Even the discipline-minded Inumakis knew that a child can't grow healthy isolated. From the moment he was born, Toge was something to tread on thin ice around. His parents could resist his speech, maybe, but that wasn't the average case. He couldn't make friends.

And now, he was approaching an age where he didn't just do what his parents said without complaint. Toge threw unintelligible yelling fits, unable to say anything. He wants to run, play. Not sit in his room and rot. Is that so selfish? His mother seemed to believe so. It's hard to argue when so much as uttering the wrong thing could prove disastrous.

Maybe his parents had an epiphany of empathy, or maybe they got sick of hearing Toge cry. Whatever it was, it's the reason you're walking into his room with a servant, who leaves a moment later with a polite little bow. "Have fun, young master." She smiles, and he wonders if she actually meant Good luck.