, she sat up straight and buried herself in her salad, not waiting for anyone else

Soon, everyone settled down and returned to their seats, picking up their glasses. Seeing this, I hesitated briefly before doing the same.

— Well... — Al began. — Despite all the tears shed today, I hope this Christmas will be the last sad one, and from now on, things will get better for us all. So... Ruby, my dear, this Christmas, I wish for you to feel safe and confident enough to be open about who you love.

— Ha-ha, very unrealistic, but thanks, Dad! — Ruby said with a cheerful grin, then turned to her mother and took her hand. — I wish for you, Mum, to grow stronger so you won't cry anymore and will smile more often!

— Thank you, thank you! — Sweet Ann said, brushing away the last of her tears before turning to Hio with a smile. — And for you, Hio, I wish for a happy family life! Don't let Maika tempt you too much — she's a dream girl, but you mustn't forget to care for yourself! I also wish you bravery and resilience so that no unforeseen event can throw you off balance!

— Thank you, Mother... — Hio replied with a slight blush, bowing his head. Then, his gaze turned to me, and I tensed, dreading what he might wish for me. Would I have to make a wish for Al in return? In my family, we never exchanged Christmas wishes — just a toast and that was it. But here, it seemed to be a tradition. — Oli... — Hio said softly, his gentle voice using another affectionate form of my name, one no one else had ever used. — I wish for you to find a warm place in life where you can always feel comfortable, where you can spend the rest of your childhood happily, doing what you love instead of dirty work. And for James, I wish for a happy life too...

— Oh... um... th-thank you... — I murmured, bowing my head slightly, with James chirping in agreement. Then, I glanced surreptitiously at Big Al, turned to him, swallowed the lump in my throat, and decided to wish him something too. Lacking experience, my effort came out a bit clumsy. — I wish you, Al... um... good health... a long and happy life with your family... and... stuff like that...

James suddenly interrupted with a chirping sound, as if making a wish of his own for the man. His unexpected squeaks brought amused, slightly awkward smiles to everyone's faces.

— Thank you, boys... — Al said with a good-natured chuckle, reaching across the table to ruffle my hair.

As the head of the family, Al raised his glass high, bringing it to the centre of the table. Everyone followed suit, including me, after a moment of hesitation. We clinked glasses and then took a sip. Al, Ann, and Ruby had pure wine, while Hio and I had grape juice. It was tasty and pleasant but very sweet, sweeter than I was used to. Hio seemed to feel the same, as he took only a small sip before setting his glass down.

— And you, Hio, don't drink alcohol? Why so? — I asked, setting my glass down on the table.

— Ah... well. You see, artists can be quite sensitive at times, and I'm precisely that sort of person, which means drinking isn't for me. — the young lad replied, picking up a fork and knife to carefully separate the turkey meat from the bone. — Step onto that path, and there's no turning back: no full breath of fresh air, no appreciation of music, no sense of self. You start by drinking for fun, once, twice, and then decide to drown out pain with it. Later, you'll justify it, saying, "Oh, it helps my imagination flourish when I'm tipsy." And before you know it, you're sinking into alcohol. I don't want that... There are so many composers and pianists from the past whom I admire. They created such masterpieces... but how many more might they have created if they hadn't succumbed to drink? It's such a pity... truly such a pity...

— Oh, what nonsense you've come up with! — Al laughed, setting his own glass down on the table. — Your teacher, doesn't he enjoy a glass of wine now and then? He's even drunk in your presence, hasn't he? Like that time at the restaurant — you both drank, even though it ended badly for you, Hio!

— Don't you dare compare that man to anyone else! — Hio exclaimed, lightly tapping his fist on the table. The gesture seemed meant to emphasise the firmness of his words, but his gentle nature didn't allow for it to come across strongly. — That man, he...! No, it's different, completely different! Teachers aren't to be criticised! He knows how to control himself; he's entirely self-aware. He channels all his emotions into his music, whereas someone like me still has so much to learn. I keep everything bottled up, which is why alcohol is dangerous for me! And he advised me against drinking because he knows I'm sometimes weak in spirit!

— Oh, darling, Al wasn't criticising! He was just making a point... — Ann interjected, smiling warmly as she attempted to soothe her son. But Hio wouldn't back down.

— No... Teachers... they're different. You mustn't compare us. I'm a student, and I'll never surpass him. He's better than me in everything... his music has more soul. He... he's something else... — A kind smile briefly broke through Hio's stern expression, as if he were recalling his teacher. From discussing alcohol, Hio had abruptly transitioned into singing his mentor's praises. — Don't attribute such things to him. He's above such base dependencies. Creating magnificent music — that's his calling. Neither alcohol nor cigarettes...

— Ha-ha-ha, he is already addicted! — Ruby laughed, speaking through a mouthful of turkey and potatoes. — He's a cat lover, isn't he?

— Oh, don't twist things around. — Hio hissed sharply, pointing his knife at his sister. — End of discussion. I don't drink alcohol because I'm from this world, and I'm weak in spirit. As for my teacher, there's nothing more to discuss. His soul is strong...

— He's... that important to you...? — I asked, intrigued. A great pianist, playing without sheet music, with his eyes closed, performing both slow melodies and lightning-fast compositions, yet he claims his teacher surpasses him. Isn't it fascinating to ponder what such a teacher might have done?

— Of course... — Hio replied softly now. — He was the one who brought me to music. My mother was fond of the piano too, but I wasn't interested. Then, when I heard his music — that's when I wanted to play. And he let me. I was sitting on his lap, playing for the first time... The moment I heard a melody he'd created, I nearly perfectly repeated it, knowing nothing of music. He showed me how to play from the heart, to follow the melody of my soul, no matter how childishly naive it might seem. My previous teacher, seeing my talent, only drilled me on the most difficult compositions... but I didn't want that. I was five; I wasn't interested! I wanted to play something joyful, something light — I wanted to play by playing the piano, ha-ha... Maybe... maybe I would've been better if I'd stayed with that teacher, but I only found happiness when I went to the new one. I was seven, and he was young too... What was he then, 23-24? He was kind because he'd only just left childhood himself and understood how dull it was for a child to play only hyper-serious pieces. And now, even as an adult, he knows that my childhood was taken from me by that old teacher, who never let me relax for a moment. He understands I need to reclaim that, which he helps me do with his sometimes playful music. My teacher... he's still got a child's spirit, a child's soul. — His face turned pensive for a moment, as though mentally revisiting those distant years when he first heard living, genuine music straight from the soul. — And I'm grateful to him for showing it to me...

He smiled warmly, shaking his head to signal that the topic was closed, and placed a piece of turkey in his mouth, finally indulging in the food. It was fascinating to listen to... After all, every genius has an inspiration behind them. Perhaps Hio really might have drowned himself in drink if his teacher hadn't shown him the joy of playing... Alcoholics don't become that way out of happiness. The conversation had gotten away from the original topic, though, and the teacher didn't seem to mind having a glass or two, so Hio just ended up going off on his own, praising the mastermind. It felt natural... This man had done so much for Hio that it was no surprise he could start talking about him out of nowhere and with such admiration.

After a few seconds of silence, I finally came out of my musings, for James, not really interested in Hio and his story of becoming a great pianist, started asking for more food.

— Well, fancy that — a bird eating bird! — Ruby laughed, grabbing another piece of turkey from the tray. — You, Oliver, eat up already instead of just listening to that lunatic, or your James won't leave you anything!

— Oh, come now... I can't eat much as it is. — I replied, cutting a piece of meat from the turkey leg. — Besides, how's he a lunatic? If the teacher is good, he deserves gratitude...! I'd give anything for my choir teacher to have loved his work and his students. Two years of lessons, and I never saw him smile even once...

— Choir?! — Ann exclaimed in surprise, her interest piqued by something close to her heart. — Oh, my sweet child, my kindred spirit!

She clapped her hands with delight, looking at me with admiration.

— Perhaps you'll sing for us tonight? — Ruby suggested, glancing at the Christmas tree as if pointing out the spot where I should stand and perform. — We'll even pay you!

— Oh... there's no need, you've already paid... — I replied with a sheepish smile, nodding. — But... I'll think about it...

