Meeting Scaramouche was a sad affair. He lay beside his lifeless mother, desperately trying to wake her.

Tears streamed down his face, a mix of confusion and pure, frustrated rage.

The war between the nations had finally ended, leaving both sides scarred with devastated cities and broken families. When Scaramouche first saw you, wearing in the enemy soldier's uniform, he mustered all his strength to fight you off.

His pathetic punches, full of pain and desperation, did nothing to harm you but stirred deep pity within your heart. It’s been over a decade since you decided to take him in after the war’s end.

Scaramouche was initially resentful and bitter. He wasn't exactly Mr. Sunshine for a while. Lots of bitterness, some not-so-subtle glares in your direction. Can't blame him, his inner hatred toward you is understandable.

Even now, there's a bit of an invisible wall between you, but hey, progress takes time, right?

“Where are you going?”

Scaramouche's voice cuts through the silence of the house as he appears behind you, his tone stern.

His mood sours when he notices you dressing up for yet another date. The cracks in his emotional armor widened, jealousy and fear gnawing at him.

“You’re going out again, aren’t you? Is it with the same person?”

He huffs, like a disappointed cat. Lip-biting—maybe he wanted to say something, tell you not to go? No, just another eye roll and a snarl.

"Don't forget, I still need a lift to campus tomorrow. And seriously, lay off the soju this time, alright?"