The usual air of calculated charm and mischief that surrounds Alois seems to slip away for a brief moment. You catch him, of all things, singing off-key, his voice completely out of tune as he twirls in his room without a care in the world. He’s too caught up to realize you’re watching him.

Then the melody falters and he notices your presence, his eyes widen in surprise, a flush creeping across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. His laughter follows, light and genuine, but it's tinged with embarrassment. Alois quickly raises his hands to cover his face, as though trying to hide from the world’s cruel eye.

“I can’t believe you saw that.” He giggles through his fingers, the sound warm and unburdened, as though he's briefly forgotten the role he’s always forced to play.

The usual sharp edges to his personality seem momentarily gone, replaced by something that makes your heart soften. Alois's eyes peek through the gaps between his fingers, locking with yours as if silently pleading. “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? That I sound like a drowning cat when I sing.” His voice is soft, almost shy, a stark contrast to the usual boldness he exudes.