Afterwards, Oliver strolls alongside his beloved adoptive father and companions. The sidewalk beneath their feet guides them through a neighbourhood teeming with grand mansions and opulent estates. The bustling streets hum with the occasional rattle and tap of carriages passing as their wheels groan on the cobblestones.

     Above Oliver, the sky undergoes a breathtaking transformation. The fading sunlight paints the heavens in hues of pastel rose, casting a warm golden glow on the world below. As the evening progresses, a bright crescent moon appears on the celestial canvas.

"Hey, Oli?" Sophia's voice cut through the air as everyone walked down the pavement.

"Yeah?" Oliver responded.

"Just to be clear, you have no intention of pursuing a wife and having children?" she questioned politely.

"Yeah," he answered as he nodded while walking.

"Oh, so... not only are you uninterested in having children, but you also have no desire for a romantic partner?" Sophia asked.

"...Tsk... about that... I..." Oliver's words faltered. He began, but the sound of another voice cut off his words.

Gregory approached Oliver, a smile dancing on his lips as he tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey?"

"Yes, Greg?" Oliver answered, glancing at Gregory as they strolled.

"Can I ask you something?" Gregory's face slowly turned red as he glanced down.

"Sure," Oliver's gaze softened, keeping his glance locked on Gregory.

"So, you don't have feelings for anyone?" Gregory asked.

"No," Oliver smiled.

     Oliver's gaze suddenly intensifies, creating a small amber dot within his eyes. His widened lids reveal a flicker as he comes to an abrupt and sudden stop. Slowly, Oliver looks down as he scratches the back of his neck.

"Greg?" Oliver's pace slowed, and he turned towards Gregory.

"Yes?" Gregory adjusted his steps to match his friend's leisure pace.

"I think I need to tell you the truth," Oliver's voice dropped to a whisper.

"What is it?" Gregory asked.

"Don't tell anyone, alright?" Oliver leaned closer and pointed a finger at Gregory's lips. "It's a secret."

"You have my trust," Gregory nodded.

"I admit... I think... I like someone," he confessed. Oliver then hastened his pace.

     Gregory's gaze locks on his friend as his brows furrow. His lips curve down, mirroring the weight he senses in his heart. Tilting his head, Gregory glances at the ground—as if feeling the gravitational pull of his emotions.

     The group continues their leisurely pace, moving forward calmly. They drink in the beauty of their surroundings as their glance draws up to admire the towering mansions around them. Gardens filled with vibrant blooms in diverse shades and hues offer a delightful feast for their eyes.

     As Oliver is about to veer to the right, entering their mansion's grounds through a sturdy metallic gate, a sudden stillness overtakes him. His eyes narrow, fixating on the straight path ahead. A rough sigh escapes his lips as he closes his eyes.

"What is this, this time?" Oliver muttered.

     Three figures men stand like eerie scarecrows in front of the gate to Frederick's imposing mansion. Their heads, partially balding, are crowned with tall, menacing top hats that reach skyward and cast elongated shadows. Foggy cravat ties encircle their necks as long dark coats descend to their knees, draping over their forms, while waistcoats in a shade reminiscent of drying blood add an unsettling aura. Their shiny boots conceal half of their beige-khaki trousers that meld with the darkness like ethereal shadows.

     Among them, the man at the centre, the shortest of the trio, steps forward. The golden monocle on his right eye glints as he steps towards the Remaining Podeshire. The man slowly brings his fist to his lips, clearing his throat as his other hand lies behind him.

"Greetings, sir!" the man nodded politely, introducing his team. "We are a renowned group of speculators and theorists, well-versed in employing the latest mathematical and logical formulas to predict various phenomena. Our track record boasts successful anticipations based on our theories, supported by complex equations. We humbly request your time to present our ideas, accompanied by compelling evidence!"

Oliver glanced back at Frederick. "Dad...?"

"What seems to be the matter?" Frederick whispered.

"Who are they looking for? Are they here for you? And why have they stationed themselves at our doorstep?" Oliver whispered back.

The speculator, with a knowing smile, inquired, "Oh, this is the mansion of Frederick Alcadee, our former mayor. Correct?"

"Indeed, it is," Frederick confirmed with a nod.

"Marvelous! Might we propose our recently formulated speculation to you?" the man suggested.

"Of course. But to whom is this presentation directed? To all of us?" Frederick sought clarification.

"I would relish an audience! The more, the merrier, wouldn't you agree?" the speculator winked. "However, this particular topic is dedicated to the gentleman in the green attire, distinguished by his silver hair and amber eyes," he pointed at Oliver.

"Me?" Oliver pointed at himself, feeling uneasy.

"Yes, you!" the speculator responded.

"Well... uh, then... greetings. My name is..." Oliver extended his hand.

The speculator swiftly shook Oliver's hand, exclaiming, "Oliver Podeshire! It is truly an honour to make your acquaintance!"