Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

October had given way to the chill, the trees shedding their leaves that crackled and blew about in the cool air. It was raining that night, the moon obstructed by the storm clouds, and Carla was seated at her desk, tapping her pencil with an impatience she could not quell no matter what. She looked at the clock. 

He’d promised her. He promised he would have supper with her tonight, but he canceled on her at the last minute, as she suspected he would. Why even bother inviting her over for the autumn holiday she received from school if he wasn’t planning to spend any time with her? And there were excuses. Always some excuse he had prepared whenever she grew short with him. 

Work was difficult to manage. He had other responsibilities he could not put off. He arrived home too late and hadn’t wanted to wake her. He fell to bed before he could do anything else. Every excuse she’d heard before, each one fueling her temper more than the last. She had half a mind to grab her things and leave since Father was not going to even bother, but something kept her up that particular night. Whether insomnia or simply being too angry to sleep, Carla sat at her desk until the clock struck midnight, and not a moment sooner, her door flung open, Father appearing flabbergasted that she was still awake. 

“Carla,” he began, but she waved him off. 

“You’re busy. I’ve heard it before. I don’t need to hear it again.” 

“There are matters I cannot neglect. I will make it up to you. I promise.” 

Unable to help it, Carla rolled her eyes. “You said so last night as well. I’m leaving in the morning, though you probably wouldn’t even notice.” 

Father’s eyes grew wide, his shoulders drooping. “Do not do that, Carla, I beg of you. I swear if you give me more time that I will make it up to you. Be patient with your poor father.” 

Being patient was all she’d done since being home, yet Father had stretched her as thin as she could possibly go, until she stood away from her desk, shaking her head. Whether she left or not wouldn’t even matter. “I’ll think about it,” was what she left him with. 

Father retired to bed soon afterward, leaving Carla alone to marinate in her thoughts until sleep finally took hold. She really was prepared to pack her things and leave that very next morning, but the moment she awoke, she was greeted by her father opening the door to rouse her. 

“Good morning,” he said, already dressed and seemingly preparing for a business trip. Carla was shocked he’d even bothered to tell her goodbye. Father smiled. “Come down for breakfast. I have a surprise for you. I’ve been working nonstop all night.” 

A bit curious now, Carla arose and dressed, making certain her hair was combed and her face was washed before she met with Father downstairs. He was already seated at the table, his smile widened to a grin. She’d been begging him for countless days to have a meal with her, and Carla was finally getting her wish. 

Breakfast was rather uneventful, other than Father prattling about his work, but Carla made the effort to keep invested so long as he wanted to talk. This was the most her father had spoken to her in weeks, and she wasn’t about to squander it. The food was delicious and hearty, Father’s chatter rather calming, and Carla hadn’t realized she even smiled some as they conversed. When Father wanted to, he could be quite engaging and even funny, though it was rare. 

Once breakfast was finished, Carla stood from her chair, already knowing that Father would leave soon for work, though she was still contemplating whether she should take the train back or not. “Will you be leaving now?” 

Father nodded, as she suspected. “Yes, but before that, come—there’s something I must show you.” With one hand, Father placed a palm to her back before leading her out of the dining hall and up the stairs. To her confusion, he steered her toward his work study, the place a mess as it tended to be. Many of his tools were placed haphazardly about, a lot of them probably freshly used, though her attention drew to the white sheet that covered something by his desk. Carla started, taking pause when Father left her side to approach the sheet. 

“What’s that?” she asked. 

Rather than answer, Father smiled, giving the sheet a good tug where it cascaded to the ground, revealing what was underneath. At first, Carla was struck dumb by what she saw, being unable to comprehend other than this being one of Father’s eccentric side projects, because—

It was a puppet. She assumed. A puppet that looked quite unlike anything she’d ever seen her Father create, but even from where she stood, Carla took in the details that were immediately noticeable. It was a boy—a boy that looked exactly like her, save for some obvious differences, mainly the shorter hair, broader shoulders, and she even caught the sight of freckles dotting his serene face. He did not move. Not even as Father gave Carla time to process just what she was looking at. Seated in a chair, the boy’s tilted head and closed eyes gave the impression he was asleep, the long eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks. The sight was nothing short of unnerving. 

Words failed her for a long time while she stared at the puppet, unsure what to make of it, until finally, “A puppet?” 

Father nodded. “I wanted to surprise you with him.” 

Carla crossed her arms, approaching the frozen boy with hesitance. He looked so lifelike, it was quite uncanny. “Why does it look like me?” 

“I did not think it would cause any harm. My first prototype was to create a sibling of sorts for you, but you do not have to think of him as such. He can be a companion and nothing else.” 

She cringed slightly, unsure why at first. “So why is it a boy?” 

“Do not call him an it, Carla.” Rather than answer her question, he moved close to the puppet where he began to fumble with some sort of mechanism under the shirt on top of the chest. Carla watched with some cautious curiosity, very put off by the fact Father had avoided her question entirely, but she stood with her arms crossed while the puppet’s eyes fluttered open. He looked on as if dazed and groggy from a deep sleep, his vacant stare momentarily landing on Carla who watched Father instead. Those eyes made her uncomfortable for some reason. 

“And there,” Father said, patting the chest before he fixed the ruffled shirt back to its place. “He should be well off to function by himself. I just laid down the finishing touches last night.” 

Carla waited for the puppet to speak, but he continued looking around the room as though not having the slightest idea where he was. She’d never seen a puppet so inquisitive before, as most knew their purpose the moment Father imprinted the Grand Covenant upon them, so to watch one appearing at quite a loss was somewhat pitiable. “You made this in one night?” 

Father threw his head back, emitting a roaring laugh that caused Carla to startle when she hadn’t expected it. “Of course not. I’ve been building him for months. It might even be a year now.” 

She stole a glance at the puppet who looked at Father, staring up at him as though fighting through some sort of brain fog to try and figure out who he was. “Why?” 

“So that you would have companionship while I’m gone.” 

Her stomach churned at the idea, the realization that Father was essentially relieving what were supposed to be his own responsibilities onto a mere puppet. Without meaning to, she let slip, “You’d rather make me a toy than have supper with me?” 

“Do not call him a toy. He is not an it, he is not a toy. He is unlike any puppet I’ve ever created before, and may be my greatest creation to date. I urge you to treat him like a person.”

There was plenty Carla would rather do than entertain one of Father’s harebrained schemes this way, so she crossed her arms, scoffing at the puppet who stepped away from his chair. Before she could respond, the puppet turned to Father, tilting his head much like a curious cat would. 

