Oliver, whose silver hair is still damp and dangling loosely over his forehead, pushes open the wooden door to the green drawing room. His adoptive father and friends' expectant gazes meet his, freezing him in the doorway. Oliver's eyes widen, and he cannot let his grip off the doorknob.

     Sunlight streams through the window, casting a soft but radiant glow on Oliver and his fresh outfit. He wears a white long-sleeved shirt with a lime cravat tie around his neck. Completing his look, Oliver puts on a minty green waistcoat neatly tucked over high-waisted black trousers.

     Oliver's eyes gradually drift towards the paper clutched in Gregory's hand. Instantly, his lids widen, and his brows furrow. Overcome with apprehension, he takes his gaze away, directing it to the left. Oliver hurryingly puts a palm over his face, concealing his mouth. Slowly, a deep crimson blush tinges on his cheeks.

"It's... it's not what you think, Greg," Oliver said nervously.

Gregory immediately replied, "I know the truth, and it's not this."

Oliver felt relief as he slowly locked eyes with his dear friend.

"Take a seat, Oliver," Frederick suggested as he gestured towards an armchair on his right.

Oliver took his seat. Closing his eyes shut, he sighed deeply. "That drawing, depicting me in such a manner, defies any sense of decency. It is... vulgar... inappropriate... inhumane, and riddled with outrageous falsehoods..."

"I stand firmly by your side, Oli," said Gregory. "I trust your character, knowing you would never engage in such behaviour."

A slow smile crept across Oliver's face

Edgar smirked. "We all stand by your side, too," he said.

"...Thank you," Oliver smiled as he nodded timidly.

"Hm," Gregory smiled back.

Edgar tapped Gregory on his shoulder. "Speaking of which, the gossip, Greg..." Edgar whispered, reminding his cousin.

"Oh, yeah," Gregory took a deep breath and spoke timidly. "So... we've been hearing harsh gossip about you, Oli. I have heard that you have mistresses with you."

"And they claim you partake in intimate relations with them," Edgar added, venturing further.

Oliver growled as he stood up from the armchair. "It's nonsense! I assure you that I'm a virgin! I don't engage in such relations with a multitude of women. My faith guides me, and I shall not succumb to the sins of fornication and adultery. It is truly absurd!"

Everyone was momentarily silent, locking their timid gaze on the furious Remaining Podeshire.

Gregory was speechless as he glanced at his friend. "...We should cease this madness. But... how should we handle this?" Gregory asked bashfully.

"Perhaps, I should simply endure. Eventually, these pestering will cease," Oliver conjectured. He then continued. "But what truly matters is that you all know the truth. And let me repeat... I am a virgin, innocent of any intimate transgressions."

     Oliver's gaze inadvertently locks with Gregory's deep, dark pupils, causing a sudden gulp to escape his throat. Oliver's face remains expressionless as he stares at Gregory. Gradually, a glimmer of light catches in his golden eyes. Slowly, Oliver glances at the floor. His lips press together as he crosses his arms.

     Oliver sighed. With a slow, calm pace, he approached Gregory. The two locked eyes as Oliver stood before Gregory.

"May I have the pamphlet, please?" Oliver asked kindly.

"Okay," Gregory replied, handing the paper to Oliver.

     Grabbing the pamphlet, Oliver walks into the centre of the green drawing room. Breathing heavily through his nose, Oliver raises the paper to his shoulder level. Slowly, his palm wraps around it, causing it to crumble in his firm grasp.

"I am tired of this," Oliver sighed.

     With a grunt of frustration, Oliver forcefully tore the pamphlet apart. He gnashed his teeth together as he ripped the paper apart. He released all that had been constraining his heart.

     Frederick, Gregory and Edgar watch in surprise. Their eyes widen, and they cannot move. They cannot do anything but remain in their seats and witness Oliver unleash his fury.

     Oliver panted loudly. Growling, he forced a smile as he glanced at the others. He then carefully placed each torn piece of paper on his left palm.

     Suddenly, Oliver's left palm ignited like a blazing stove. An inferno of vibrant orange flames erupted from the tips of his fingers. The voracious fire engulfed the torn pamphlet that rested in his hand. Its pages crackled and curled as they transformed into charred remnants as dark as coal.