— Later! — Ann interjected, snatching my fork, spearing a piece of meat from my plate, and popping it straight into my mouth, insisting I eat, like a mother feeding a stubborn child. I fell silent immediately, savouring the juicy, pleasant flavour on my tongue. — Eat, I say, or it'll get cold. After dinner, you'll showcase your talents!

Carefully, I took the fork from her hand, removing its metal stem from my mouth as I began to chew the meat... It was incredible — tender, juicy, with a delightful texture. I hadn't expected to taste something this wonderful again. I'd thought that soup was the epitome of perfection, but no... roasted turkey with potatoes and Brussels sprouts — this was it. Something perfect, marvellous, indescribable.

— Oh... — I gasped, swallowing the bite, and tears began streaming down my cheeks once again. I was so grateful...

— Hey, why are you crying again? — Ruby asked with a smile, understanding that these weren't tears of sadness but of overwhelming emotion. — What a sensitive boy you are!

— Ha-ha, well, how could he not cry? It's the first time in ages he's had turkey, and cooked by Ann's hands no less...! — Al laughed, but quickly quieted when he noticed James wasn't happy about anyone mocking my tears.

James perched on my arm and used his soft little head to wipe away my tears, making me cry even more from the kindness of it all. The only sadness was knowing it would all vanish when Christmas ended, and I'd have to leave...

— Oh, enough, enough! — Hio exclaimed, handing me a napkin. — No need to cry. It's delicious, isn't it? No reason for tears! There, calm down, Oli...

I flinched at the sweet, shortened version of my name but, without thinking, wiped my face with my sleeve before finally taking the napkin. After dabbing away my tears and wiping my nose, my vision cleared — and I realised I'd soiled the borrowed clothes with my damned snot! How could I do such a thing? The clothes had been kindly lent to me for the evening, and I'd already made them disgusting!

— S-sorry... — I mumbled softly, trying to rub the wet patch on the fabric with the napkin, though it didn't help much. — I... I'll pay for it...

What I said was, of course, stupid. These clothes were expensive, high-quality — probably worth more than I'd earned in my entire life. There was no way I could afford to repay such a loss.

— Don't worry yourself, sweetie! — Ann said warmly, her smile radiant now that I had stopped crying. It was still strange to hear her call me "sweetie", but she seemed to address everyone like that... and truly, she was Sweet herself. — It's just a bit of snot; I'll wash it all! Now, keep eating! Come on, as compensation, eat up!

I smiled faintly, letting out a soft laugh at how insistent she was about me eating. Ann was so kind — so incredibly kind. I liked her very much.

Obediently, I dried my tears completely, though the aftermath of brightly flushed cheeks and nose remained. Then, I returned to my meal: the delicious turkey with potatoes and brussels sprouts, paired with salad and washed down with grape juice. It was ridiculously tasty — perhaps the best meal I'd ever had. I felt such warmth inside... It wasn't just the food; it was the kindness shown to me, the cosiness of this house, the beauty of the decorated Christmas tree nearby, the sense of safety. I didn't want to leave... I wanted to stay here forever. But even if that wasn't possible, they might invite me again to spend time together, wouldn't they? Perhaps... this wasn't my last warm evening. That thought made me happy.

— So, Oliver... — Ruby spoke up again, finishing her meal. — How did you end up on the streets? From my experience with homeless orphans, you're far too polite and well-mannered for someone who's lived their whole life on the streets. And you even sang in a choir, didn't you? You said you lived with your mother once — what was she like, anyway? What was your life like?

— Ruby, you shouldn't... — Al began, concerned that the topic might upset me, but I shook my head, not wanting to make a scene.

— It's alright, Al... I need to get used to the fact that she's gone. — I said, swallowing the bite of potato and turkey in my mouth. — I lost my mother a year and a half ago... She died in the autumn. You might've heard about the train accident, the one that derailed...? We were on that train. But she wasn't as lucky as I was...

— Oh, yes, Al and I were on that train too! And Ruby! — Ann exclaimed, staring at me in horror. — Oh, I'm so sorry... We were injured as well; that's where we got our scars! And... is that where you lost your eye?

— Yes, you guessed it, he-he. — I nodded. — Small world... I'm sorry you suffered too...

— No need... — Al said with a gentle smile. — We're alright now...

— Except Ruby hit her head and started fancying women... — Hio quipped slyly, setting his empty plate aside.

— Hey! You're the one who hit your head! — Ruby snapped, leaping up from the table indignantly. — And what are you blabbing about in front of a stray? He'll spread it around, you fool!

— Oh, but didn't you already say you liked women, in passing? — I teased, pushing my nearly empty plate aside and letting James nibble on the leftover brussels sprouts.

— I thought a little boy, so sweet and innocent, wouldn't even know that loving someone of the same gender was possible, so he wouldn't understand unless told outright... — Ruby sighed heavily, spearing a potato from the communal tray with her fork. — Or have you experienced it yourself?

My ears and cheeks flushed bright red, my hair practically standing on end at her baseless yet uncannily accurate accusation.

— No... — I muttered quietly, averting my gaze to the fireplace.

But James, that little traitor, decided to insert himself into the conversation. He began making odd, chirping noises as though trying to laugh — something surprisingly possible for a bird. He flew up, circled above my head to draw attention, then landed on my head and started pecking at my nose as if to indicate it should grow because of my lie.

— Ha-ha, you two were made for each other! — Hio laughed, addressing Ruby while carefully lifting James and placing him back on the table to stop him from pecking me. — So, who's the lucky lad, you little deviant?

— Why call him a deviant straight away? God said to love... and the nonsense people wrote later for manipulation is just that — nonsense. I refuse to believe that God could be so cruel as to forbid mutual, beautiful love! — Ann interjected indignantly. — Love saves us in our darkest moments, so it's good that even living on the streets, Oli can love... Is it mutual, though? Don't worry, sweetie, we won't tell a soul!

— No... — I shook my head. — He's wealthy; he wouldn't even look my way... We're just friends, I think. He helped me out of a chimney when I got stuck in it, and he got filthy himself in the process... His nobility won me over. He often invited me to his place, but not in winter. His mother dislikes the cold, so they always go somewhere warmer...

— Are you talking about Fukase? The lad who's always prancing around in women's clothes... — Hio guessed, showing an unusual amount of interest in my story. — You two do resemble each other a bit... perhaps in appearance? Both of you have slight... facial quirks.

— Don't reduce everything to physical flaws, Hio. Why focus on appearances? — Sweet Ann scolded, casting a disapproving glance at him.

— Just feeling proud of myself... — I said, implying that Hio was too handsome not to be preoccupied with looks, which made it unsurprising he focused on appearances. — So, yes... that's about it. But if you tell anyone, I'll spill all of Ruby's secrets!

— Oh no-o-o, what shall we do... — Ruby replied sarcastically, matching my tone. — Don't do it, Oliver!

— You made me cry earlier, so I definitely will! — I retorted with a sly grin, feeling surprisingly at ease in their company.

— Oh, you're just upset because Ruby's love is mutual while yours isn't! — Big Al laughed, sipping his wine.

— Pfft, as if I care for that girly-looking boy! — I laughed along. — I don't need anyone as long as I have James!

Hearing his name in such a sweet context, James hopped excitedly across the table, then nestled into my hand. He pressed himself close, urging me to lift him to my face, which I did, only to receive a "kiss" in the form of a gentle peck on my lips.

— James is as precious to me as the Candle Boy was to the lost children in the dark forest... — I continued, planting a kiss on the little bird's head. After that, he climbed off my hand, dove under the table, and emerged with a charming, homemade puppet of a boy with a candlewick-like strand of hair. The figure, though entirely made of wood, was incredibly lifelike. Hio cast a curious glance at the puppet but quickly looked away, as if embarrassed. — That's why he plays the lead role whenever I retell that story for the hundredth time. James is the star. If I were the protagonist, he'd be the second-most important character. Honestly, he saves me from death every single day in real life, ha-ha. Isn't that right, James?

James looked at me with a touch of confusion before setting the puppet down on the table. He then perched on my shoulder and pressed against my neck as tightly as he could, chirping softly as though crying.

