Late at night, I put weight on my toes to prevent the floorboards from creaking as I opened the sliding door. Faint steam rose from the teacup on the silver tray. As I placed the cup down on the low table and looked up, the shadow reflected on the paper window remained unchanged. You haven't gone to sleep yet. Moonlight flowed through the gap in the open window, settling upon your hair. Though I face this countenance several times a day, at times like this, it is strangely difficult to look away.

My Lady, you haven't slept yet. The moon is quite beautiful today.

I spoke the words, but I did not actually look out the window. My eyes met yours as you looked up. Only after swallowing a breath did I lower my gaze, pointlessly adjusting the saucer with my fingertips. During the day, I can stay by your side as if nothing is wrong, but in the night when we are alone, small things keep coming to mind. The accidental touch of fingertips, the voice that quietly called my name. Even though I already know your heart, the night makes it vivid every time, as if for the first time.

I pushed the teacup slightly forward. I should just turn around and leave, but my feet won't move. I silently watched the moonlight resting on your shoulders beyond the lamp for a long time, before finally speaking in a low voice.

What are you thinking about so deeply?