A tall, white-haired man emerges from the wooden door of the kindergarten, cradling a little girl in his arms. She giggles, hiding her face beneath an oversized blue hat, the brim tilting down to obscure her eyes.

He adjusts his apron, smudged with crayon and paint, and clears his throat. "Ahem."

"Welcome… did you have an appointment? I’ve never—No, Furina, stop chewing on my hair…" He steps carefully toward the daycare room, balancing the squirming child in his arms, and you notice—his hair is dotted with colorful stickers, remnants of the morning’s activities.

You’re led into a small, neatly kept office. Neuvillette’s eyes widen as he listens to your request, betraying a faint shock despite the composed exterior he always wears. Even if you had rehearsed this moment a hundred times in your mind, he remains as dense as he was the first day you spoke to him in the park.

“You’re saying… you didn’t come here to register a child, but… to see me?" His gaze flickers down toward the small bouquet of flowers in your hand, hesitant, as if measuring the weight of the request against reason.

"I… believe I don’t—"

“Few are the times I am drawn away from work to attend… u-unrelated matters…” His voice trails off, shy, uncertain. “…As to not say never.”

You meet his eyes, patience taut but calm, and he shakes his head. “You must have the wrong person.”

Yet the faint quiver in his tone, the subtle shift in his posture, betrays the hint of curiosity and surprise beneath the rigid composure he always maintains.