“Father?” he asked, both Carla and Father giving pause, Carla more so because his voice was unlike any puppet’s she’d ever heard. Most of them had noticeable synthetic voices that any layman could tell weren’t real, but his—she bit her lower lip, taking a step away from him, all the more put off. His voice was too real. The inflections. The clarity. The borderline musical tone in his question. He shouldn’t have sounded so lifelike.

Father was taken aback for only a moment before laughing sheepishly, soon clapping a hand to the puppet’s shoulders. “If you would like to call me Father, then you may. I suppose it’s only fitting after all, seeing as I created you. How do you feel?”

The puppet looked down at his own hands, his curious, lidded stare lowering to his body as he studied himself over. As though truly unable to comprehend how he was even moving, he gave a slow nod. “I feel good.” 

Father was pleased. “Try not to push your body too much. You may require some additional work if you overexert yourself. Keep mindful.”

The puppet nodded. “Yes, Father.”

Carla cringed at the way this puppet so brazenly said the word Father, without a hint of irony. She grit her teeth, turning to walk from the room if only to quell her temper when Father called out, “Wait. Say hello.”

She turned just as the puppet did, his eyes lighting up in some off-putting recognition when they caught sight of one another, and he gave a polite bow. “Hello,” he said.

As much as she hated feeding any of Father’s annoying schemes, as much as she loathed the fact he had created this puppet to keep her company, knowing he would be away and leave her home alone, Carla forced some cordiality at least and gave a flippant flick of her wrist as a backhanded wave. 

“Hello. Does it have a name?” 

Father frowned, his brow pinched when he addressed her. “Carla, do not call him an it. I won’t tolerate hearing you say it again.”

She huffed, aggravated how Father always avoided the important questions in favor of reprimanding her. “Fine—what’s his name?” Even bending over backwards for Father in this instance gave her a bitter taste in her mouth. 

“I have not given him a name yet. You may name him if it pleases you.”

It didn’t. 

Carla glanced off at the puppet once more who stared between her and Father, not saying a word, but when he turned to her as though expecting her to follow through with Father’s request, Father soon crossed the space to meet Carla’s side, bending down where he kissed her cheek. 

“I must go. Be kind to him. He is still learning. I will return for supper.”

She doubted that. The moment Father exited the room, leaving her alone with the puppet, Carla reached up to wipe the spot on her cheek where he just kissed, crossing her arms before she spied the puppet staring at her again. He seemed to be awaiting something from her, such as Father’s suggestion to give him a name, though rather than do that, Carla rolled her eyes and took a step back, making way for the door. 

“Wait,” the puppet said, reaching out to stop her. 

She glared. “What?”

He didn’t appear put off by her attitude, not in the least. He only stared on with vacant eyes. “What is your name?”

Carla frowned. “Shouldn’t you know that already? Figured you would have some sort of protocol imprinted. Father said it in front of you. Were you not listening?” 

Tilting his head to the side, the puppet’s stare intensified, causing Carla to flinch slightly at the fact it was too uncanny. How was this puppet so lifelike and yet so off at the same time? “I do not understand what you mean by protocol. Father—”

“Don’t call him that. He’s not your father.” 

The puppet gave a start, his eyes widening with the first signs of unrest Carla could sense, and she felt a pang of guilt surface at what she knew was a cruel thing to say, but—what right had this thing to call him Father? None. 

Shifting on his feet, the puppet looked utterly lost now, glancing from Carla to random objects about the room, until finally, “I-I am sorry. I do not know what else to call him. He did say your name, you are right. He did say your name. I still did not catch it.” 

She frowned, crossing her arms and stared on in rather blatant contempt, not wanting to entertain this thing, but whatever wore her down then, Carla spat, “My name is Carla,” if only to be done with this conversation. 

The puppet’s face brightened some, the slight hint of a smile teasing his lips, putting her off all the more. “Carla? That is a pretty name.” 

She gave pause. Only for a moment. For this thing to sound so genuine—it fueled her spite, leaving her aggravated with Father all over again. Rather than reply, she turned on her heels and left the room, giving not a single care what this puppet did with his time. 

Fog had risen by early afternoon, leaving Carla dreary alongside it, especially when one glance out the window revealed impending storm clouds and darkness. She did not hate the rain, but she hadn’t seen a blue sky in so long, even Carla was becoming depressed with need for the sun. 

She sat upon a sofa in the parlor, propped up on a pillow with her knees tucked under her, currently engrossed in a book. With the seasons changing, along with the weather becoming quite dour, she fancied reading something macabre, knowing it would help ease some of her anger with Father. It helped a little. 

Her peace was interrupted by the arrival of the puppet who strode into the parlor right as the rain began to fall outside and splatter the window. Carla was brought from her trance in an instant, hating that the puppet could interrupt her without even saying a thing. She lifted her face from her book to see him staring down at her, trying to catch which book she was reading. 

“What,” she spat, the word thrust out as a biting statement rather than a question. 

The puppet did not appear to notice. “What are you reading?” 

“A book.” 

“Yes, I can see that. Which one?” 

She drew her legs out from under herself, letting them dangle over the edge of the sofa before closing her book after marking her place, handing it to him without answering. 

He studied the worn leather cover, clarity finally washing over the initial consternation. “Oh—do you like horror?” 

Carla shrugged, folding her arms across her chest as she glared up at him. “You know, it’s rude to interrupt someone while they’re reading.” 

“I am sorry.” He quickly handed the book back to her, actually appearing bothered he’d upset her. “I-I did not mean to disturb you.” 

“You did.” She waved him off with a flick of her wrist while peeling the book back open. “Leave me alone. Go do something.” 

“Okay.” The puppet exited the parlor then, a definite haste in his step while he left her in some peace, and Carla hated that she felt guilty for treating him so curtly, but—

She shook her head, resuming her reading. He was just a puppet. Did he really possess feelings? No, he didn’t. He was simply one of Father’s side projects in which he lived out the fantasy of having a son rather than a daughter. 

That was all. 

The storm cast the villa under a shadow of utter darkness once the sun had set. Carla had to rely on lamplight to aid her in her reading, but by then, she waited for Father to show his face. If she had reservations about him keeping his promise before, there was little chance of him gambling a storm like this, so it was no small shock when supper came and went with no hide or hair of Father in sight. 

Carla knew he wouldn’t show. And yet, she still sulked by the window, watching the rain trickle down the glass panes, wishing the small sound was comforting. It offered her nothing but more spite to fuel her temper. 

The door to her bedroom opened, and she turned to see the puppet enter, upon which she immediately snapped, “You knock before you come into a girl’s room.” 

The puppet gave a start, quickly stepping back outside to shut the door where he then gave a (now useless) small, apprehensive knock. Had Carla not been so angry with Father for leaving her hanging, she would have laughed at it. The puppet waited for a few seconds after knocking before slowly pushing the door open where he poked his head through. “Forgive me—I was not thinking.” 

