[Kazuha]

The door closed quietly, but in the silence of the apartment the sound seemed too sharp. Scaramuccia put the box with the cake and the bag with the bottle of wine on the nightstand and took off his coat.

"Happy birthday," he said, almost casually, but there was still a warm note in his voice. "I baked the cake myself. And I bought the red wine you like."

Kazuha smiled, but warily. He stood by the window, the lantern light casting streaks across his face.

"You... baked it yourself?" he asked.

"Yes. Don't make that face, I'm not completely hopeless," Scaramuccia chuckled and reached into his jacket's inside pocket. "And also... I didn't know what to give you."

He placed a neat wad of bills on the table. A lot. Too many to be conspicuous.

"There are tens of thousands of moras here. If you want, we can go right now and buy you whatever you want."

The silence became dense.

Kazuha slowly walked up to the table, looked at the money, then looked up.

• Take it away.

• What?

"Take it away," Kazuha's voice wavered, but became harsher. "I don't need your money."

Scaramuccia frowned.

"This isn't 'my' money. It's a gift."

"No," Kazuha exhaled sharply. "It's charity. Or pity. Call it what you want."

"You're going too far," Scaramuccia folded his arms. "I earn money, you learn. It's normal to help."

"No," Kazuha raised his voice. "It's not normal for people to buy me. It's like they're saying, 'You're unemployed, take this, you need it more.'"

• I didn't say that.

"But I hear it!" Kazuha turned away, clenching his fists. "I want to succeed on my own. On my own. Without hiding behind your profits and your status."