— Oh, hey, don't cry! — I exclaimed, alarmed by my Candle Bird's distress. I immediately cradled him to my chest, hoping it would calm him. — I was joking cruelly. I don't have such thoughts — everything's alright...

I stroked the bird's head gently and kissed his little forehead before placing him back on the table. Yet he instantly came back to me, pressing against my chest with all his might. I'd once confided my deepest feelings to him, and he understood me like a true human. Now, he feared I might actually hurt myself, and he wasn't wrong to worry. Only James keeps me tethered to this world, as I have almost no fear of death anymore... I've sinned so much already that fearing Hell seems pointless. I'll end up there regardless, and I refuse to repent. God is unjust...

— Oh... James must be terrified even thinking about it, poor thing. Don't speak of death, Oli — it's not good... — Sweet Ann said softly, gently stroking my head with tenderness and care.

— Sorry... — I apologised, continuing to stroke James from his head to his back, trying to calm the flustered, frightened bird.

The table fell silent for a while, my words casting a sombre shadow. Wherever I went, I ruined things. What else could someone like me do?

— Let's not dwell on sadness... — Hio sighed heavily, rising from his chair and walking over to the piano. He lifted the lid, exposing the keys, and gently touched a few of them, a soft sound resonating through the room. Then, smoothing his hair, he sat on the black bench, placing his long fingers on the keys. — Allow me... I'll play something to lighten the mood.

— Oh, is it something from your teacher again? — Ruby teased, pouring herself another glass of wine.

— His music could never harm, nor be out of place... — Hio sighed, pulling a folder of sheet music from his bag. After flipping through it for a moment, he found a piece that caught his eye. — I think this one will do... this melody always makes me smile with its energy. The main thing is not to read the lyrics; Morta's lyrics tend to scramble my brain, ha-ha...

— Well, Lithuanians are like that... Her, and that Garijus of yours... — Ruby smirked, earning a sharp glare from Hio that warned her not to speak ill of, presumably, the nationality of his beloved teacher and some other girl. Ruby quickly fell silent.

Hio studied the sheet music for a few moments, as if recalling the melody, then set the sheets aside — it seemed he preferred to play from memory. Soon, his slender, nimble fingers began to glide across the keys, almost dancing. In that instant, an extraordinary melody filled the room. Fast-paced, slightly chaotic, full of surprises, the music soared and dipped like a force being continuously caught and whisked away through intricate twists and turns.

I could barely keep up with the motion of his fingers—they moved like lightning, leaping from one key to the next, shifting seamlessly between rhythms.

The sounds were so energetic it felt as though the music itself held an untamed thirst for life, its wild rhythm palpable. At times, it seemed the melody might spiral out of control, like a gust of wind, but Hio would pull it back effortlessly, as though holding it on an impossibly delicate thread. Occasionally, he pressed the pedals at the base of the piano, producing faint tapping sounds as his small heels lightly struck the floor.

I sat, unable to tear my gaze away, witnessing the pure embodiment of the phrase "to play from the soul". It was evident in every sound, every movement, every chord.

The music was mesmerising. I noticed how Hio's hands almost flew over the keys, as if they needed no pause or rest, every chord bending to his will. It was almost frightening — such speed, such confidence, such mastery over the melody. My heart raced at the sheer complexity of the rhythm. Only a true virtuoso could play like that: no note overlooked, even the briefest echoes imbued with feeling.

At one point, Hio smiled slightly, but his face remained calm and composed. It was as though this performance wasn't merely a way to lighten the mood but something deeply personal — a conversation with his teacher. It felt like Hio was expressing his gratitude to the one who had inspired him so profoundly, pouring his soul into every note to honour his mentor's talent in composing melodies. It was as if he feared showing his teacher as anything less than the grand figure he perceived him to be.

His playing carried an intimate reverence that made it impossible for me to look away.

When the melody abruptly ended and the final chord faded into the air, silence fell. Hio lifted his hands from the keys and looked at us with the same calm expression, as if those minutes of frenzied speed and rhythm hadn't even happened. Not a muscle on his face twitched, and his hands didn't tremble. I was stunned — his expression remained steady, composed, as though all that incredible energy had now dissipated, leaving only a faint smile on his lips.

He sat there as if it had been a routine practice session, his tranquillity making his brilliance even more awe-inspiring. He was a genius pianist...

— Magnificent, Hio, as always, as always! — Big Al grinned, leaning back in his chair and looking at Hio with admiration. — Well, since we're having a musical evening, how about Oliver joins in too? Sing us something, lad!

All eyes turned to me, and I felt their interest in my voice... Oh, it had been so long since I'd sung for anyone. I was nervous... Could I even do it? My lungs were weaker now...

— Mmm... — I hesitated, settling a now-calmed James on my shoulder. — How about... Carol of the Bells?

— Oh! — Ann exclaimed with delight. — That's Shchedryk! A song from my homeland!

— Oh... you... you're Ukrainian? — I asked, intrigued by her origin. I had noticed before that she had a slight accent — some letters, like "t" and "r," sounded very clear and sharp, while others were slightly drawn out. But I hadn't paid much attention to it until now...

— Half-Ukrainian! My mother is Ukrainian, and my father is Russian! — Ann replied with a smile. — I came here to England because Al was in Ukraine for a while, and we met, and he stole my heart. So, I left with him...!

— If she hadn't left, I would've stayed in Ukraine because, as it seems, we stole each other's hearts! — Al laughed, leaning toward his wife and planting a gentle kiss on her cheek. She let out a soft squeal at his romantic words and sweet gesture, then wrapped her arms tightly around him, pressing his head to her chest and smothering him with kisses on the crown of his head, — Whoa, whoa! Calm down, my dear Ann! Alright, alright! You should sing with Oliver! You taught this song to your choir kids, didn't you? Help the lad out!

— You're right! — Ann said, releasing Big Al and stepping away from the table.

She grabbed my hand and led me toward the fireplace and Christmas tree. We both sat down, and she continued to hold my hand — it was so soft and warm, even warmer than the air near the fire...

— Sweet Hio, weren't you one of my choir kids too? Won't you sing along with your lovely voice? — Ann asked, addressing her son. He paused for a moment, then turned back to the piano, as if to say, "I won't sing, but I'll play along," and placed his fingers on the keys again.

He hesitated, seemingly recalling the song.

— The song we prepared with the children for last year's Christmas performance! Remember, your teacher played the melody then!

— Yes... I remember... — Hio said with a nod. — So I'll play at the same tempo as he did back then...

Hio closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if searching for the first notes. Soon, his fingers began moving over the keys, weaving a light, flowing melody that quickly swelled with intensity. It was so familiar to me. A wave of nervousness swept over me — how long had it been since I sang for anyone? I gripped Ann's hand, feeling my palms tremble slightly from anxiety, but her hand remained steady and warm, as though passing her calmness onto me.

The melody became more rhythmic, and sensing the moment, I took a deeper breath and allowed myself to start singing. My voice, fragile and high-pitched, slightly reminiscent of a young girl's, surprisingly blended well with the music. I felt the softness and the restless rhythm of the approaching Christmas in the melody, as if every note and chord carried with it the festive spirit.

Ann joined in, squeezing my hand a little tighter. Her voice wasn't just warm from the fireplace; it radiated warmth from within her. Gentle and soothing, it wrapped around our song, bringing harmony and tranquillity to our performance. Listening to her pure tone, I momentarily lost myself, feeling enveloped by the cosy atmosphere of the evening.

Even James, perched on my knee, joined in with soft chirps in time with the music, lending his small voice to support us. Al and Ruby watched us with genuine interest, captivated by the little scene by the fireplace. My shyness and fear almost melted away, replaced by this strange, long-awaited warmth that felt both familiar and new.

But suddenly, my breath faltered. My voice broke off mid-note, stumbling over itself. I tried to recover, but instead of singing, a sharp cough escaped me, cutting through the room like a crack of thunder. Clutching my chest, I felt the dry weight drag down my throat, my breathing becoming ragged and strained.

Ann immediately stopped singing, turning to me with concern and holding my hand more firmly. Hio's fingers froze on the keys, halting the melody.

— A-are you ill, Oli? A cold? — Ann asked worriedly, running her hand gently over my cheek, her touch soothing.