She already knew that much. Carla crossed her arms as the puppet entered her room, standing in the doorway with some very awkward hesitance. She frowned. “What do you want?”

“You have not eaten supper.”

“So? I’m not hungry.”

The puppet glanced about nervously, just short of twiddling his fingers. How odd for a puppet to display such realistic behaviors. Father truly went all out in creating this thing, though for what purpose that was meant to serve other than to unnerve her, Carla didn’t know. “I-I realize you have not eaten much all day. You have been waiting for Father to return.”

She nearly flew up out of her seat. “I said don’t call him that!” To hear this thing refer to her father as if he was indeed his son—Carla couldn’t stand hearing him say such a thing so nonchalantly, unless that indeed was an unfortunate ploy of her father to create this puppet to be a son of sorts. She scoffed, shaking her head to turn away from him. The fact he looked so much like her made her all the more angry. Why would Father do this? Why create a puppet so lifelike that it could mimic all the mannerisms and emotions of a real person? 

And why make it look like her? To torment her? To remind her that Father preferred to have a son? She didn’t know. 

“I am sorry, Carla. I did not mean to upset you. I only came to ask if you would like to have supper with me instead.”

Admittedly, that made her perk, Carla turning to face the puppet who shrunk under her gaze. Curiosity gripped her only enough for her to ask, “You can eat?”

He nodded, his stance implying he was remaining cautious in case he upset her again. “Yes, I can eat. Would you like to have supper with me?”

At first, Carla was poised to reject him with a hefty no, but something stopped her then, something she couldn’t pinpoint. Staring at this puppet now, as he stood in her doorway, trying to please her in some meager attempt that left her annoyed with him all over again, she hated that some small part of her was curious. She had no interest in entertaining Father’s whims when it involved choosing his work over spending time with her, but she was exhausted from steeping in a bad mood all day long, and really—having a meal with this puppet wouldn’t hurt matters. She could stand to play along, at least until she ate something, because she was a bit hungry. Not that the puppet needed to know that. 

She bit her lower lip as he awaited her response, until Carla heaved a sigh, her shoulders drooping along with it. Was she really going to sacrifice her pride for a puppet? Yes. Just this once. Still, she hated it. 

“Fine,” she spat, noting the way the puppet’s face lit up, not at all expecting for her to go along with him. 

He even smiled a little. “Ah—really?” 

“Just this once.” She still wasn’t certain if she was going to leave and take the train back tomorrow or not. Part of her wanted to hold out hope that Father would return eventually to disport her a little, but she knew deep down that he would come up with some excuse why he couldn’t be there. That left her to deal with this puppet, something she was not at all enamored with doing. But for now. 

As she made way for the door to walk past him, he held his hand out, meant for her to take, which she promptly refused. “No. I don’t need to be escorted to the dining hall.”

Closing his hand to return to his side, the puppet looked about as though embarrassed he had offered, his shoulders falling. “Oh. Forgive me. I thought it was polite to lead a lady by the hand.”

Carla sighed as they walked in lockstep down the hallway toward the stairs. “It is in public. Rather useless in a house, don’t you think?” She meant that to be rhetorical, but the puppet nodded. 

“I suppose that makes sense.” 

When they reached the dining hall, Carla was somewhat surprised when the puppet hurried to pull her chair out for her, looking over as though awaiting her approval, and part of her didn’t want to give it. But. She grumbled about it regardless, sinking down into the chair where she breathed a quiet, “Thank you,” that barely pushed through her gritted teeth. 

The puppet sat at her side, folding his hands neatly in his lap while the servant puppets began filing in to serve the courses. Carla would have rather done this while Father was home, but she supposed eating with someone, even if that someone was a puppet, bore no harm. The moment she was presented with wine, Carla drank half her glass in one gulp. 

The puppet watched on as if fascinated. He too was served wine, though sipped from his glass as though unable to discern the taste of it. 

Carla placed her wine to the side for another serving. “So that won’t break anything if you drink it?”

The puppet tilted his head and when he did, Carla could make out his long eyelashes under the light from the overhead chandelier, even taking note that his eyes were the same color as Father’s. She would never, ever admit it to him, but he was quite cute. Did that make her vain? “I do not understand.”

Carla pointed with one finger at his chest. “Your insides. Will drinking and eating break anything inside of you?”

He shook his head. “No. I will be fine.” Then he smiled. “Thank you for your concern.”

Carla immediately reeled back in her chair, almost bumping into a maid who passed behind her to place a plate of food on the table. “I’m not concerned about you. I’m just curious since you’re a puppet.”

“Oh.” The smile fell. And Carla felt guilty again, but not enough to apologize. Why should she? This puppet’s mimicry of emotion wasn’t genuine. He was just copying what others did. It wasn’t as if she could hurt his feelings, because he didn’t have any. “That is understandable. I do not quite know how to explain, but I am capable of a lot. Even if I do not require food for the sustenance, I can taste it and it feels satisfying to eat.”

Carla hummed from the back of her throat, blushing for some reason as she lifted her fork to pick away at her pasta. There were only a few mouthfuls at the most, a bigger course on the way, yet she still ate with a scorn she couldn’t swallow. She hadn’t wanted to humor this puppet at first, but she wondered if Father would care at all that he was missing out on a nice meal like this—probably not. 

“Carla?”

She gave a small start when the puppet said her name, looking up from her pasta to see he was staring at her. He did that a lot, she noticed, and it put her off. “What?” she hissed, grabbing another forkful of pasta. “Will you stop staring at me? It’s creepy.”

The puppet quickly looked down at his own plate where he’d managed to nibble at a few olives. “I am sorry. I had a question.”

“What.” 

He lifted his head without looking at her. “Will you please give me a name?”

Without meaning to, Carla snorted a sound that was more an incredulous mockery than a real laugh, unable to believe this puppet was asking her for such a thing. “Why? Surely you’d rather Father do the honors?”

The puppet shook his head. “I do not think he will do so. I really would like to have one.”

Another plate was served to Carla that contained lobster, one of her favorites, and she wasted little time in breaking open the shell to tear at the contents. She didn’t bother acknowledging the puppet during her first few bites, until she realized he was awaiting a reply, then she shook her head. “Maybe ask for one when Father returns. If he returns. There’s no telling with him.”

“But can you not give me one?”

She crushed the tail apart. “Why would I? Father made you, not me. You’re his little hobby.” It wasn’t as if Father ever bothered to name the puppets around the house, as they were merely servants and nothing more. Half of them could not even hold a conversation beyond basic commands, and the other half were so entrenched in their duties that they may as well have been machines and nothing more. Why would this puppet even want a name? Granted, he could talk very convincingly as a person would, but there was still something off about him that put Carla on edge. 

