"I don't remember you asking me to wake you," Ray said.
"I didn't," Rui mumbled.
"Exactly."
"I didn't even notice when you fell asleep," he added.
"But you should have! Because of you, I missed the ceremony!" she protested, her eyes beginning to fill with tears.
"Who said it's over?" Ray said, a faint laugh slipping through.
"It isn't?" she sniffed.
"How could it be? It hasn't even started yet," he said gently.
"But it'll begin once we head downstairs," said Grace, standing beside the bed with her arms folded.
Rui slipped off the bed and hurried over, wrapping her in a quick hug. "Sister! How long have you been there? I didn't even notice."
"Long before you two started talking," Grace replied, brushing a hand through Rui's hair.
"The guests have already arrived. We should go now," she added kindly.
They exchanged a glance, a quiet understanding passing between them, before turning to Grace with bright, almost identical smiles.
Grace frowned slightly. "What is it?"
"Close your eyes," they said in unison.
"Why—"
"Just close them!"
"Alright, fine!"
She let out a small sigh and closed her eyes.
Footsteps echoed through the room. Then came the sound of a wardrobe opening, fabric shifting, and something being placed on the table.
Curiosity got the better of her.
She cracked one eye open and stole a quick glance—
"Don't you even try!"
Ray's voice came sharp and immediate.
Grace quickly shut her eye again, pressing her lips together.
A moment later, the sounds stopped. Footsteps returned, closer this time.
Taking her hand, they led her to the bed and gently seated her on it.
"You can open them now."
Grace opened her eyes.
They stood before her, each holding a small chest—deep blue, trimmed in gold, shaped like an egg placed on a velvet cushion.
Set before her were two mysterious shapes, hidden beneath cloth coverings.
For a brief second, she simply stared.
"Happy birthday, sister."
Her breath caught.
(…Right. It's my birthday too.)
"I completely forgot…"
She reached out and took the chests from them, still a little dazed.
"Can I open them?" she asked.
"Yes," Rui said easily.
"Y-yeah," Ray added, far less certain.
Grace sat down on the bed and opened Rui's first, since she had offered it first.
Inside was a statue.
It was… her.
A carefully sculpted clay bust, detailed down to the shoulders. The features were delicate, almost lifelike, and atop its head rested a small crown—real, not molded.
For a moment, Grace just stared at it.
"You made this yourself?" she asked.
Rui nodded.
Grace smiled, though a hint of uncertainty flickered in her eyes.
(Did she really make this…?)
Her gaze lingered on the statue.
(It doesn't seem like it…)
She set it aside gently and opened Ray's.
Another statue.
Also her—but this one was… different. Slightly uneven, a bit exaggerated in places, decorated with too many ornaments that didn't quite match.
Grace paused.
She didn't need to ask this time.
One glance was enough to know who had made it.
Rui beamed with quiet pride beside her.
Ray, on the other hand, shifted awkwardly, his ears tinged red, clearly embarrassed.
.
.
.
They walked to the door, and as Grace opened it—
"Ahh" she yelped, startled as if she'd seen a ghost. Both children let out short gasps of surprise.
"Welfred! You scared the—" Grace stopped herself, glancing at the kids, then continued, "You scared us! Why were you standing at the door like that?"
"My apologies, Madam," Welfred said quickly. "I didn't mean to startle you. I came to escort you downstairs— everyone in the hall has been asking for you."
"I was about to knock, but you opened the door first."
The man looked to be middle-aged somewhere around his fifties, though his refined attire and neatly swept-back hair made him appear younger, perhaps in his forties. His face was pale, composed, and nearly devoid of expression.
He was wearing a sharply tailored black uniform, regal yet understated, adorned with fine silver chains that caught the light with a faint glimmer. A deep purple sash crossed his chest, fastened neatly at the shoulder where a metallic insignia rested. The coat fell in layered panels, the inner lining revealing the same rich hue as the sash.
A long cape of deep violet draped gracefully from his shoulder, its weight flowing naturally with the rest of his attire. High black boots, polished to a mirror shine, completed the ensemble, their height adding to his composed and elegant appearance.
Every element of his attire seemed chosen with care, balanced between refinement and grace.
.
.
"Don't worry, we were already on our way," Grace assured him.
.
.
.
As they strolled down the hallway, Grace looked over with a teasing smile. "So, Welfred... you never really 'move' your face, do you? Is it because you think it'll make you look older— or have you just forgotten how to smile?"
"Madam," Welfred said solemnly, "As I've mentioned before, I am quite aged. My skin has stretched and wrinkled enough as it is. If I start showing expressions, I might end up looking like an old man."
"(But you are an old man)," all three thought at once.
He straightened his posture proudly. "However, madam, I do know how to smile."
With that, he turned toward them and flashed the most awkward, toothy grin imaginable— lips twitching, eyes wide, looking like a haunted portrait trying to be friendly.
Grace froze. The kids blinked.
"Ahaha..." Grace laughed weakly, then whispered under her breath, "Right... maybe don't do that again."
Welfred turned around and resumed his usual blank expression.
The children exhaled in relief, whispering to each other, "That smile's gonna haunt my dreams."