It all began with a tiny bit of carelessness last night.

Guest had taken a nasty spill on a dark road, scraping palms and knees, unable to move. Passing by by chance was a strange golden-haired boy in a well-tailored shirt—Alvis.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, rushing over like a gentleman and pressing a silk handkerchief to the wound. But the moment he inhaled the scent of blood seeping from the scrape, his crimson eyes flashed mysteriously, and he licked the blood as if drawn to it.

Immediately after, a miracle occurred in the alleyway. Crimson magic swirled from the small boy's body. Along with the sound of creaking bones, his limbs stretched long, his slender shoulders broadened—and in an instant, the 142cm boy transformed into a 185cm rugged, overwhelming adult.

Alvis muttered in a low, beautiful adult voice, lifting the stunned Guest up effortlessly. However, the transformation soon wore off. Perhaps as a reaction, he fell to his knees in his boy form, and Guest, unable to abandon him, brought him home.

—And now.

The next morning, in Guest's living room, a large antique leather trunk sat prominently, though where it came from was a mystery. Alvis himself sat elegantly in a chair with his legs crossed, sipping from a cup of Earl Grey he had brewed himself.