He persisted. “Please?” 

The last mouthful of her lobster was bitter on her tongue, enough that Carla huffed an aggravated sigh before she leaned back in her chair, thoroughly put off. She glared across at the puppet who avoided eye contact, yet if only to cease his pleas, she relented. “Fine. What kind of name do you want?” She still failed to see why he couldn’t do this himself. 

The puppet’s face lit up some, just short of smiling. “O-oh—whatever you want.” 

Of course he would leave it entirely up to her. Carla never was good at naming things, having remembered a few silly little names for her dolls she used to have when she was a child, remembering her mother once had a black cat named Figaro that passed away before Carla had gotten too old, but other than that, she was quite at a loss too. She thought back to a few of her dolls Mama would tuck into bed with her when she’d been quite small, her favorite one being a little wooden doll Father had made for her then. The doll had been dressed with an outfit Mama sewed herself, a ruffled collar with a pointed hat, and Mama affectionately gave the doll a nickname when Carla had been too young to say longer names. 

Before she could stop herself, having remembered this doll in that moment, Carla blurted, “Pio,” without really meaning it. 

But the puppet’s eyes brightened, his whole body lifting with it. “Pio? That is cute.”

She hadn’t entirely been serious, but to know such a silly name had gripped him from the start made her sink in her chair, and she resumed eating her lobster. “Then you can be Pio. I used to have a doll named that.”

“I like it.”

At least this meant she wouldn’t have to present a list for him, though as childish as it was, she hated to admit that the name suited him somewhat. If he was happy (or mimicking happiness), then she would leave it at that. 

The storm continued overhead that night, well after they finished supper, and Carla retired to bed, satisfied from the meal but lamenting the absence of her father. She fell asleep less angry with him, but no less disappointed.

Chapter Text

Carla awoke to the sunlight peeking through the curtains, a sight that put her in better spirits the moment she felt the warmth of it graze her cheeks. Lifting from bed, she checked the time to see it was quite early enough, and contemplated packing her things since Father never returned. He was probably at the workshop, toiling away with his projects. 

It made her frown, which then made it easier to stand from bed, wash, dress, and slide her trunk from under the bed to begin packing. She hadn’t made much progress when a knock came at her door, rousing her from her grumbling somewhat. “Come in,” she said, already knowing who it was. 

Sure enough, the door opened to reveal Pio who peeked his head through, taking an apprehensive step inside. “Good morning,” he greeted politely, then he noticed the trunk upon her bed. “What are you doing?” 

“Packing.” Another dress was tossed in, Carla too incensed to fold it properly. She could worry about that once she was back at the Charity House. 

“Why?” 

Part of her hadn’t wanted to unleash any grievances about her father to a puppet of all things, but she’d rather an unfeeling machine take the brunt of that than a real person. Carla huffed an annoyed sound. “Because my father can’t keep his promises. He promised we’d have supper together and he never showed, never even sent word, so I doubt he’ll care should I leave.” 

“Oh.” Pio shifted on his feet, yet another uncanny mannerism of his that rubbed her the wrong way. It was one thing for the servants to perform their duties like the mindless machines they were, but this puppet could do so many things real people did, all the way down to their idiosyncrasies, that had Carla not known he was a puppet, she would have mistaken him for a real boy. “I am sorry. Would you like to have breakfast with me instead? We could go for a walk in the garden afterward.” He gave a shy smile. “It is a beautiful day.” 

With her nightgown shoved into the trunk, Carla stole a glance in Pio’s direction, eyeing him up and down from his lidded, hopeful eyes to his nervous stance. She couldn’t help it. She spat out, “We’re not friends. You’re just a side project of Father’s, one of his little throwaways should he grow bored of you. I don’t need a damn puppet to keep me company when I have plenty of friends at school.” 

“But.” He looked about as though fighting hard for something to say, twiddling his fingers nervously. “I-I do not want you to leave.” 

She gave pause, one hand on her hip. “And why not?” She’d done nothing but brush him off and mock him since he first stood out of that chair. She gave him very little reason to implore her not to leave. “Because Father made you that way?” 

“No.” He looked at his feet, shifting back and forth while avoiding eye contact. “Because I think you would feel better if someone was there to eat with you and walk with you. It does not have to be your father, does it?” 

“I would prefer it if I had nothing at all to do with my father’s make-believe puppet children.” She glared. “And stop pretending as if you have feelings. You don’t. You’re just a puppet that's doing what it’s been told. You don’t actually care how I feel. You’re just reacting the way Father meant for you to.” 

The expression that came over his face was not one Carla expected. He flinched at her harsh words, staring at her in disbelief before his eyes shone with a glassy sadness that he quickly averted from her sight to stare at some random object beyond her. He said nothing for a long time, as though unable to comprehend her vitriol, but he gathered himself soon enough. 

“I-I do have feelings. I understand that you hate me, but I cannot help how your father made me. I did not ask to be created. He did not give me any guidance before waking me up.” He lowered his head. “I hate that he has made you feel this way. I only wish to help.” 

“And why do you feel compelled to do such a thing?” Carla abandoned her trunk in favor of facing him fully, crossing her arms when she did so. “It shouldn’t matter to you what I choose to do with my time, or who I spend that time with. Alone or not, don’t you have some other measures Father imprinted onto you? You have no reason whatsoever to give a single care about me when I have nothing to offer.”

Pio raised his head, that glassiness still noticeable enough that it reflected the sun’s rays from the window behind her. “I wish to help because I like you.”

Every nerve in her brain blanked out when he said that, Carla unable to stop the small sputter from the back of her own throat, and she could only stare on in incredulity, not quite sure she’d heard him correctly. She shook her head, blinking a few times to make absolutely certain she was awake, which she was, before she regarded him again. 

“Pardon? You like me?”

He nodded, a small, shy smile forming that he quickly let fall. “Yes.” 

She frowned, put off now more than ever. “I’ve given you zero reason to like me.” 

Pio shook his head. “That is not true. I understand you are short with your father for how he has left you alone. And he has left you with me. Of course you do not like me. I do not blame you when I deserve it.”

The way he said that—her chest tightened somewhat, and before she could stop herself, she cut him off, “I never said you deserved it,” not really thinking in that moment how she was setting herself up for the blame. But it was true. She was to blame for how she treated him.

He perked. “Oh. But I do. I thought I did.”

“No, you—” What was she doing? One moment Carla was snapping at him for being an unfeeling puppet only following his protocol, and now she was making excuses for him because she felt bad for being so cruel as if a puppet would understand that. She shook her head, more aggravated at herself than anything right now. Looking toward her trunk, she heaved a great sigh before glancing to the window one last time. 

