Not long after, they were back in Alaric's car, the engine humming softly as the view outside the windshield blurred with the passing night.
Alaric kept one hand on the steering wheel, while the other gently tapped the gear shift, following the rhythm of his thoughts as they churned. But in the midst of his contemplation, he still managed to glance at the boy. "Where's your house?" he asked.
Fery, sitting in the passenger seat, turned slightly. "It's not far from the campus," he replied.
Alaric smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Don't call me 'sir.' Just call me Alaric."
Fery fell silent for a moment before nodding. "Okay... Alaric," he said, his voice still a bit awkward. But somehow, saying the name felt different now—like he had just found a new way to refer to someone who was slowly becoming closer.
