You could predict them, as long as you didn't force them.
"Jurion," she called out softly.
He stopped at the door, brows twitching slightly in irritation. He turned halfway, enough to see her walking up to him, her small hands clasped behind her back.
"What?" His tone was flat and defensive for some reason.
"I heard you go to the library every morning," she said with a small smile, voice polite but steady. "Can I come too? I like books."
Jurion blinked once. Then again. His lips parted as if to reply, but no sound came. For a moment, she thought he might say no. But instead, he sighed.
"Do whatever you want."
And he turned the knob, pushing open the door with one hand.
The Evans family library was a world of its own. Two floors tall, it stretched the entire length of the east wing, sunlight spilling through high arched windows.
Shelves lined the walls, filled with old leather-bound tomes and modern hardcovers alike. A brass spiral staircase coiled upward toward the balcony that ringed the upper level.
For a boy his age, Jurion had impeccable taste; the large oak desk by the window bore no trace of childish clutter.
Only a few notebooks, a fountain pen, a cup of cooling coffee, and a single half-open textbook.
Esme stepped in, her eyes widening slightly. Not from awe, but from habit. Every room, every inch, was worth memorizing.
"It's beautiful," she murmured.
Jurion dropped into his seat, flipping through his notebook with a dull expression. "You say that about every library?"
"I don't go to many," she replied easily. "The orphanage had a few shelves, but they were mostly old fairy tales and torn encyclopedias."
Her tone was casual, but the way she said it made him glance up for the first time.
Her eyes were clear, light brown with a faint amber hue. They didn't look pitiful; if anything, they seemed amused by his reaction.
"Then what makes you think you'll find anything fun here?"
"I'm not looking for fun," she said simply, walking along the nearest shelf. "I'm looking to learn."
That answer silenced him for a while.
The air grew still, broken only by the occasional turn of a page.
The scent of aged paper and ink filled the quiet, a peaceful yet oddly tense silence stretching between them.
Esme's fingers brushed over the spines of the books, trailing down until she found one on botany.
She pulled it out, blew off a faint layer of dust, and carried it to a nearby chair.
For a while, she read quietly, her head slightly tilted, her expression soft but focused.
Jurion tried to study, but his attention kept flickering toward her. The girl was strange, not talkative, not shy, and not overly polite like Tatiana tried to be when she wanted something.
Esme was… comfortable.
She didn't seem to care whether he ignored her or not.
It was starting to feel slightly irritating.
"You're making it hard for me to concentrate," he finally said.
"Why?" she asked without looking up.
"Because you're too quiet."
She blinked once, slowly. "Would you prefer I talk instead?"
Jurion frowned. "No."
"Then focus."
He stared at her, speechless for a second. No one ever talked to him like that.
His tutors, his parents, even his brothers, they all tiptoed around his moods, afraid of his laziness, his unpredictability.
But this girl, this orphan girl, had the nerve to tell him to focus.
And strangely enough, it worked.
For the next half hour, he actually studied.
The scratching of his pen mixed with the soft rustle of pages turning from Esme's side of the room.
Morning sunlight shifted across the carpet, painting gold across her hair. Occasionally, her lips moved faintly as she read under her breath, sounding out words she didn't know.
Jurion caught himself glancing at her again.
"Do you even understand that?" he asked, gesturing at her book.
"A bit," she replied. "Enough to be interested."
He rolled his eyes. "It's a high-level reference text. Even Ace can't read that without getting bored."
She smiled faintly. "Then maybe Ace and I aren't the same."
Her calm confidence startled him. "You're what, ten? Eleven?"
"Eleven."
"Then stop acting like an adult."
"Why?"
"Because it's weird."
She shut the book, finally looking up. Her eyes locked on his with an unreadable expression, sharp and soft all at once.
"Maybe I don't want to be a child."
Jurion didn't know how to answer that. Something in her voice sounded far older than her years, not arrogant, just… tired.
"Whatever," he muttered. "Just don't touch my notes."
"I wasn't planning to," she said lightly, and went back to reading.
Hours passed.
By noon, the sunlight dimmed under a passing cloud. The silence between them had changed, no longer awkward, but oddly comfortable.
Jurion found himself explaining parts of his math book when he noticed her frowning at a passage. At first, he was dismissive.
Then, gradually, he began speaking more, sketching examples on a scrap of paper while she watched closely.
"See, the variables cancel out here," he said, tapping the paper. "If you move this term—"
"—It simplifies the whole equation," she finished softly.
He paused. "…You really are quick."
She gave him a small, knowing smile. "I like solving puzzles."
"Math isn't a puzzle."
"Isn't it? Everything in life is, really."
He stared at her again. "You're strange."
"I get that a lot."
When Dylan peeked into the library around two in the afternoon, he nearly dropped his cup of tea.
"Whoa! Jurion, you're studying? With company?"
Jurion threw him a deadpan look. "You sound too shocked, Uncle."
"I am!" Dylan said, grinning. "Usually, the only thing you study is how to avoid studying."
Esme glanced up from her book and gave him the tiniest smile. "Maybe he just needed the right motivation."
Dylan blinked. "Oh no. Don't tell me you're training him now?"
"Training implies he's resisting," Esme said lightly. "He's cooperating just fine."