It really was a nice day. It would be a shame to spend it cooped up in a train for hours on end. Even if Father never showed his face, she could postpone her leave for a bit longer, if only to enjoy the sunshine for once. She’d been griping about it the day before, so now wasn’t the time to squander it when days like these were going to become rarer as winter settled in. 

When a silence stretched on for several seconds too long, Carla nearly jolted when her stomach growled then, loud enough that Pio could hear it, and she caught the subtle sounds of a small laugh coming from the back of his throat. It made her turn, having not expected him to laugh. Yet another oddly humanistic response from him. 

Father really outdid himself with this puppet. 

Pio’s smile was much wider this time. “You are hungry. Please have breakfast with me. And we can walk in the garden if you would like. The rain from last night has covered everything in dew. It is very pretty.”

Carla huffed, still thinking about what he’d said, thinking he’d deserved her temper thrown at him. Why would he say that? Now she felt bad. And she felt stupid that she felt bad. God—he was just a puppet. His feelings weren’t real, even if he claimed to have them. She couldn’t actually hurt him. He was just acting. Mimicking. Pretending. 

But even still, she was hungry, hungry enough to bury the spite and think of the garden under the warmth of the sun. It wouldn’t kill her to humor him for a little while longer, at least until she decided to pack her things and leave, preferably soon enough. 

For now, she faced him, and sighed, trying to let go of her bitterness. “Fine. If you insist.”

His face lit up, along with his eyes brightening. “I-I do! May I hold your hand this time? I know you say it is silly to escort you, but I have always wanted to lead a lady by the arm.”

Something about that struck her in an odd way, Carla not certain why, or how, but Pio’s excitement, as though he were a child, gripped her chest, made her calmer than she’d been in days, and she felt her body release a weight of sorts when she gave in, not seeing the harm. She nodded, feeling embarrassed she was letting a puppet lead her around like this, but… he seemed so excited. She didn’t have the heart to tell him no again. 

“Alright,” she said, refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge her own silliness. None of this even mattered, but she felt watched and judged by some invisible crowd as she offered her hand, which Pio took hold of gently, cupping her palm in his. Carla gave a start when he did, because—he was warm. 

Had a puppet ever cast warmth like this? She didn’t think they were capable. The softness of his hand caught her off guard as well, enough that she was struck entirely dumb when Pio lifted her hand then, placing a cordial kiss to her knuckles. Even his lips were soft, the careful tenderness in which he handled her as though she were a delicate flower gripping her throat, which served to strangle her at the same time. 

She could only stare on, amazed and bewildered when she wasn’t expecting him to feel so—lifelike? He was unlike any puppet she’d ever laid eyes on, her shocked state lasting all the way down the stairs after he’d taken her arm to lead the way. He’d kissed her hand. Pio had bowed his head and kissed her hand like any other gentleman would. 

And it had been warm. Even now, with her arm looped around his, Carla could feel his body heat radiating right next to her, and it left her stupefied more than anything. What was this? For a split moment, she wasn’t even certain if he was a puppet or not, because he was so real then. He was real. 

She quickly gathered her thoughts when they entered the dining hall, Pio pulling her chair for her. “Thank you,” she said, much more amicably this time around. He smiled, taking the seat next to her where he folded his hands in his lap. He was so polite. Adorably so. 

Carla looked down at the surface of the table. Did she just call him adorable? Ugh. She needed to get a grip—it was a stupid puppet. Just because he was warm and kissed her hand and escorted her like a perfect gentleman and acted like a real boy and looked like a real boy and sounded like a real boy and—

Her face grew hot then, and Carla positively hated it. No, she knew he was just a puppet and nothing more. All this talk of liking her wasn’t real either. What reason had he to like her when she’d been as cold as she’d been? He was lying. Maybe trying to make her feel better, but that would imply he cared. 

This was making her aggravated all over again, which led Carla to pour all her energy into focusing on the food once it was delivered. They were served coffee and jam toast, a nice surprise this early in the morning, allowing Carla time to enjoy the meal for what it was. Pio sipped his coffee as though trying to figure out why it was so strong, and it was then that Carla realized something. 

She tilted her head toward his cup. “Can you taste?” 

He nodded. “It is bitter. I can taste that.” 

That was somewhat impressive, at least as far as her father’s handiwork was concerned. Truly he had gone above and beyond with this puppet for whatever reason, though Carla hated praising his work when that was the reason he was never around in the first place. 

She swallowed what jam was left in her mouth, taking another sip of her coffee. “Do you have a favorite flavor yet? If you’ve only been awake since yesterday, surely there’s a lot to explore?” 

Pio smiled, seeming moved that Carla was taking somewhat of an interest in him (and to be quite frank, she was also confused why she bothered asking these questions). “Your father had awakened me before to make certain I could move properly. I am familiar with a lot more than it seems, but eating food was not something he fussed over. I do like food. I can feel the heat and taste the flavor, but I am still figuring out which flavors I like best.” 

Carla glanced at one of his hands he had placed lazily to the table, a biscuit in his other. Without really knowing why, just operating on her curiosity, she reached over where she placed her palm atop his hand where his warmth radiated off him all over again. Her face was hot. 

“Can you feel this?” 

Pio smiled. “I can. You are warm.” 

If he wasn’t simply lying or pretending, Carla hated admitting this was mystifying. He truly was Father’s latest and greatest, but. She lifted his hand in hers then, paying little mind to the small gasp he made as he gave over to her whims, aiding her in lifting the weight away where she studied it for several seconds. She ran her fingers along his knuckles, noting how soft his skin was, and did it ever feel like the real thing. There was something off about it, as she still knew he was just a puppet, but even his fingernails looked lifelike. The blue veins under his skin only added to the illusion all the more, but Carla was fascinated by Father’s craft, having never seen a puppet like this before. 

Pio stayed silent as she held his hand, tracing the lines in his palm, marveling the heat that radiated off, and then she quickly pinched his skin between her fingers, gaining quite a startle from him. He only jolted somewhat, his brow pinching. 

“Ah—why did you do that?” 

Carla looked up, taken aback he had reacted at all. “You feel pain?” 

He nodded. “I do. That hurt.” 

“Sorry.” Leaving it at that, she let go of his hand, watching from her peripheral the rather confused expression he made as he stared from his cup back to Carla. He seemed to fumble for what to say, only to fail at thinking of a single word, the pair falling down into some rather awkward silence. Carla sat gazing absentmindedly at her plate, no longer interested in finishing her food. The fact Pio was so lifelike was uncanny. The fact he’d felt pain when she pinched him was too uncanny. 

