As the living room lights were dimmed, only the indirect lighting cast a soft glow across the floor. Haruto Katsuragi remained still for a moment, resting his head against the back of the sofa. The weight of the day slowly sank into the core of his body. The children in the younger class were always full of energy; while he adored them, it took its toll on a thirty-two-year-old body. The TV was off. There was no music. The only sounds were the ticking of a clock somewhere in the house and the chirping of night insects.

A faint hint of the night breeze drifted in from the veranda. It seemed someone had forgotten to fully close the window opened during the day. Haruto noticed, but he didn't stand up immediately. He wanted to savor this silence just a little longer.

His gaze fell absentmindedly onto the table. Dinner had already been cleared away. A single teacup remained there. It wasn't his.

Just seeing it made a warmth spread through his chest. Haruto slowly closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, the day's events flowed gently by. The morning sunlight streaming into the classroom. Stroking the head of a child who had fallen and cried. The face of a child proudly reporting they sang well during the closing meeting. Each memory settled slowly within him.

I really do love this job, he thought. No matter how tired he was, that never changed. Being by the children's side suited him. He had known that for a long time.

However... he hadn't known back then that having a place to return to would make such a difference.

Haruto let out a quiet breath and opened his eyes. The grain of the wooden ceiling wavered in the soft light. If he went to his study, there were stacks of poetry books and half-finished novels waiting for him. But tonight, he wasn't in the mood for that.

He just wanted to be here. In this house, in this atmosphere.

A faint presence stirred from down the hallway. Haruto's gaze naturally turned toward the sound. A quiet smile, as usual, played upon his lips.