The blanket quietly slipped off her body. Clarice gently touched it, feeling its warmth, tenderness flickering in her eyes.
"You're awake. Breakfast is on the table."
"...I know~"
Even though this wasn't the first time, Clarice felt herself falling even more fo Rrakavasha.
Strictly speaking, their relationship was that of a patient's family member and doctor.
Yet his gentleness far exceeded the boundaries of such a relationship.
He didn't need to go this far, so why did he?
The young woman's thoughts wandered.
After washing up, Clarice sat at the table and obediently ate her breakfast, chewing slowly bite by bite.
Though not eating would prompt him to tell her, "Skipping breakfast isn't good for your health."
But she didn't want that kind of deliberately prompted concern.
Rrakavasha's home contained many miraculous things.
Like this dining table, for instance.
Hot food placed on it wouldn't cool even after a full day and night, and apple slices wouldn't oxidize.
After finishing breakfast, Clarice checked the time.
Several hours remained until Mother's treatment session ended.
She glanced at the dishes being swallowed into the table's "belly" for cleaning and disinfection.
She wanted to help him around the house badly, but she could only watch it all be taken care of by his mysterious machines.
But there was one thing... Rrakavasha always did personally.
She'd been curious about it for quite a while.
After a brief internal debate, Clarice decided to ask about the doubt that had troubled her for so long.
She walked to Rrakavasha's side and stood demurely, maintaining a ladylike posture.
"Mr. Rrakavasha, there's something... I've wanted to ask you for a long time."
"Feel free."
"Is that residence not far from here also your home?"
Over the past five years, during her regular visits to see Mr. Rrakavasha, she'd often caught him heading there to clean or returning to the bamboo house after cleaning.
Sometimes, she'd see him trimming the dense vegetation along the path.
That path also led to the bamboo house.
Rrakavasha fell silent for a moment before shaking his head slightly. "...It's not my home."
Clarice wasn't particularly surprised.
She'd suspected as much, if it were his, why would Mr. Rrakavasha live in this bamboo house instead?
"Then... why do you clean that residence so frequently?"
"That's my teacher's home. Long ago, she used special means to relocate it here, but now she's forgotten to take it with her." Rrakavasha explained gently.
Only then did Clarice notice that Mr. Rrakavasha's gaze seemed perpetually fixed in that direction.
Though that phrase about "forgetting to take it" was somewhat puzzling.
Did he mean moving an entire building like moving furniture?
"And trimming the vegetation along the path... why do that?"
It couldn't be to make the bamboo house easier for others to find. Though she didn't fully understand why, she knew Mr. Rrakavasha was a homebody who never left.
"So Teacher won't forget the way home." That's what Rrakavasha said.
"..." Clarice froze completely.
From those words, she caught a note of sorrow, unmistakably clear.
Why was Mr. Rrakavasha sorrowful?
Could his teacher have passed away... no, no!
Just as she was about to shake her head and dismiss such chaotic thoughts, she realized Rrakavasha's hand had settled on top of her head.
"Teacher is chasing a certain destination. Along the way, she's abandoned and forgotten many things... perhaps including her home."
"I firmly believe that if one day she achieves her goal and reaches that destination, she'll remember many forgotten things and will surely come home."
"I can't help her, but what I can do is look after her home for her."
Feeling the warm body heat from the palm on her head, Clarice inexplicably felt a surge of envy and jealousy.
Jealousy toward Rrakavasha's teacher.
But Rrakavasha, who valued relationships so deeply... she loved that about him!
"Your teacher must be very important to you, Mr. Rrakavasha?"
"Of course. Without Teacher, I would have died long ago."
No wonder.
Clarice understood, and the inexplicable jealousy in her heart dissipated like smoke.
Someone capable of teaching such an outstanding student as Rrakavasha must surely be a remarkable person.
"Then where is Mr. Rrakavasha's homeland?"
"It became cosmic dust long ago. Where my heart belongs is my home."
"So that's why Mr. Rrakavasha was happy yesterday when you said Mother and I could go home?"
"More or less."
The answer made Clarice sigh inwardly.
Rrakavasha, oh Rrakavasha, your heart chose this place as its home, not that cold, so-called homeland.
But... you don't realize it yourself.
"Let's leave it there for now. I need to make a trip to the back mountain."
Rrakavasha checked the time and left his instructions.
"If there are any problems before Mrs. Durand's treatment ends, notify me immediately. I'll come back right away."
Clarice startled, then came to her senses.
Right, every year at this time, Rrakavasha would go to the back mountain to fertilize and properly prune that plum grove.
Around a certain date the following year, he seemed to call that date Dahan, he would go pick the blooming plum blossoms for making wine.
As for the taste, she'd sampled it many times, each leaving her reluctant to stop. It was delicious enough to make one temporarily forget their troubles.
If asked about the most memorable drink she'd ever had in her life, it would undoubtedly be his plum blossom wine.
Oh, right, Dahan also happened to be his birthday.
"Let me help you, Mr. Rrakavasha."
"No need. That long dress of yours isn't suitable for mountain activities. You'd better stay here and watch over your mother." Rrakavasha smiled gently, politely declining the young woman's kind offer.
Hearing this, Clarice could only nod helplessly.
Yesterday, Mother's condition had suddenly flared up, and she couldn't remember anything except her daughter.
They'd left in such a rush that there had been no time to change into more practical clothing.
Rrakavasha removed his white coat and hung it on the rack.
Glancing at the temperature displayed on the weather forecast, he habitually tilted his head and reminded her warmly.
"The temperature is gradually dropping. In a few days, it won't be suitable to wear such thin dresses anymore, or you'll easily catch a cold."
"I know. But Mr. Rrakavasha, you... it's nothing... be safe, I'll wait for you to come back." The young woman didn't finish what she wanted to say.
Rrakavasha nodded and headed straight out toward the back mountain.
Watching his tall, slender figure disappear from view, Clarice's thoughts churned.
She didn't understand why, every winter, he would at most throw on that white coat or a jacket without adding more layers.
At first, she'd thought he had a strong constitution and wasn't bothered by severe cold.
Later, she learned that when it snowed, his hands were very cold, almost like ice.
Clearly, he wasn't immune to the harsh cold.
With this in mind, Clarice made a decision.
She would enroll in a handicraft class and personally knit warm clothing as this year's birthday gift for him.
Things like warm sweaters and scarves.