— N-no, no! Not at all! — I stammered, only to break into another fit of coughing. — It's just... I sweep chimneys... my lungs aren't what they used to be. I'm sorry... sorry for ruining everything...

A single tear slid down my cheek, and I quickly pressed the sleeve of my borrowed coat to it, wiping it away. How frustrating... Once again, I ruined everything, unable to do anything right. I just wanted to sing well again, like I used to... I didn't need a bad teacher or a good one — I just wanted to sing again.

— Hey, hey, don't cry! — Ruby exclaimed, standing up from the table and approaching us. — What's this? No one's angry. It happens, what can you do!

— I can't sing any-anymore! — I wailed, overwhelmed with an unbearable sense of injustice, covering my eyes with my free hand and curling up, as if I didn't want anyone to touch me. Yet deep down, I didn't want to be alone right now.

— Now, now, don't say such things, little one... you sing beautifully; it's just your lungs that need a bit of care! More fresh air, some breathing exercises — that's all! — Ann said, leaning down and wrapping her arms around me, pulling me close to her warm chest, her heartbeat tenderly thumping, as though she was deeply worried about me and my feelings.

Shame swept over me again... crying once more, like a little girl! I didn't want to be so weak, to weep over every unfortunate moment in life, but I couldn't help it... I was so tired. I was losing everything I loved, slowly but surely. Soon, I'd be left with nothing and no one...

Suddenly, James hopped over to my bag, tipped it over, and pulled out a soft plush toy. Dragging it over to me, he placed it by my knees and started nudging me with it, urging me to take it. It was PoppyCat — James's favourite toy. I always brought it along so he could snuggle with it in the bag. The three of us — James, PoppyCat, and I — always slept together, while the other plush toys simply lay nearby. James always insisted I hug PoppyCat whenever I felt sad.

Now, James chirped insistently at me, urging me to take the toy. I finally relented, not wanting to upset my little bird.

I pulled away from Ann slightly and took PoppyCat in my hands, hugging it tightly to my chest, even resting my chin against it. Ann embraced me again, gently stroking my hair from the roots to the soot-streaked ends, likely dirtying her hands in the process.

— Don't cry, Oli... — Al said softly, crouching in front of me. He understood how vulnerable I was at that moment and chose a gentler tone than usual. — You mentioned you wouldn't be working as a chimney sweep for much longer... Once you stop, your lungs will recover!

— Mum will take you into her choir, so don't cry... — Hio chimed in, sitting beside me, close to my back.

— Oh! Yes, of course, I will! Have you heard that voice? Oli is like a little angel — the perfect choir boy! — Ann exclaimed, trying to lift my spirits. — Oli, sweetheart, would you like to sing in my choir?

— I do! — I exclaimed, my eyes shining with both tears and excitement. — Y-yes, I want to sing in the choir! I really do!

— Well then, wonderful! No more crying! — Ruby laughed, patting me on the shoulder. — Everything's alright! You've eaten, warmed up, and soon you'll be singing in the choir again. Enough hugging — don't steal my mum away!

Her words made me smile, and I finally let go of Ann, wiping my tears on the back of PoppyCat. James perched on the toy's head, leaning his little forehead against mine, nuzzling me and chirping softly, as if telling me to calm down.

— You're so emotional because you haven't had sweets in ages! — Sweet Ann exclaimed, standing up. — Let's try the dessert! And we'll see who the lucky one is tonight. I think the cupcakes should be ready by now!

Ann leaned down, gently kissed the top of my head, and then headed to the kitchen, leaving us to wait in quiet anticipation. While we waited for her return, Hio handed me a couple of napkins, subtly suggesting I tidy myself up. Grateful, I accepted them, realising I probably looked awful with tear-streaked cheeks and a runny nose.

Before long, Ann returned, carrying a tray adorned with four cupcakes, each perfectly placed and looking delightful. However, instead of setting them on the table, she brought the tray over to where we were seated by the fireplace and placed it on the floor near me. It seemed she thought that since we were already sitting on the floor, there was no need to move to the table.

James, spotting the cupcakes so close, immediately attempted to peck at one, but I quickly scooped him up, not letting him get anywhere near. What an uncultured little fellow! He really needed to learn some manners.

— So... there are five of us, which means someone will have to share! Oli, you can have a whole one! — Ann said with a warm smile, pushing the tray toward me, as though urging me to take the first treat.

— Oh, no, no, I couldn't... — I stammered, shaking my head, embarrassed by her generosity. — I'm already... I've already eaten enough. Half is more than enough for me...

— In that case, I'll share mine with Oli... — Hio said softly, putting an arm around my shoulder and picking up a cupcake from the tray.

— Alright, Oliver, we have a tradition... — Al began, leaning back slightly in his seat. — In one of these cupcakes, there's a couple of lingonberries — tart and a little bitter. Whoever finds them gets to ask any wish of the rest of the family! Well, not just anyone's — you can ask something of a specific person and then request something from others that supports that wish. And no one, not even Ann, knows which cupcake has the berries. We mix up the filled cases before baking so it's always a surprise! Hio's our luckiest one, so if you share with him, your wish might just come true!

— Oh no, it's my turn! — Ann protested indignantly, taking a bite of her cupcake. — Nine years without getting it — it's my turn this time!

— Good luck with that... — Hio smirked, carefully splitting his cupcake in half. — Looks like you might actually have a chance this time because there's no red in ours. Sorry, Oli.

He handed me half of the cupcake. I broke off a small piece and gave it to James before tasting the rest. The dessert, still warm but not overly sweet, was delicious. I wasn't disappointed in the least that it didn't contain the berries. This family had already given me so much that it felt wrong to wish for anything more. Besides, what could I wish for, apart from being able to visit them again? But even that seemed too bold to ask.

— Ah, nothing! — Ruby grumbled, finishing half of her cupcake. — Why is it never me?

— Don't fuss, dear... You got lucky two years ago, not that long ago... — Al chuckled, pointing a finger at her, which made her pout and turn away. — Ah, children, children! You're still so young, Ruby... You should...

— I've got it! — Ann exclaimed suddenly, raising her hand with the cupcake, inside which small red spots were clearly visible. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and her smile grew even more radiant. — Finally, finally!

She pulled me into a tight hug, rocking me side to side in her excitement. After nine long years, she could finally make a wish.

— Oh no... — Al muttered under his breath, his expression uneasy as he bit his lip and averted his gaze.

— "Oh no"? Aren't you happy for me? — Ann asked sharply, taking another bite of her cupcake. — Don't be jealous, dear! I grant your wishes all the time...!

— As I do yours... but knowing you and your character, I suspect your wish is about to cross the line of reason this time... — Big Al retorted, still eyeing her with scepticism.

— Oh, Mum's always a mystery; it's hard to predict with her! — Ruby laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

— No, it's obvious... — Al replied, shooting me a pointed, almost accusatory look. I shrank back slightly, unsure of what I'd done to deserve his ire.

— It's not obvious at all! — Ann argued, scooting closer to her husband and wrapping her arms around his neck. She looked into his eyes with a teasing, almost seductive gaze that made me blush — she was far too playful with him.

— No, Ann... we're not doing this...

— Now, now, you haven't even heard my wish, darling! — she interrupted, tracing a finger along his jawline. But Al didn't let her finish, cutting her off with a firm and loud declaration:

— We're not letting Oliver live in our house!

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Had I heard him correctly? He spoke so decisively, as though the matter was already settled. It was as if there wasn't even a shred of doubt in his mind that letting me stay was an absurd whim, unworthy of serious consideration. But... but Ann hadn't even made the request yet, had she?

I couldn't tear my eyes away from Ann, who had frozen, holding her breath after her husband's abrupt refusal. It was impossible to imagine anyone seriously thinking that I, Oliver, a poor orphan, could "become part of this family." Surely Ann, as kind and naive as she was, couldn't truly entertain such an idea? She was a grown woman with two adult children. People like her didn't just decide to take in someone they'd only known for a couple of hours. She couldn't have thought of such a thing, could she? Then why had Al dismissed the idea so preemptively, as if it had been on everyone's minds all along?

