Louis Sutton squatted there for a while before finally digging out his winter slippers. He slipped them on and went inside.
Simon Keats was sprawled casually on the sofa, wearing his slippers. He said to Summer Thorne, "Summer, I've been thinking about those dishes you ordered last time for ages. I've been dying to come back and have them again, and today I finally got the chance!"
Summer Thorne poured him a glass of water. "Did you tell your guardian you were coming here?"
"You mean my uncle?" Simon Keats asked back.
With a cold expression, Louis Sutton threw his schoolbag at the boy on the sofa.
Simon Keats dodged it with a tilt of his head and laughed heartily. "Relax. My uncle isn't in Valois; he's abroad. With him so far away, I can do whatever I want! I'm totally free!"
"Is that so?" Summer Thorne finally smiled but didn't ask anything more.
"So, Summer, can I come over to mooch meals often in the future?" Simon Keats immediately seized the opportunity to ask.
