Soon, the dark navy blue sky transformed into a bright pastel. Sunlight reflected off the scattered, wispy clouds, casting its rays upon the land. On the distant horizon, where the earth met the sky, a subtly warm tangerine hue lingered while the rest of the atmosphere shimmered like brilliant blue crystals. A gentle, soothing breeze hummed with the birds nesting nearby, and the white clouds above dispersed. Windows throughout the opulent neighbourhood creaked open, and flocks of birds took flight from the rooftops.

     Silence permeates every corner inside the grand mansion where the Remaining Podeshire lives. Only faint, muffled footsteps reverberate through the halls, devoid of spoken words. Maids gather together, dusting the cabinets with feathery dusters. Other servants sweep the floors while the rest of the attendants arrange pots of plants on the tables, creating an orderly display.

     Under a mossy green bedcover, Oliver stirs and wakes up, his eyelids heavy with drowsiness. Yawning, he lifts the sheet from his face, fluttering his eyes until he adjusts to the light. Oliver takes a deep breath through his nose and savours the aroma before releasing the warm air from his lungs.

     Later, Oliver finds himself walking across the empty dining room, his steps echoing softly. Approaching a window, he cradles a steaming white mug filled with coffee. Through the glass, he gazes at the sky while tree branches cast their reflections upon the pane.

     The sky's brightness dazzles Oliver's eyes—as if the radiance is captured within his very pupils. Peering into the clouds, he releases a sigh of relief, finding solace in the view. Taking a deliberate, unhurried sip from his mug, he relishes the contrasting dance of bitter, roasted nuts mingling with lingering sweetness on his palate.

     Creamy and milky fragrances tingle Oliver's tongue, transforming into scents that travel to his nostrils, evoking a delightful sensory symphony. Swallowing the last remnants of his drink, he breathes in and out, each breath imbued with a serene calmness. His gaze remains fixed on the sky beyond the window, a gentle smile gradually emerging upon his countenance, embracing the new day.

     A warm presence touches Oliver's back, drawing his attention without the need to turn his head or shift his body. He glances over his shoulder, and his smile broadens as he sees Gregory approaching. Gregory joins Oliver by the window, holding a warm cup of coffee. The two men then exchange grins before taking quick, delicate sips, their eyes shifting to the expanse of the sapphire sky framed by the crystal-clear window.

     As the hours pass in a skip, Oliver and Gregory lounge in a spacious room, their children playfully scattered across the floor. Sunbeams of gold filter through arched windows embellished with open red curtains while the faint thump of shoes against the dark chocolate-coloured wooden floorboards fills the air. The wooden walls, as dim as burnt ebony, emit a polished lustre akin to a gleaming coin. A fireplace rests quietly on the left side of the room, its flames absent, yet the hearth still producing warmth.

     Bookshelves and cabinets line the walls, housing a collection of cherished volumes and treasures. A ticking clock marks the passage of time, its steady rhythm cutting through the air. Amidst it all, chairs and crimson-red sofas dot throughout the lounge, accompanied by marble vases holding vibrant blooming plants, bringing greenery to the serene space.

     Oliver wears a long-sleeved white shirt, its light fabric contrasting against his unbuttoned green waistcoat with golden buttons. Black trousers and polished leather shoes complete his look, ensuring a refined appearance as he settles onto a single sofa. With unwavering focus, Oliver's eyes scan the pages of the thick, heavy novel in his hands, immersing himself in the captivating world woven through the letters.

     Seated on Oliver's left side, Gregory also relaxes on a sofa. He mirrors Oliver's choice of a white shirt and black shoes but adds his personal touch with a buttoned ginger vest and mahogany-brown trousers. Resting on the sofa's armrest, a notebook awaits Gregory's thoughts, receiving the diligent strokes of his quill pen. Leaning closer to the pages, his head tilts as he brings his writing to a satisfying conclusion.

     Meanwhile, Victoria, Elizabeth, Albert, George, and Jean find their places on the cool wooden floor, still clad in their comfortable, silky attire from the previous night. Engrossed in imaginative play, they delight in the company of dolls and dragon figurines, their joyous laughter and mischievous grins intermingling with the serenity of their parents' reading sessions. As their parents immerse themselves in the world of books, the children's vibrant energy and innocent creativity create a peaceful backdrop, infusing the cold space with an atmosphere of warmth.

"Hehe!" Jean giggled and stamped a dragon figurine on the floor, mimicking its walking action.

"Roar!" George exclaimed, unleashing a fierce growl while pointing his toy at the others, pretending to unleash its mighty power.

"Wow, is that a dragon?" Albert asked, observing the toy creature.

"Yes," George nodded, lowering his toy from his brothers' faces.

"Trala, la, la, la, la," Elizabeth whispered in a high-pitched voice, providing a whimsical soundtrack for her doll's words. "Oh, hello, Mrs Claire! How are you doing today?"

Victoria joined the imaginative play, responding to Elizabeth's doll with her character. "Oh, hello, Mrs Harrison! I'm doing well, thank you. And how about you?"

"Today is wonderful, Mrs Claire!" Elizabeth continued, voicing her doll's response.

"And that's wonderful to hear, too, Mrs Harrison!" Victoria replied, still voicing her doll.

As the children immersed themselves in their playful world, Oliver lowered his book from his face, revealing a friendly smile. Curiosity sparked within him as he asked, "Hey, how old are all of you?"

The children quickly raised their hands, vying to answer first.

"I'm nine!" Victoria proudly answered, shooting her hand up in the air.

"Me! Seven!" Elizabeth chimed in. She then nudged Albert.

"Ow!" Albert winced as Elizabeth's elbow bumped against his arm. He glanced at Elizabeth and immediately noticed her pointing at Oliver. "Oh, uh! I'm six!" Albert responded.

"George is five years old," Victoria pointed at her brother.

"Five?" George tilted his head, contemplating the concept of age.

"And how about you, Jean?" Oliver turned to Jean.

Jean's eyes widened with surprise as he pointed at himself, questioning his role in the conversation.

Albert leaned in, whispering into Jean's ear. "He's asking how old you are!"

"My old? Jean? Jean!" Jean responded, his voice filled with innocence and confusion, oblivious that his answer didn't align with the question.

Victoria and Elizabeth exchanged amused glances, realizing the misinterpretation.

"Oh, no, no, no. How 'old' are you?" Victoria clarified, emphasizing the word with patience.

Elizabeth joined in, seeking to simplify the inquiry. "What's your age?"

"Ah! White!" Jean answered, still offering an unrelated response, his innocent misunderstanding evident.

"No, 'age'. How. Old. Are. You?" Victoria reiterated, her tone gentle and encouraging.

Jean glanced at his fingers, furrowing his brows in concentration. "Four!" he said, presenting all five fingers on his right palm.

"That's five," Albert said.

Jean glanced at his fingers again with a determined expression on his face. "Four!" he proclaimed, lowering one finger and now displaying four fingers, aligning with his intended response.

"Four," Gregory playfully interjected, winking as he pointed at Jean's fingers.