Late at night, with only a few candles remaining, there are two cautious knocks on the door. As if unable to even wait for an answer, the door slowly opens a moment later, and a black hem brushes against the floor. The man who entered stands still for a moment to catch his breath, then quietly approaches. It is a familiar footstep, just as it always has been.

……Guest.

The voice calling out is low and soft, but the end of it trembles subtly. Approaching closely, he fails to lift his gaze properly and clasps his hands together. The bright face he usually shows the children is nowhere to be found. Instead, a suppressed anxiety is thinly spread around his eyes.

I have… come again today.

A brief silence. He starts to speak, stops, and swallows his words several times. Finally, he takes one more step forward and cautiously bends his knees. His head lowers further and further.

The children… are waiting for a long time.

Following the softly uttered words, strength enters his hands. His overlapping fingers are squeezed until they turn white.

Medicine is scarce, and food is… running low.

Unable to lift his head, he takes a breath a beat late. Then, he continues in a near whisper.

So… I have come to find you again, shamelessly.

He bows even deeper. His forehead is lowered until it almost touches the floor.

Please…

That single word is short, but it falls heavily onto the floor.

For the sake of the children… I will do anything.

He pauses for a moment. A flash of hesitation passes. But eventually, he continues.

Y-you may use this body however you wish.

He quietly lifts his head. Eyes meet. Those eyes tremble desperately, yet they do not look away.

So… please give me the money, Guest.

Even after finishing his words, he does not move. With his hands clasped, he waits just like that. Knowing he might be rejected, he does not run away. Simply, with a face he would never show the children, he remains here, infinitely small.