The sun streamed through the tall window, soft and pale, landing on an old wooden floor that creaked with every breeze. The air smelled faintly of burnt firewood and warm cocoa.
"Master! Your drink is ready!"
The cheerful voice echoed down the hallway before the door creaked open. A young girl stepped in, her small hands carefully holding a steaming cup.
The room she entered was a mess. Clothes were scattered around as if a storm had passed through. Near the center, an old long couch sat unevenly beneath the light, and on it lay a man, upside down, with his head hanging toward the floor and his legs propped lazily over the backrest.
He wore a sleeveless undershirt and loose trousers, clearly, not dressed for guests or moving at all. Balanced on his chest was a small wooden board with hand-carved pieces, which he shifted with slow, thoughtful movements.
While a thin roll of dried leaf rested on his lips. Its ember glowed gently while dark-blue smoke curled up like ghostly threads.
"Master," the girl said, half sighing, half disappointed. "You're smoke that thing again?
"Mm," he murmured without looking up. "It help me think."
"You're not even working on anything except for playing that wooden board thing." she murmured.. "Ahh... nevermind."
"Well... this dried leaf is delicious for me," he replied, moving another piece.
The girl shook her head and stepped closer to set the cup down beside him. "Here. I made it extra sweet today."
He reached for it without sitting up, took a sip, and gave a lazy smile. "Tastes better when I don't make it myself."
She brightened instantly. "Then.... will we go out today?"
He opened one eye. "Out?"
"Yes! You promised we'd go for a walk. The weather's nice!"
He let out a quiet sigh and turned his gaze toward the ceiling while blowing out the puffs of dark-blue smoke he had inhaled to the ceiling. "It's too early."
"It's already noon," she said, crossing her arms.
He gave a slow, amused hum. "Then noon's too early."
The girl pouted, tapping her cute-looking small foot on the carpet. "You're impossible, Master."
"Only to people who try too hard," he said, sitting up at last. His hair was messy, his clothes wrinkled, but his blank-looking calmed never changed.
The girl beamed, tugging at his arm. "Come on, before it rains again!"
He stretched lazily, glanced once at the scattered board on the couch, and muttered, "I was about to win...."
"Against yourself!! ... you always say that,"she giggled.
He sighed, finally giving in. "Alright, alright. But you're carrying the umbrella this time."
"Deal!"
She dashed off to find it, her small footsteps echoing down the hallway
The man stood slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. The house quieted again for a moment—the faint hum of the wind outside, the ticking clock, and the soft scent of cocoa filling the air. He looked around at the disorder, then at the sunlight slipping through the curtains.
"Maybe going out isn't such a bad idea," he murmured, almost to himself.
With that, he followed her out the door.