The boy's footsteps were light.
His heart was clearly racing.
Yet he seemed worried about something, afraid of something...
He didn't walk quickly.
One step at a time, with a pause between each.
He moved with utmost care.
His whole body was tense.
The boy was getting closer and closer to the figure.
His heart beat faster and faster.
The sound of his heartbeat grew louder and louder.
He couldn't help putting a hand to his chest.
He wanted to quiet his heartbeat a little.
A few hints of confusion appeared in the boy's eyes.
He was already so close.
Why hadn't the figure on the swing noticed him at all?
Why wasn't she looking up?
A few threads of irritation and anxiety rose in the boy's heart.
The boy stopped.
He stood in front of the figure.
The familiar scent made him freeze for several seconds, and he became even more certain of the figure's identity...
It was the same scent he had smelled only on Big Sister.
He couldn't say exactly what kind of flower it was...
Of course, he didn't know much about perfume, either.
He had only once caught a glimpse of the perfume on Mom's vanity through the crack of an open door as he passed the master bedroom.
The bottle was exquisitely made.
Very pretty.
And it smelled lovely.
Mom always smelled nice.
She had also worn many different scents.
But he had truly smelled the scent on Big Sister only on Big Sister.
It was special.
It smelled wonderful.
The boy took a deep breath.
His tense fingertips had gone pale.
He opened his mouth.
But no sound came out.
He touched his neck.
He tried to work up the courage.
He opened his mouth again—
The figure