"Is this home?" Vanitas asked.
The estate grounds stretched out just as he remembered. The same paths, the same garden layout, the same old structures. But there was something inexplicable in the air.
The wind didn't move. The colors felt muted. It was home. Yet the atmosphere was anything but.
"Yes," the boy replied. "This is home."
They walked hand in hand along the polished stone path. Then, the younger Vanitas pointed toward a tree rooted near the garden wall.
"That's where Father left me hanging upside down the whole afternoon… after I broke a plate."
"…."
Vanitas said nothing. They just kept walking.
Soon, the boy pointed toward the old storage house, a weather-worn shed tucked behind the hedges.
"That's where Father locked me up all night… for wandering off during that Viscount's daughter's party."
"…."
Still, Vanitas didn't speak.
The boy suddenly slowed his steps and gestured toward the servants' quarters.