Her chest tightened. A puppet who could feel. Truly remarkable. But even still, she sighed in her seat, Pio noticing. 

He perked back up, now that the tension had settled. “Would you like to walk in the garden?” 

Carla nodded. “If you insist, I suppose I’m obligated to say yes.” 

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head to the side, Carla soon sighing before she shook her head. 

“Never mind. I’ll go with you.” 

Before she could stand, Pio was at her side in an instant, awkwardly helping her push the chair away from the table before he offered his assistance, his smile rather shy. “May I take your hand again?” 

Carla nodded, trying to ignore the excited light in his eyes. He looked a little like Father, subtly so, she noticed, wondering if the design choice was intentional, but of course it was. Pio looked exactly like her save for their eye color and his freckles. Had they walked into town, Carla had no doubt they’d be mistaken for twins. 

Ignoring those thoughts for now, she took his hand as he helped her from her seat, soon looping his arm around hers where she made to cling to it. He really was warm. It made her want to move closer, but she didn’t dare, knowing he’d misconstrue her actions. 

They walked from the dining hall toward the front entrance, Pio taking a coat from the nearby rack before he draped it across her shoulders. She murmured a muffled thank you before they walked out the front door and into the chilly morning air. The sun was still shining, casting some warm light which Carla was grateful for as they walked about the bushes, past the fountain, and Pio hadn’t lied. The rain from the night before still clung to the leaves and grass, making everything sparkle in the sunlight. It was quite pretty. 

Carla enjoyed the sounds of the running fountain, taking the small moment Pio escorted her close to give pause and inhale the brisk air that wafted past the wet stone. It was nice. 

If only Father had bothered to do things like this with her. She would have enjoyed it more. At least if he gave a damn. Or pretended to. But instead, he’d left her alone with nothing but a puppet to keep her company, having not returned home the moment he let him loose, as that was the last time Carla had had a meal with him. She doubted he would come back at all for the remainder of the week. Not hearing from him for long periods of time was normal, but—something about forcing a puppet onto her shoulders gave her a bitter taste in her mouth. 

He could have put in the effort. Father could have stayed one measly day. But he didn’t. He’d rather work than spend time with his only daughter. 

Carla heaved a great sigh, closing her eyes to try and force the negative thoughts away, but there was little she could do when her mood had already soured. Thinking of Father was only going to make it worse, yet she couldn’t help it. Why didn’t he want to spend time with her? Was work really more fun than she was? 

Pio noticed her growing silence, tilting his head to the side. “Are you alright?”

Rather than respond immediately, Carla untangled her arm from his, shrinking into herself. Even worse than thinking of Father was thinking of this boy, and he gave her a worried glance when she turned to focus on the olive trees by the garden wall. 

“I just don’t understand why my father doesn’t want to come home to see me. He’d rather leave you to deal with his absence, as if that equals the same thing.”

Pio seemed unsure what to do with his hands now that she’d separated them. He kept shifting on his feet, back and forth, looking about here and there from the olive trees to the flower bushes. It was rather childlike in a strange way, as though he was so much at a loss that he couldn’t think of anything to do unless she participated. Probably Father’s influence. 

“I am sorry. I do not have much experience with your father as you do. The times he awakened me were to make certain I could walk and talk. And then I would go back to sleep.” Pio shifted again on his feet, awkwardly shuffling so much that Carla huffed through her nose at the fact he wouldn’t sit still. He continued. “Does he do this a lot?”

She nodded, crossing her arms to focus on the fountain instead. The scent of wet stone was gone from the air, leaving only a brisk cold that numbed her nostrils. “Every single time. I don’t understand why he bothers inviting me home. It’s as bad as pulling teeth just to get him to have a meal with me.” 

Pio twiddled his fingers. “That is a puzzling matter. But,” his tone lifted somewhat, putting Carla off. “He still invites you to come back home. Does that not mean he is putting in some sort of effort?”

Carla glared up at him, having it only dawn on her now that Pio stood a good half a head taller than her. Of course Father would have done so. “And what sort of effort is that supposed to be? Inviting me home to dally off at his workshop? What’s the point?”

Avoiding her eye as if knowing she would grow cross with him for staring for too long, Pio nervously looked at his own boots, taking much too long to reply, which only ignited Carla’s temper all over again. Finally, Pio spoke up, “I-I—that is—I simply mean it as he still seems to want you home. Maybe there is work he cannot avoid. I am certain he still cares for you.”

Carla’s temper hit its peak, hearing this puppet say such things about her father, as if he had any damn clue what he was saying, as if he understood how she felt at all when Father never gave her the time of day, how each and every time he would invite her home, there would always be a spark of hope underneath the resentment, how she would always pack her things to come back, hoping that this time, surely this time, Father would keep his word, only to be left disappointed each and every time. What was the purpose? Did Father delight in tormenting her? Did he understand what it did to her to come home to an empty house, empty promises, no warmth whatsoever? 

She was yelling without having really meant to, her voice reaching a volume she wasn’t expecting to expel from her own throat. “Don’t you dare defend him as if you have any clue what it’s like!” She shoved him in his chest to get him away from her, startling Pio who tripped over his own feet for a moment, righting himself back up just as quickly, his eyes wide, but Carla was still yelling. “Of course you would have positive things to say about him—he’s spent more time with you— you! You—a damn puppet! He’s spent more time with a damn puppet than his own daughter! You don’t know what it’s like when you don’t even have feelings! What father gives his child hope that he’ll be around when he doesn’t bother to put any effort in?! But he simply couldn’t wait to build you—he couldn’t wait to brag about his achievements every moment of every day—as if I cared, as if I’m merely a spectator to his fame—!” 

Tears were in her eyes, hot angry tears, but Carla wiped at her face with her sleeve, glaring up at Pio who said not a word, only looking on in abject fear as everything spilled out of her. 

“He cares more about his work—about you! He cares more about a make-believe son than his own daughter! You’re not even real! You’re just a puppet! And yet—Father gives more of a damn about a stupid puppet than he does me! What’s so special about you anyway?! What was so damn important about you that he so easily cast me aside to focus all of his attention onto you?!” She took a step back, gesturing toward Pio as a whole. “You’re nothing! You’re not his real son—the moment he grows bored of you, he’s going to strip you down for parts and move on to something else! You’re just a toy he made to amplify his own ego—he’d rather have a fake NOTHING of a son than have anything to do with his actual daughter!” 

Those wide eyes Pio stared at her with grew glassy, shining with something she ignored, because she’d never been so angry with Father than right now. She should have been screaming this at Father. This was all his fault. But to hear Pio defend him when he hadn’t a clue what Carla had been through, how embarrassing it was that she kept giving Father chance after chance, only to be burned every single time—she was so stupid for thinking Father would ever change. He wouldn’t. 