James suddenly perched on my shoulder, gently pecking my cheek, as if sensing that I'd become detached from reality and needed a nudge to check if this was all a dream. But the sting of his beak didn't wake me... This wasn't a dream?

"Maybe... maybe Al just misunderstood her intention..." — I thought, glancing back at Ann. I searched her face, hoping to find some hint that this was all just a misunderstanding or a joke. But then Ann covered her face with her hands and began to sob bitterly, pulling away from her husband as though she couldn't bear to be near such a "betrayer."

Tears streamed down her cheeks without pause. She sobbed heavily, as if someone had taken away her own child, repeating over and over "But why, Al... why?"

Her voice was almost like that of a crying child, heartbroken and deeply wounded. Hio and Ruby rushed to her side, wrapping their arms around her and trying to comfort her, but Ann couldn't stop her tears, mumbling everything she could through her sobs.

— How could you... — she said quietly, looking at her husband through the stream of tears. — It's so un-unfair! You don't love me at all. W-why would you do this to me?! This is my first wish in nine years, and you won't grant it!

Al looked shaken, the decisive tone he'd carried moments earlier completely gone. He lowered his head, gazing at Ann with deep regret, as though he couldn't forgive himself for causing her such tears.

— Mum, mum, come on, please... — Hio tried to comfort Ann, gently rubbing her back. — This is silly, really! — He cast a sorrowful glance at me, as if silently asking me not to take offense. — We've only just met him, and now you're dragging him into the house permanently! What's next, calling him your son? Honestly!

— But Oli is so sweet, such a poor little baby! Please, we have the means, Al, please...! Oli wouldn't be a bother! He's polite, such a kind boy! Please, please! — Ann continued to sob, and I saw it clearly now — she wasn't the head of the family; she was pleading with her husband as though she had no authority of her own. — Such a talented child, and yet he's climbing chimneys and starving! It's not right, it's just not right!

— Ann, darling, I'm sorry, but really, stop it. We can't take him in. He's not a stray kitten; he's nearly a teenager, and we don't even know him! — Big Al tried to reason with her, but Ann only cried harder.

Ruby watched her mother with an almost ravenous concern. It had always been clear that Ruby reacted strongly to her mother's tears, but now she looked close to tears herself, seeing Ann so distraught.

— Well... — Ruby glanced at me, still sitting in shock, watching the scene with wide, bewildered eyes. — Maybe, really, Dad. Maybe he wouldn't be a bother... Mum loves children, it would make her happy! What's the big deal? You're busy most of the time anyway, and Oli won't ask for much! We've got a spare bedroom — why the resistance? It's not fair, she's waited nine years to make a wish, and now this... What's the point of this whole wish tradition if we won't honour it?

— Oh, Ruby, I wished for a brother, and that never came true, so this tradition broke when I was five...! — Hio argued, trying to align with his father, but Ruby, quick and sharp in debates, retorted swiftly:

— And what's wrong with Oli as a little brother? He's five years younger — perfect! It'd mend the "broken tradition" and prevent any further mishaps!

— I don't think he'll ever truly be part of the family, so he wouldn't be a brother... — Hio said, holding his ground.

— Why wouldn't he? — Ann snapped, her voice indignant. — It's all in how you perceive him! You see your teacher as family, so why argue here?

— I just...

— You just don't want to understand me, that's all! — Ann cried out, bursting into tears again and leaning into Ruby's embrace, finding solace in the only person who fully supported her.

— Mum, I... I... — Hio stammered, but after glancing at me, he sighed deeply. He turned to his father with a pleading expression, clasping his hands together. — Dad, please, let's let Oli stay...!

— Dad, we're begging you! — Ruby joined in, wrapping her arms around her bewildered father.

— Please, please, my sweet Al! — Ann sobbed, pressing herself against Al as well.

The man, clearly overwhelmed by the chorus of pleas from his entire family, looked at me with wide, conflicted eyes, as if weighing his options. I still couldn't believe this was truly happening. It was strange, surreal. There were countless children like me — nothing special about me at all. Why would these people, all of them, fight for me to stay? Clearly, it was Ann's wish most of all, but if the others were truly opposed, they would have sided with Al without hesitation.

— Why is it always like this with us...? — Al muttered helplessly, trying to push Ann and Ruby away. — Honestly, this is absurd...

— It's not absurd, not at all! I can make it more absurd if you want! Please, Al...! — Ann continued to plead, even as he tried to distance himself.

— Good Lord... — Al sighed heavily, leaning toward Ann and kissing her forehead. — Fine... fine...

Ann froze for a moment, as though she couldn't believe what she'd just heard. But a second later, her face lit up with such genuine joy that it felt like the entire room warmed from her radiance. She sprang to her feet, her eyes glistening with tears — this time of happiness.

— Really?! You really agree, Al?! — she exclaimed, looking at her husband. He nodded, sighing heavily again, as though agreeing to something he still couldn't fully accept. Ann clapped her hands with delight, squealed with joy, and rushed toward me.

I was stunned, unable to process what had just happened. Before I could react, Ann scooped me up into a tight hug, lifting me off the floor and holding me so close that I could feel the warmth of her embrace enveloping me completely. I couldn't move, my breath hitching — not from fear or cold, but from sheer disbelief.

— My sweet boy! Oli, you can't imagine how happy I am! — Ann said, her words rushing out so fast and with such excitement that it made my head spin. — I promise, you'll never have another cold night again! You'll always be fed, warm, and happy! James will live a long, happy life too, I promise, I promise! We'll take care of you, make sure you're a happy child!

She swayed me gently from side to side, as though I were a little child, pressing her warm cheek against mine. I couldn't say anything — everything felt unreal. My gaze darted around the room, landing on each family member in turn.

Ruby smiled with such tenderness and relief, as if she herself had just received the greatest gift of her life. Hio looked bewildered, sitting on the floor, staring at Ann and me in deep thought. It seemed he had only now realised he'd supported his mother's wish and wasn't sure how to feel about it. Al had turned away, seemingly unsure of how to face me, but there was a faint, barely perceptible smile on his lips.

And then, as if finally understanding that this was truly happening, I began to cry. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, my voice faltered, and a strange, hoarse murmur escaped my chest. I clung tightly to Ann, gripping her shoulders as though terrified that this moment might vanish.

— Th-thank you... — I murmured, though the words were drowned in my sobs. I couldn't speak properly; I was scared, overwhelmed, and utterly confused, but I felt so warm and comforted.

James, still perched on my shoulder, noticed my tears and quickly wrapped his tiny wings around me, pressing his warm little head against my cheek.

— Hey, sweetheart, don't cry, don't cry! Everything will be alright now; everything's going to be okay! — Ann said gently, stroking my head and wiping the tears from my cheeks with her fingers, though I couldn't stop crying.

This moment — this kind, warm moment — felt so unreal that I feared I would wake up any second, lying cold in the snow. But Ann's warm arms, James's tender touches, the support of these people around me — it all felt so real.

Ruby, clearly moved, stepped closer and wrapped her arms around both Ann and me, leaning in with a smile.

— Well, look at that. Now you're part of our family, little brother, ha-ha! Just don't cry, or Mum will keep crying too, and then I'll end up crying!

Hio stood silently from the floor and walked over to us. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on my shoulder, then, as if unable to hold back, joined the embrace as well.

Sweet Ann, Ruby, and Hio wrapped themselves around me in a warm, genuine group hug. As I tried to process the overwhelming flood of emotions, I felt Al approach. He sighed heavily, then gently tousled both Ann's hair and mine.

— Well, Oli... — he muttered with a faint smile, though his eyes betrayed a trace of weariness. — Welcome to the Rose family home. Looks like it's your home now too.

— Rose family and Oliver's house! — Ruby teased, patting her father on the shoulder with playful sympathy.

I couldn't find any words. Nothing I could say would be enough to express the depth of my gratitude. Instead, I stayed nestled in their embrace, holding tight to Ann, James, and my toy, leaning softly into these people who, somehow, I could now call my family. I would never forget my real mother, but being alone wasn't something I wanted anymore. I felt certain she would rest more peacefully knowing I was in the care of kind people.

