Chapter 8

Following Wylie's footsteps down the stairs, the moment the basement door swung open, Wylie froze for a second, then crouched down to rummage through something on the floor, completely disregarding any sense of etiquette.

I leaned forward to take a look, and saw that what had shattered on the ground was a small sculpture of a kitten playing with a fluffy ball.

The kitten was one we had raised together, and the sculpture was something Wylie and I had made together – it was his first and only time trying his hand at sculpting.

Later, when Aria moved in, she was allergic to cat hair and demanded that Wylie get rid of the kitten. I disagreed.

A few days later, the kitten suddenly fell ill and passed away. Along with it, the sculpture was sent down to the basement by Wylie, under the pretense of it bringing back memories of the cat.

But now, the little cat was broken.

I suddenly remembered the sound of something shattering that I'd heard a few days ago when leaving the basement.