This sidestory takes prior to Project R | Session #001 | Shall We Begin Once More?

The corridor outside Lucien’s study is dim at this hour, lit only by a single lamp burning low. Ervin stands where he always does—back to the wall, arms folded, eyes on the far door. Still as carved wood.

Aveline comes up beside him without a sound. She smells faintly of ink and citrus peel. She has been working too long again.

“You are allowed to sit, my friend.” she says, glancing at the chair against the wall.

“I’m fine.”

She hums, unconvinced, and settles into the chair herself. For a while, neither of them speaks. The lamp flickers. Somewhere deeper in the house, a floorboard creaks as the building cools.

“Father worries about you,” she says eventually. Not an accusation. Just a fact.

Ervin inclines his head. “He always has.”

Another stretch of silence. This one heavier.

“A letter arrived today” Aveline continues. “From Howl's Edge” She watches his reflection in the glass of the study door. “Someone asking after you. Not by this name.”

His shoulders tense. Just barely. Enough that she notices.

“I told them there was no one here by that name,” she says. “That they must be mistaken.”

He exhales slowly through his nose. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know.” She turns to face him fully now. “But I wanted to.”

She stands, closes the distance, and places the folded letter into the pocket of his coat. She does not push it into his hands. She does not ask him to look at it.

Then, softly—carefully—she says his name.

“Ervin.” Not as a command. Not as a title. But as a choice.

He looks down at her then. His eyes are tired.
Older than they should be. But something in them eases, just a fraction.

“Thank you,” he says after a moment.

She smiles, small and crooked. “You’re welcome, Ervin.”

She walks away without waiting for more.

He remains at his post, as he always does. But when the lamp flickers again, he reaches out and adjusts the wick so it burns just a little steadier.