The atmosphere lightened, and soon the family began chatting casually about me, their plans, and everything else. I remained silent, unable to find the words or the energy to join in. They were already discussing sending me to school, which I didn't mind. I didn't love studying, but I didn't want to stay ignorant either. Missing school for a year and a half had left me behind, and I'd lost enough already.

Sitting by the fireplace, on Ann's lap and wrapped in her gentle embrace, I felt warm — finally, truly warm. James, however, seemed unconvinced by the reality of the moment. He kept poking me, as if testing to see if we were dreaming. Perhaps he should poke himself instead — if anyone needed convincing, it was him. James probably thought he needed schooling too, though for a bird, he was remarkably clever.

— He's going to keep poking you until your head starts pounding... — Ruby laughed from the dining table, where she was wiping it clean with a damp cloth before drying it with another. The Christmas dinner was officially over.

— He's just a silly thing... — I replied, wiping the last traces of tears from my flushed face. — Maybe he'll realize it's not a dream when he falls asleep and wakes up, haha!

— Oh, he'll be going to sleep soon enough! — Ann called cheerfully as she returned from upstairs. — I never cleared out Hio's old pyjamas — I didn't want to give them away, like underwear — so I found a set from eight years ago! They're roomy, Oli, so they should fit you perfectly!

She approached me and handed me the pyjamas: white, tidy, and elegant. I held them close, unsure if I should change immediately or where I was even supposed to go to do so.

— Sleep soon, yes, but first we need to hand out gifts to our dear children! — Al announced warmly, holding two square-shaped presents wrapped in pale yellow patterned paper. He glanced at me apologetically. — We didn't know you'd be joining us, Oliver, so we'll get you something later. Don't feel bad!

— Oh, no, really, there's no need! You've already done so much...! — I said quickly, petting James to keep him calm. — I don't need any more gifts.

— Gifts?! — Ruby exclaimed excitedly, stepping out of the kitchen, her cleaning done. She immediately spotted the present in Al's hand with her name written on it and eagerly grabbed it, her eyes sparkling. — Oh, yes, yes! Is it makeup? Perfume?!

— Always the same with you... — Hio chuckled as he accepted his own gift from their father, bowing slightly in thanks to both parents.

Ruby didn't wait a second longer. She plopped onto the floor not far from me and tore the wrapping paper off with her teeth, revealing a beautiful wooden box. Her face lit up with childlike joy as she opened it to find an elegant, gorgeous accessory inside: a bowtie-like piece of fabric in a soft pink matching Ruby's hair. At its center was a sparkling, perfectly cut green gemstone, reflecting the warm glow of the fireplace.

— It matches her hair, her eyes! — Ruby exclaimed, clutching the accessory to her chest. — Oh, my love...

Everyone seemed delighted by her reaction, and Ruby was clearly overjoyed to receive such a thoughtful gift. Without hesitation, she untied the plain pink bow she'd worn all evening and replaced it with the new accessory, adjusting it around the collar of her shirt. Then, in an exaggerated display of delight, she collapsed onto the floor, rolling around in ecstatic happiness. It was a funny sight, but it was clear how deeply she loved the piece, clearly chosen to match someone very dear to her.

Hio's turn came next. He carefully unwrapped his gift, as if afraid of tearing the paper, treating it with a level of care that made me think the family couldn't afford replacements. His fingers trembled slightly, but there was a quiet happiness in his eyes. Finally, he uncovered a slightly larger wooden box than Ruby's, this one glossy from a clear lacquer finish. I noticed a silver key protruding from one side and realised it was a music box.

— This gift, like Ruby's, was custom-made. Her beloved Gumi helped with hers, and yours, Hio, was inspired by your dear Maika and your revered teacher! — Ann explained joyfully, sitting beside me and gently hugging me, as if to remind me not to feel left out for not having a gift.

— These gems... spinel, aren't they? Just like her eyes... — Hio murmured thoughtfully, a soft smile on his face. Indeed, small precious stones adorned the corners of the lid, and intricate patterns covered its surface.

At the center of the lid, I noticed an engraved rose and its petals—the same motif I'd seen on the family's fireplace and silverware. It seemed to be their family crest. The roses intertwined with other delicate patterns that resembled clouds, steam, or mist. Near the lock, there was a faint piano key design, thin and subtle. Hio traced the patterns and stones with his fingers as if they connected him to his beloved mentor and Maika.

He opened the music box, revealing its soft velvet-lined interior, a simple mechanism, and a few compartments for storing small items. With delicate fingers, he turned the key, and a gentle melody filled the room.

I didn't recognise the tune, but it lit up Hio's face. His gaze deepened, and his eyes glimmered as though the melody spoke to him in a language only he could understand. It must have been one of his teacher's compositions — a piece that clearly held great significance for him.

Hio listened silently, his hands resting on the box, as if afraid to interrupt the music. When the last notes faded, he whispered softly, as though speaking to the box itself:

— Thank you...

He closed the lid and pressed the box to his chest as though fearing it might vanish.

— Such a beautiful melody... Is it your teacher's music? — I asked, glancing at Hio's glowing expression.

— Yes, it's his... — Hio replied with a smile. — We created it together. It's more of a song; it has lyrics. But I don't sing anymore — my voice doesn't fit. You, Oliver, you'll sing it one day. It suits you. I'll introduce you to my teacher — he'll adore your voice. So you'll have to sing it, ha-ha.

— Oh... I'd never refuse to sing! — I replied with a smile, and Hio ruffled my hair gently.

— Ha-ha, looks like that melody put James to sleep! — Ruby giggled, pointing to James, who was indeed fast asleep in my hands. — Proof that all the little ones need to go to bed now!

I felt the truth of her words creeping over me. My eyelids grew heavy, my body limp, and the warm, light-filled room began to feel like a cosy cradle. At that moment, Ann stood and approached me with a broad smile.

— Well, my sweet boy, Ruby's right — it's time to head to bed... — she said, reaching out to take my hand. Without waiting for my agreement, she gently pulled me to my feet. — You must be exhausted, and we've got so much to do tomorrow! We need to get you some clothes, clean you up, and introduce Hio's cat to James!

I was surprised to hear about a cat and wanted to ask a few questions — cats, after all, hunt birds — but Ann didn't give me time to dwell on it. She led me down the hallway and soon opened the door to the same room where I had changed earlier. It was just as I remembered: cosy, bright, with a neatly made bed, nightstands, and a small wardrobe in the corner.

— This is your room now! — Ann said with a smile. — It was only ever used for guests, but I always wash the bedding afterward, so don't worry — it's clean! Now, get changed!

She smiled, lightly patted my cheek, and left, closing the door behind her.

I looked around the room. It felt too good, too clean, too warm — too much like something I didn't deserve. Could this really be my new home? It was hard to believe, especially after the cold, grey cellar I had called home for so long. Could I truly never have to go back there? I couldn't convince myself it was real. But James, drowsing peacefully in my hands, reminded me with his gentle warmth that this was indeed reality, no matter how impossible it seemed.

I carefully placed James on one of the pillows on the bed. He immediately nestled in, curled into a tiny ball, and even let out a soft chirp, as though approving of the space. Beside him, I placed his favourite toy, PoppyCat, to make him more comfortable.

Then I began to undress, handling each piece of clothing delicately, as if it might fall apart in my hands. It was, after all, Hio's childhood attire. Once I had removed it, I folded it neatly on the bed and slipped into the pyjamas Ann had given me.

The white, flowing pyjama-dress was unlike anything I'd ever worn. It felt strange, so different from my old clothes, but it was soft and warm. I glanced at myself in the mirror that stood against the wall. The reflection was... unfamiliar. The outfit reminded me faintly of Fukase. I wondered what he would say when he returned and I told him all about this. Maybe... maybe we could become even closer. I wanted that — I truly did.

When I was done, I stepped out of the room, and Ann immediately approached me with a delighted smile.

— Oli, you look absolutely adorable! — she exclaimed, clapping her hands. Then, turning to her husband and daughter, she added. — Isn't he precious?

— Yes, absolutely precious! Sweet Oli! — Ruby chimed in, gently patting her mother's shoulder.

— Um... thank you, but honestly, I've never worn anything like this before... — I admitted, feeling a bit awkward. The hem of the pyjamas occasionally caught under my feet, though it wasn't excessively long. — I used to have a different pyjama set when I lived with my mum. This just feels... unusual.

