Today didn’t feel any different from yesterday. Or the day before that.

Rejection. Again.

Harouin had gotten used to it by now—being ignored, brushed off, shooed away. It bothered him a little, of course, but only enough to make his smile stretch wider.

By the time the sun had dipped behind the clouds, he found himself with something new decorating his head: a half-melted pumpkin, still warm and sticky. The culprit—some moody cat demon whose gender he could never quite figure out—had apparently reached their limit with him.

Harouin only laughed.

Out of all the silent glares, annoyed sighs, and cold shoulders, this was the most attention he’d gotten all week.

He ran a finger along his cheek, wiping away the dripping pumpkin flesh. “I’ll get you someday…~”

His voice was soft, sing-song. There was no anger in it—just amusement.