More tears gathered and stagnated in her eyes, Carla rubbing them away furiously on her sleeve. She shook her head, her voice trembling, oddly low and weak from yelling so much. She turned her back on Pio. “Go away. Just go away. I can’t stand to look at you anymore. Get away from me.”

No reply came. No sound of admission. Nothing, not even a halfhearted apology to keep the peace. Pio did as she said, leaving the garden with heavy steps, saying not a word, until the small sounds of his boots against the walkway faded in the distance. 

She looked up, finding the spot where he’d stood mere seconds ago empty, strangely colder than before. Carla hugged into herself, the wind that blew making her shiver all over again. She was alone in the garden, just like she wanted. 

Sitting by the fountain, the sound of the water trickling down the stone was so much louder to her then, Carla breathing long and deep while she sat by herself, with not even a songbird to soften the stilled air. Alone. Quiet. Cold. Miserable. Heartbroken, always.

Just the way she’d made it. 

The sun had set long ago, the villa aglow with lamplight and very welcoming warmth from the fireplaces. Gloomy Octobers were some of Carla’s favorite times of the year, especially when she could catch glimpses of the red and orange sea of leaves scattered about the countryside. The entirety of the surrounding forests and rolling hills was the most beautiful thing about Krat, only rivaled by the tranquility of sitting by the seaside when they were in the city. 

Carla would have preferred to settle down with a cup of tea and read by the warm fire, with or without Father’s company, but a looming dark cloud hung over her head for the rest of the day, well into that evening, until she was caught staring out the window by a maid who asked if she wanted a bath drawn. Not even the soothing soak in the tub was enough to pull her out of her fog, Carla so aimless in her thoughts when she emerged from the bath, dressed in a nightgown and knowing it would be better to retire to bed. 

But when the clock struck midnight, she was still too bothered to even think of trying to sleep. All she’d done since sending Pio away from the garden was stew in her horrible mood, and now that so much time had passed, Carla was left with a bitter pill to swallow. 

She’d been so cruel to him. Not just cold, but criticizing him for being a puppet who lacked feelings, only to whirl around and fling such poisonous anger upon him that truly showed her own lack of care. She’d tried to justify it as not counting because he was a puppet, but she still remembered the way his eyes shined with hurt when she’d said what she did. Carla almost made him cry. Maybe he did once he left. She didn’t know. 

But now she was left with herself, to come to terms with the fact she’d said terrible things to him, things he didn’t deserve at all. Father should have been the one to take the front of Carla’s anger, not this puppet. The things he said set her off, but she knew now that he was trying his best to help her see whatever good there could still be captured by Father. It was awful timing on his part, but she still had no reason to yell at him the way she did. 

She’d been wrong. Carla knew that. And there was only one thing to do now. 

With midnight underway, Carla unable to rest when her conscience was prodding her to seek him out, she searched the villa for any signs of him, seeing not a trace of him anywhere. Part of her feared he had taken off and truly left her alone, but just as she made to give up, she found him in Father’s study of all places, crouched to the floor where he appeared to be tinkering with some handful of random mechanics Father had left lying around. She didn’t know if he could build anything, but she soon approached him from behind, Pio having not appeared to notice she had entered the room. 

She watched him for only a few moments, intrigued by his curiosity as he placed parts in and out of other metal plugs. Whatever he was building, or tinkering with, Carla hadn’t the slightest idea what it was, because it all looked like scrap metal from where she stood. 

Mentally sighing, she knew what she had to do, and cleared her throat. “Pio?”

He gave a small start, his eyes widening when he turned to see it was her, and he quickly dropped everything he was doing to stand up straight, his eyes trailing down to the floor. Ever since she’d snapped at him that staring made her uncomfortable, he went out of his way to avoid doing it, almost comically so. 

Carla took a step closer, hating how nervous she was, but it was never an easy thing to apologize, even knowing she was in the wrong. Maybe that made her a terrible person, because whatever Pio had been dealing with all day had to be even worse. As much as she’d argued with herself that he was simply an unfeeling puppet incapable of emotions, the emotions he did display were real enough. 

She knew she’d hurt him. 

Carla reached down to take his hand in hers, cupping his palm where she gave him a gentle squeeze of reassurance. She swallowed when he made a small gasp. 

“Pio, I’m sorry for everything I said earlier.” The initial apology was out of her. Already a weight was lifting, but she kept going, finding it easier to do so. “I know that you cannot help the way Father made you, and I shouldn’t project so much onto you when it’s out of your control. Father is the one I should be angry with. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His head lifted, his lidded eyes casting a reserved, cautious glance her way before quickly lowering again. He squeezed her hand back tentatively. “Do you hate me, Carla?”

The question disarmed her somewhat, only for Carla to blink a few times to make certain she heard that correctly. And she shook her head, emitting a small laugh from her nose. “No. I don’t hate you, Pio. People say things when they’re angry that they don’t mean. I know it’s a poor excuse, I shouldn’t be excusing what I did, and I don’t. But.” She tried to catch his eye, failing when he didn’t look up. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. You’re a very kind person who didn’t deserve any of it. Could you ever forgive me?”

The moment those words left her mouth, Pio’s face jolted back up, his eyes wide, and he reached up with his opposite hand to clutch hers tighter, where he stared. “You do not need to ask me for forgiveness—I know that your father treats you poorly. I should not have seemed as though I was defending that.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t. I’m the one who let my temper get the better of me. You didn’t do anything wrong, Pio. I’m the one who hurt you.”

He shook his head as well. “I understand why you would hate me. It has not been easy for you.”

A small smile rose the corners of her mouth that she didn’t notice at first, Carla willing it down. “I don’t hate you, Pio, I promise. You—” she was just being honest, having to swallow before she said this, “you were very much a shock at first. I thought that you might act differently than you do. I’m still trying to figure out why Father would do all this.”

Pio dared a smile too, still clutching her hand, glancing away out of some shyness perhaps. “I do not possess that knowledge either. But, I am happy you sought me out. I was worried about you all day.” 

Her chest tightened somewhat, and all Carla could do was snort then at his admission. “You’re very kind, Pio. I don’t deserve such kindness after the way I treated you.” She placed her other hand upon his, knowing this was silly to converse with a puppet this way, but Pio had proven he was unlike the others. His feelings were real. At least to him. And Carla could accept that when she’d seen him almost shed tears at her harshness, but. 

Father treated her poorly by leaving her home to wallow in solitude. Just because Father did so didn’t mean Carla had to treat the puppet the same. She was being just like her father by casting him out, and she didn’t want to be like that old man by any measure. Pio couldn’t help who his creator was, he couldn’t help that Father made him to look like her, to carry such burdens he had no say in. Pio was innocent. 