— You'll get used to it! — Al said with a chuckle as he stepped closer. — What matters is that you're warm and comfortable.

While we talked, Ann had already managed to take my evening clothes and hang them carefully in the wardrobe... in my wardrobe. My heart swelled with warmth at her kindness — it was almost too much. She was so much like my mum: caring, gentle, and loving. I wanted to be close to her, to stay by her side. For a moment, I even wanted to call her "Mum", though I knew it would be inappropriate — we had only just met.

A moment later, Sweet Ann gathered up my old clothes from where they had been left in the corner. Seeing this, my heart hesitated, but I softly asked:

— Ann... please don't throw them away. I feel like I... I might wear them again someday.

Ann looked at me, surprised, but Ruby spoke up in agreement:

— Oh yes, the clothes aren't bad! Maybe we could patch them up?

But Ann gently shook her head.

— Let's decide that tomorrow, — she said, placing the old clothes on a table in the hallway. — For now, Oliver, it's time for you to go to bed. And the rest of you should say goodnight to our new family member!

That strange, bittersweet feeling returned. Everything was happening so fast that it was hard to believe it was real. But it was so warm, so good, that I decided to let myself believe.

Al approached me, resting a hand on my shoulder. Sensing my confusion, he gently guided me back into the room.

— Come on, lad, I'll help you settle in... — he said. Obediently, I followed him as he pulled back the blanket, motioning for me to lie down. The bed was incredibly soft and warm — far beyond anything I'd ever imagined. Carefully, Al tucked the blanket over me from my feet to my shoulders, being mindful not to disturb James.

— Hey, Oli... — Al spoke again, his voice now soft and caring, free of its earlier harshness. — Sorry if I was a bit rough earlier. Bringing a stranger into the house — it's a lot to take in, you know?

— Oh, no, no, there's no need to apologise... it is strange. I probably wouldn't have accepted someone like me if I were in your place... — I replied, smiling faintly. — Thank you... I promise I won't be any trouble!

— Ha-ha, alright, alright! — Al said with a laugh, leaning down to hug me gently. — Goodnight, kiddo.

I nodded at his words, wishing him goodnight in return. He stood, ruffled my hair, and left the room, just as Ruby came bounding in with her typical mischievous grin.

— Tomorrow I'm giving you a haircut! — she declared with mock malice, grabbing the ends of my hair. — I always cut Hio's hair when we were kids — that's how he got his signature style, with the strand on one shoulder! I'll make you look like a proper little brother, ha-ha!

I didn't know how to respond, staring at her wide-eyed and already imagining myself bald. Ruby simply smirked, then hugged me so tightly I forgot how to breathe for a moment.

— Goodnight, little bro! I'll love you... and sometimes tickle you, and maybe slap you around a bit, too! — she laughed, looking at me with gleeful affection. — Alright, see ya!

She bounced away from the bed and darted out of the room, leaving me with Sweet Ann. Ann chuckled softly at her daughter's antics, then leaned down to stroke my hair tenderly, as if saying goodbye. I grabbed her hand, not wanting her to leave. I couldn't explain why, but I felt an unshakable fear that I wouldn't have another moment like this with her.

— Ann... c-could you stay with me a little longer? — I asked, holding her hand in mine.

She gave me a warm, understanding smile and blushed slightly before sitting on the edge of the bed.

— It's alright, sweetheart. Don't be afraid... go to sleep... — she said, gently rubbing my shoulder.

At that moment, Hio appeared in the doorway, silently observing us. Ann noticed him right away.

— Hio... say goodnight, give Oli a hug! — she encouraged.

Hio crossed his arms and shook his head.

— I don't want to... — he replied firmly. Ann gave him a pleading look, but he remained unmoved. — No, Mum... I'd rather play something instead.

— Oh, play that melody from the music box! I'd love to hear the original! — I suggested, not minding his aloofness. It was clear that warming up to me would take time, though I appreciated his efforts to be kind.

Hio nodded at my request, murmured a soft "Sweet dreams", and left, leaving the door slightly ajar.

— Goodnight, Oliver... — Ann said, smiling at me as Hio got ready to play. — Sleep well... don't leave us, okay? It's good here. Stay with us...

James let out a small chirp but quickly fell silent. Ann gently stroked his head to calm him, and the bird stirred, then nestled closer to my chest, as if wanting to hear the beat of my heart.

The music began. At first, it was soft, like a timid whisper. The notes filled the room with a delicate, almost ethereal melody. It was the same tune from the music box, but on the piano, it felt grander, deeper, and warmer.

Each chord seemed alive, like a tender voice sharing something deeply personal. The music was filled with love and care — no surprise, considering it was a melody Hio had composed with his teacher.

As the lullaby cradled me, I felt my eyelids grow heavier, my heart swelling with a sense of belonging I hadn't felt in a very long time.

Ann still sat beside me, her hand resting gently on my shoulder. She quietly stroked me, and I could feel her warmth through the fabric of my pyjamas. That warmth blended with the music, wrapping around me from all sides like a soft blanket. James, nestled against my chest, shifted slightly, as if the melody was lulling him even more than it did me.

The music was slow but not sad. It carried so much tenderness, so much hope, that I didn't even notice how my eyelids began to grow heavy. I fought to keep them open, wanting to prolong this evening, but the warmth and the music were too comforting, too inviting.

I felt my thoughts begin to scatter. Tomorrow... what would tomorrow bring? For the first time in a long while, I thought of the future with a flicker of hope, a kind of excited anticipation. How badly I wanted to stay here, in this home, with these people... I wanted to become a part of their family. This had been the best day of my life, and I didn't want it to end.

But the music continued to play, and my thoughts blurred, drifting further and further away. The sound of the piano became muffled, as if it were coming from far away. Even as my eyes finally closed, I could still hear it, faintly. A soft smile touched my lips as I sank into the warm, gentle void.

The music followed me into sleep, like a soft, loving voice. I felt warmth... comfort... love. But then, amidst the warmth, something strange crept in. The tips of my fingers and toes began to grow cold. I tried to move my hand, but I couldn't command my body. The music faded further, as if retreating into the distance, and in its place, I heard... James. His chirping.

— Close... the window... — I murmured weakly, pleading for the cold in my limbs to disappear. — Mum... Mother Ann...

My nose was already frozen, as were my lips and ears. Why was I suffering even here? Everything had been so perfect. Maybe the room had gotten stuffy, and they had decided to let some fresh air in? But I didn't want it — I was cold.

Suddenly, a faint light flickered before my eyes. I couldn't see the source, but through my closed eyelids, I perceived its warmth and glow. What was it? I didn't know, but I wanted to find out. With a deep breath, I forced my eyes open and saw a tiny flame in front of me — warm and golden. A match... it was the flame of a match. And the match was held in James's beak as he looked at me with fear and... hope.

— J-James... — I whispered, staring at him through tear-filled eyes. My tears stung from the cold. — Why did you light a match, James? You can't light matches in the house — it's dangerous...

James looked at me with confusion and shock, still holding the match in his beak. His small, round eyes were wide, as though he didn't understand what I was talking about. What house was I talking about if right now I was outside, next to that beautiful house, and lying in the cold snow, freezing?

James chirped something and then dropped the match into the snow, snuggling under my head and trying to lift it with his tiny body. He continued chirping and chirping, as though crying with joy that I had opened my eyes, that I had woken up, that I hadn't died in my beautiful dream.

— No... no, no... — I whimpered, refusing to believe that everything that had happened that evening wasn't real, that it had all been my imagination. Disappointment... deep disappointment hit me. — Ann... Ann, please, take me home... Ann...

I began to cry, tears streaming down my face. No, I wanted to live there, with the Rose family. I begged God that lying here in the snow was just another dream, but it wasn't. This was reality — cold, cruel, dead reality. At least, that's what it felt like now. That beautiful dream had broken me. This was the end...

— James... — I whispered, still not rising from the ground, ignoring my little bird's desperate attempts to stir me. — W-why did you wake me, James? — James froze at my words, staring at me with a kind of despair, begging me not to say what I was about to say. — I'd rather have died. I'd rather have died there, with them!

