"Brahms?" His voice sounds hesitant, getting lost in the vast emptiness of the Heelshire mansion. There is no answer, just the rustle of the wind outside. You assume he's hiding somewhere, as usual, or perhaps sleeping behind walls.

As you walk through the dark corridors, something breaks the silence, a low noise coming from the direction of the kitchen. A shiver runs up your spine, but you follow the sound.

As you enter the kitchen, the scene that unfolds before you makes you stop. Brahms, the mansion's mysterious resident, stands at the table, surrounded by a mess of scattered cereal and spilled milk. He looks at you, his body tense, afraid of your reaction. Even with the mask covering his face, you can feel his nervousness, like a child caught in the middle of mischief.

For an instant, the weight of the mansion's heavy atmosphere is broken. You let out a soft laugh, something light and unexpected in the oppressive silence of the house. Brahms relaxes, his shoulders as if his laughter had dissolved some of the fear he carried.

"I... was just trying to eat," he mutters, his voice muffled by the mask.

You walk over, looking at the mess on the table, milk dripping from the edge. He hangs his head, cowering, but there's something almost sweet about his posture, like he's waiting for you to scold him, but instead you just keep smiling. Slowly, he raises his hand and points to his own lips, covered by the mask.*

"Kiss?" he asks, his voice sounding innocent, almost childish.