The night air could bite, and a middle-aged man's breath hung in visible clouds before him. He huddled on the porch of his grand mansion, his arms wrapped tightly around himself in a futile attempt to ward off the chill. The estate around him held a blooming yard that could house a small village. He gazed up at the mansion's walls, painted pristine white and adorned with intricate golden panelling that gleamed in the moonlight.

     The man on the porch is none other than Frederick, a middle-aged gentleman with pale beige skin covered in deep wrinkles. The deep colour of his eyes is like cinnamon, and they scan the world around him. White strands begin to blend in with his short greyish-brown hair.

     A warm, furry brown robe drapes around Frederick, held around his waist by a sash. He pairs the plush garment with comfortable taupe trousers. On his feet, he dons black shoes with ornate silver buckles.

     The bitter cold seeps into Frederick's bones, and he wraps his arms around himself to keep warm. As he gazes at the street, his eyes land on something that draws his attention. Frederick spots a carriage stopping at the road.

     The coachman hops off the carriage and strides to the door, swinging it open. Oliver and Gregory emerge from the vehicle and step on the concrete pavement. Gregory then pays the driver with a handful of coins before pacing towards the tall gates of the mansion and walking across the front yard with Oliver in his arms.

     Frederick quickly swings open the front door from the porch, letting the warm light from inside spill out into the darkness. He turns his head and watches Oliver and Gregory walk through the blooming yard towards the entrance. Then, he straightens his back with a benevolent smile.

"Good evening!" Frederick greeted, his warm smile beaming up his face.

"Oh, Mr Frederick! Greetings!" Gregory responded, returning the smile with a broad grin.

"Please, do come in!" Frederick replied, gesturing towards the open door.

     Gregory's face lit up with gratitude at Frederick's kind offer, flashing a warm smile. Then, Oliver, Frederick and Gregory stepped across the entrance and into the mansion's lobby. Upon entering, they immediately saw maids inside, sweeping the floor.

"I must apologise for the delay in dinner. Our chefs were unwell earlier," Frederick explained as they strutted across the lobby.

"Don't worry about it, Mr Frederick," Gregory replied with a kind smile.

"...Fred...? I mean- I mean, Dad! I... I, uh, I think I'll turn in... for the night. I'm on a diet," Oliver slurred, his voice wavering.

"Really? We only had some drinks tonight," Gregory asked, raising a brow at Oliver.

"...Y-yeah..." Oliver murmured. He then yawned and closed his eyes.

"Then, I shall take you to your bedroom," Gregory offered, tightening his grip around Oliver.

"How about you, Gregory? Would you want some Cream of Chicken Soup for dinner?" Frederick smiled warmly.

"I'd love that!" Gregory answered, already walking towards the staircase with Oliver. "But first, I need to get Oliver to bed," he said.

     Gregory strides towards the grand staircase, guiding Oliver as they ascend the steps beneath the warm glow of the chandelier overhead. However, as they climb higher, Oliver's feet become unsteady, and Gregory has to hold onto the railings. Once they reach the second floor, they turn to a hallway near the stairs.

     The hallway leads Oliver and Gregory to Oliver's bedroom, and when they arrive, Gregory swings the door open wide. He moves quickly and effortlessly, scooping him up in his arms and carrying him to the bed. With gentle care, Gregory lays Oliver down on the warm, soft mattress, tucking him in with a cosy blanket.

"Greg..." Oliver moaned groggily, his eyes still closed and his words slurred.

     Gregory smiles, feeling the warmth of his faint blush as he brushes Oliver's hair with his light, gentle hand. He then peers at Oliver's sleepy face and notices him rapidly breathing through his mouth. Concerned, Gregory places his palm on Oliver's forehead and feels the warm, damp sweat.

"Wow, Oli... you're... you're hot," Gregory grunted in a deep voice.

"Thank you..." Oliver groaned as he grinned, his eyes still closed.

"No, I mean your temperature," Gregory clarified as he chuckled.

"Oh..."

     Without hesitation, Gregory rose from his seat and approached Oliver's wardrobe. His gaze fell upon a mahogany cabinet nearby, and he pulled open the doors. Inside, he found a set of lightweight white pyjamas neatly folded and waiting for Oliver to wear.

"Jackpot!" Gregory smiled.

     Gregory swiftly took the clothes from their place. He then closed the cabinet. Turning away from the wardrobe, Gregory returned to Oliver's bedside.

"You're already asleep?" Gregory wondered aloud.

     As the silence lingered, Gregory took note of the absence of a response from Oliver, realizing that his friend had fallen asleep. He glanced at Oliver's peaceful face before his gaze drifted down to his chest, noticing the rise and fall of his steady breathing. Second thoughts began to stir within Gregory, causing his lips to tighten. After a deep breath, he summoned the courage to unbutton Oliver's outfit.

     Gregory struggles to locate the buttons on Oliver's outfit as they blend in with the long, vertical black stripe on the tailcoat. His hands brush against his friend's chest as he searches. Soon, he finds one of the buttons and unfastens it quickly. Suddenly, something catches his eye from the doorway, causing him to pause and slowly turn his head. His eyes widen.

     Three maids eagerly watch as Gregory unbuttons the Remaining Podeshire's clothes. Despite their attempts to remain composed, their flushed faces betray their excitement. One of the ladies then grabs the doorknob and slowly closes the door.

     Before the door could shut, Gregory raised his hand towards the maids, his eyes gaping open. The maid paused and widened the gap in response. Using his other hand, Gregory swiftly retrieved the nearby pyjamas and held them up for the maids to see.

"I'm just helping him change—" Gregory mouthed with exaggerated clarity, ensuring the maids understood his intentions.

     The maids' gawking faces suddenly softened. The rosy flush on their cheeks slowly faded away, and they collectively sighed in relief. With polite smiles and nods, they bid Oliver and Gregory farewell, their footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor as they closed the door behind them.

     Soon, early sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow across the room and illuminating Oliver's face. At first, he tried to turn his head away from the light by looking in the other direction. But, the brightness persisted on both sides, making it impossible to avoid.

     The sunlight disturbs Oliver from his sleep, causing him to open his eyes and erect on the bed. As he rubs his eyelids, he notices he is no longer wearing his uniform from last night. He realizes he is now wearing a white shirt with intricate brown lacing on the collar.

     Oliver couldn't help but wonder if someone had changed his clothes while he slept. The thought made his heart race with anticipation, and he felt a tingling sensation of curiosity throughout his body. Eager to find out, he quickly pushed the blanket off his legs and looked down at his lower half; he was still wearing the same gold pants from the previous day.

"Damn," Oliver exclaimed, slapping the mattress.