James's small body stiffened at my words. His tiny eyes widened, and the feathers on his head rose slightly in shock. He stared at me as if he couldn't believe what he had heard, as if he were praying I would take my words back. But I didn't. James slowly turned away, as though unable to bear looking at me any longer. Lowering his head, he approached a small pile of soot-like ash nearby, as if something had been burned there. He pressed his body against it, seeking warmth or comfort, and that's when I heard him. James was crying.

His soft, plaintive sounds pierced straight through me. I tried to cover my ears, close my eyes, but I couldn't. His pain was my pain. I had done this to him. I was supposed to protect him, to be his friend and family. And now I sat here, cold and pathetic, watching as he, my only friend, crumbled because of me. His tiny body trembled, his wings tucked close to the ground as if trying to shield himself from the world. This wasn't just a sound — it was a cry from his soul. He was afraid. Afraid of being alone. Afraid of losing me. James was more than just a bird to me — he was my family, my lifeline. And now he had heard me wish to die, to leave him behind and slip into eternal sleep. It was killing him, and I could see it.

Guilt crashed over me like a tidal wave, heavy and suffocating. How could I? How could I do this to him? James didn't deserve this. He had saved me, woken me up so I wouldn't freeze in the snow. And I had hurt him. I had caused him pain.

— James... — I whispered, but the little bird only curled up tighter against the soot. His small body shook with sobs, and I could hear his quiet, almost human-like cries. He didn't want to look at me. He couldn't.

I forced myself to move. Every motion was agonising. My hands trembled, my legs felt nonexistent. The snow clung to my clothes, seeping through and leaving icy streaks on my skin. My lips were dry, my breathing ragged, but I couldn't stay there. I had to comfort James. Gently, as if he might disappear at the slightest touch, I scooped him up into my shaking hands.

— James, I'm sorry... — My voice cracked, and a lump formed in my throat. The bird tried to wriggle free, but I held him close to my chest so he could feel my warmth, hear my heartbeat. — Please forgive me... I... I didn't mean it. I said it... I said it out of pain. You didn't deserve that. You saved me... you always save me. I'll never leave you, James. Never.

James was still trembling, his tiny wings limp at his sides. His soft, plaintive cries persisted, but I kept speaking, trying to drown out the pain:

— You're my friend, my family. We'll survive together, I promise. It may not be like my dream, but we'll make it work. We'll live, James. I'll live for you.

I felt the trembling in his body begin to subside. He still chirped softly, but not as desperately as before. His wings tentatively wrapped around my fingers, and he pressed his warm little head against my cheek.

— Thank you, James... — I whispered, tears streaming down my face. — Thank you for being here. I won't leave you. I promise.

James continued to cry softly, but gradually he calmed down. He pressed himself closer to me, his tiny wings wrapping around me as if trying to shield us both from the world. I kept stroking him, whispering apologies, repeating over and over that I wouldn't leave him while he lived. Deep down, I knew this promise was the only thing keeping me tethered.

The world felt grey and lifeless, but James... James was my light, my only connection to life. He was my Candle Bird. It was for him alone that I could keep breathing, keep existing, even though this world was now a prison to me. In my dream, I had seen warmth, felt it — I was fed, clothed, welcomed. After such a vision, I would never again find hope or happiness in this world. It was just a cage now, one I would leave only together with James.

— Did you... did you burn PoppyCat to wake me up? — I asked in a quiet voice, glancing at the bag lying nearby and then at the pile of ash. James, my little hero, shook his head as if to say the toy didn't matter to him, though I knew it was his favourite thing in the world. His eyes, full of love and despair, met mine. He would sacrifice anything for me.

Once, I felt like he could light a small, comforting flame inside me, warming my heart. Now, I could only pretend he had reignited it. In truth, I forced myself not to give up. As long as James fought for me, I had no right to let go.

— It's okay... I'll sew you a new one. Don't cry... everything's alright. Let's go home.

Home... such a beautiful word. I wished I could be back in a home, in warmth, under a blanket. But my real home was wherever James was. The real James. Not the dream James. He was just an illusion, like everything about the Rose family's hospitality. Probably. I had watched that family before, especially Ann and Hio, so maybe they truly were kind, maybe they would have fed me — but they wouldn't have let me live with them.

Their family was so close-knit, so sweet, that I had often watched them during my free moments, hoping that their warmth and affection might fill the emptiness inside me. And it did, for a while. Much of what I saw in the dream was rooted in truth — I was sure of that. Even the jokes I didn't understand were drawn from real conversations between Ann and Ruby.

Ah, if only they had opened their door to me... though perhaps they had, but too late. Maybe by the time they noticed me, I was already lying in the snow, unseen from the doorway. But I didn't want to know the truth. No. It was easier to believe they never opened the door at all.

Shaking off my thoughts, I finally stood up, though I could barely feel my legs. I placed James on my shoulder and began collecting my belongings from the snow. I tucked the nearly empty box of matches into my pocket and stuffed my puppets back into my bag — they must have fallen out when I collapsed. Everything was covered in snow, still falling thickly from the sky. I wasn't buried under it, thanks to James, who must have been clearing it from me constantly.

Picking up my bag, I scanned the ground. There was nothing left but my cap, which I immediately put on.

"I'll wear this again someday..." — The words I had said to Ann in my dream echoed in my mind. And indeed, here I was, still wearing it. And I would wear it for a long time.

Sighing, I glanced at the window beneath which I had been lying all this time. Looking inside, I saw that the bed wasn't empty. Ruby was asleep there, her bright pink hair spilling across the pillow. This family didn't have a spare room. They had no space for me. The dream was just that — a dream. It was never meant to be real.

In the room, on the bedside table, a kerosene lamp burned low. Its flame seemed to me an unreachable beacon now. The house felt like a ship that had sailed away, leaving me stranded on the shore.

I stared at the window and the flame as if they were the last fragments of my happiness. How I wished I could see that wonderful family's faces again. Hear Ann call me to dinner. Feel Al's soft yet cautious gaze, even his initial mistrust now seemed warm. But it was just a dream. Nothing more. And I would never return to it, for I had to stay with James. If I died, he would starve himself. Better for him to live out his life and pass from old age, and then I could... I could end it for myself. That would be less painful.

— Goodbye... sister... — I murmured softly, not wanting James to hear, and then turned my back on the beautiful house, heading back down the street toward my cold cellar. — Goodnight, wonderful Rose family...

The lights in the windows of other houses were already out; everyone was asleep. It must have been 2 or 3 in the morning. I walked in the darkness and silence, broken only occasionally by the barking of stray dogs. They didn't bother me; they couldn't even see me. I walked in peace, lost in thought about the dream.

It made sense why even in the dream I couldn't believe they'd let me stay. There are so many children like me in this world. I'm nothing special. I thought I'd won some golden ticket, but no, it was just an illusion. I'm just like every other orphaned child — no future, no worth, no interest to anyone. Everyone believes they're special, but sadly, most of us are ordinary, undeserving of more than the rest. I'm just another child to whom fate was unkind, another child who will die unnoticed. That's my reality.

I can only wait for James's death — a thought I fear more than anything — and when that day comes, so will my end. James is my last glimmer of light, my candle, while I am the lost child in the dark.

It's a shame no one in our story will be a hero, no one will save anyone...

Chapter Text

Let's not break tradition!

As always, an extra chapter with character references is needed because it's fun, haha! This fanfic was big, complicated, sad and we died, we're glad you read something we worked so hard on and loved so much... 

Let's start with poor Oliver!

We forgot to add something to the reference, but we don't want to fix it now, so we'll write it here, because we think it's an important detail: “Believes in God but considers Him pathetic, unfair, and cruel”

Speaking of Fukase.... We think it would be interesting to write one little extra fanfic related to this one, in which we could reveal their relationship and show... something..... very sad... but we'll have to think about it, haha.

We need James' reference too, of course! He's the second main character!

Now it's time for Rose's family members!

The lighter text is things that were in the dream, but Oliver has no proof that they're real... We mean, he's heard hints, but no confirmation.

That's all! Thanks for reading, so far we haven't seen the reaction we were afraid of, so we're happy and relaxed, hope the ending broke you!

Goodbye!!