The door opened, letting a young girl step inside.
Black-haired and thin for her age, she carried herself with a confidence that didn't quite fit the modest room. Her eyes swept over the scattered books, the unmade bed, the faint smell of old paper and dust, before she spoke with smugness woven neatly into her voice.
"I've secured the ownership of the inheritance. Considering you don't plan on doing anything with your life besides eating, reading, and sleeping, do you have any objections to me becoming the village chief instead?"
The young boy sighed, sliding a thin strip of paper between the pages of his book before closing it. He glanced at her, amusement plain on his face, making no effort to hide it.
"None raised, m'lady," he said lightly. "Good luck dealing with the idiots."
"I'll try. Might work," the 'lady' replied, shrugging. "Or the village might collapse."
She didn't sound serious in the slightest.
He stood, placing the book atop three others stacked on the nearby table. The wood creaked softly under the added weight.
"They'll send a replacement before that happens," he said, brushing dust from his hands. "But even you're better than those fill-ins."
She scoffed. "Are you comparing me to those unenthusiastic chimps?"
She wiped down the chair with her sleeve before sitting, eyeing the room again. "Why aren't you cleaning anymore?"
"Won't you do it for me, big sis?" he replied, already turning away.
He opened the old cabinet by the wall, its hinges protesting quietly. One by one, he pulled out items he deemed useless broken tools, yellowed scraps, things long forgotten and tossed them aside.
"I was planning on leaving tomorrow."
Her movements paused.
Just for a moment.
She looked at him again, properly this time. There was surprise there, faint but unmistakable followed quickly by something closer to resignation.
"…I figured," she said after a second. "You've been restless."
She stood, smoothing her clothes. "At least stay for a meal today. One proper one."
He hesitated, fingers lingering on the cabinet door. For a moment, it looked like he might refuse out of habit alone.
"…Alright," he said. "Just tonight." with a smile.
She smiled, small and satisfied, and left the room without another word.
The house grew quiet.
Jade sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the ceiling beams. Sleep crossed his mind briefly, then passed just as quickly. Instead, he reached for the book he had marked earlier.
From between its pages, he pulled out a sheet of yellowed, slightly thick paper. He unfolded it carefully, ran his thumb along the edge, then returned to reading.
By the time the light had shifted and the house had fallen into its deeper stillness, he closed the book.
He dipped a quill into ink and wrote a few lines on the yellow paper, nothing long, nothing elaborate. When he was done, he folded it neatly and tucked it away.
Jade stepped outside.
The night air was cool, the village quieter than usual. He walked without hurry, following a familiar path to a nearby house. Reaching a window, he slipped the folded paper into the narrow gap of a room's frame.
Then he turned and left.