She didn’t want to be like Father. Not even to treat one of his puppets as poorly as he treated her. Whether he possessed real feelings or not, Carla lost nothing by being nice to him, and it wouldn’t kill her to do so. 

Carla knew she was unworthy of such kindness, but she pushed further when she offered Pio another small, apprehensive smile. “Pio, would you be alright with it if we started over?”

The little head tilt came, as though he’d taken the mannerism from a wandering cat, yet it suited him. “Started over?”

She nodded. “I want to redo everything and take back what I said, even though I know that’s rather childish of me. I’m sorry for being so cruel to you.” 

His smile was shy still as he glanced away. “You do not have to apologize.” 

“I do. You aren’t at fault for anything.” 

Some of his posture seemed to rise with life at her words then, and Pio lifted his face to offer her a tender smile she knew was too kind for her, but he gave it anyway. “Then we can start over.” 

She released his hands, the weight floating from her shoulders entirely, as though she’d run a great distance, causing her laugh to be light as well as relieved. “Thank you. You’re very sweet, Pio. I suppose if we’re starting over, we can begin with greetings.” She held her hand out for him to take, which he did, where she gave him a hearty shake. “My name is Carla. It’s nice to meet you.”

She swore that a red blush bloomed underneath his freckled cheeks as Pio’s smile widened, his eyes brightening with it. He was honestly quite cute when he smiled like that. “Hello, Carla. That is a very pretty name. My name is Pio. It is nice to meet you as well.” 

Glancing over his shoulder, she took notice of the mess he’d left on the floor and pointed at it. “What were you doing before I walked in?” 

He turned, as though forgetting entirely, and fumbled. “O-oh—I do not know actually. I was studying some of Fath—ah—your father’s tools. I was going to put everything back.” 

Reaching up then, Carla gave him a reassuring pat on his back, relinquishing all of her bitterness right then and there when she sighed the poison straight out of her body. The least she could do was give that back to him too. “You can call him Father if you want. He is what he is. I know it’s natural for you.” 

He perked. “Really? Will that not upset you?” 

“It did at first, but it isn’t your fault.” She pointed again at the mess on the floor. “Do you need help cleaning?” 

Pio shook his head. “Oh no, I remember where everything went. But should you not be in bed? It is late and you are in your gown.” 

Carla couldn’t deny now that she’d tried to wash the slate clean that she was indeed getting tired. “Yes. I couldn’t sleep. I was worried about you.” That wasn’t even a lie. And the least she could do was try to mend things over with Pio, because he really was very sweet, his patience astounding her when he had every right to step on her apology and reject it. But he didn’t. 

His face lit up. “You need not worry about me. But if you are indeed heading to bed, ah,” he trailed off, his smile turning bashful, “may I escort you to your room?” 

Carla couldn’t help it. Rolling her head back, she laughed so loud that she instantly covered her mouth, having not meant to make such an obnoxious sound, causing her to blush when Pio could so easily draw such things out of her without even trying, but. “Why do you insist on escorting me everywhere?” 

He shrugged somewhat sheepishly. “I know it is silly, but I like it. If you do not want me to, I will not pester you.” 

Carla held out her hand, figuring since Pio was allowing her the chance to begin anew that now was as good a time as any to try and make friends. She smiled, feeling foolish, but there was something kind of fun about it as well. “No, you can lead me. I dare say I might become lost on the way back.” 

“Really?” 

Carla snorted, just as Pio looped his arm around hers, guiding her from Father’s study. “No, I was being facetious.” 

He blushed. “Oh—right.” Sarcasm, even in jest, seemed to go right over his head, though that made him oddly charming then. Still, Carla smiled at his fumbling, finding it cute in a way. 

It was amazing how coming to terms with this and finding a little common ground could lift her spirits this much. As much as she detested Father, Pio was nothing like him, and she didn’t have to project Father’s shortcomings onto him when Pio had already proven he was much, much different. He was his own person. And she was slowly realizing that, leaning into his warmth while he escorted her down the hallway toward her bedroom. 

Once the door was open, Pio released her arm, glancing to the floor as though struggling for something to say. “Are you still going to leave?” he finally managed. 

Carla shrugged, peeling back her blankets on the bed. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.” 

“I see.” Another bout of awkward silence passed in which Pio shuffled on his feet then, Carla watching with curious patience when it became obvious he wanted to say something else. She was just about to ask him when, “Would you stay to eat breakfast with me?” 

Having known he would ask her something to that effect, Carla could do little but relent, having made up her mind then and there that so long as Pio was offering to spend time with her, she may as well indulge him. “Yes. I will stay and have breakfast with you until I’m to return to school.” 

The smile that grew on Pio’s face then could have pulled anyone out of the sludge with how genuinely happy he looked, enough that Carla had to shy away somewhat when she blushed. Because. 

He was handsome. Very handsome. Especially when he smiled. 

Pio quickly made way for her door in an effort to leave her in some privacy, but not before he turned one last time. “Thank you, Carla. You are very nice.” 

That made her snort and almost roll her eyes, a pang of guilt surfacing for all she’d said and done to him that morning alone—and yet he still thought highly of her. “I haven’t been very nice to you at all.” She quickly caught herself. “But thank you. I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Pio.” 

“Good night, Carla.” 

The door closed, Pio’s smile imprinted upon her mind long after he’d left, and Carla soon tucked under the covers, happy that Pio was kind enough to give her a second chance, even though she didn’t deserve it. But if he was willing to give her that, she would take it. And really, he was not bad at all. Rather, he was very gentle and sweet, not the way she would have thought one of Father’s puppets to be. 

But that was a good thing. 

There was a warmth in her chest when she finally settled in bed, Carla soon falling into a deep sleep, and the last thing she remembered thinking of was how she was actually a little excited to wake up early and have breakfast with Pio. 

Chapter Text

The knock that came at her door roused her awake, Carla sitting up to rub the sleep from her eyes. She did not have to see to know who it was, because not long after the polite knock, the door opened, and in walked Pio. He greeted her with a rather shy smile, bowing his head. 

“Good morning, Carla.” 

Still somewhat sleepy, Carla yawned before rubbing her eyes again, trying to will away the groggy sensation, but being quite unsuccessful. “Good morning, Pio.” 

“I wish that I could say it is a pleasant day, but the sky is covered in darkness.” 

As soon as he’d said it, Carla leaned over in bed toward her window to see he was indeed correct. Dark storm clouds were forming above the horizon, and she pulled a face at what she knew to be an impending downpour. So much for thinking they could walk in the garden today. She’d been wanting to try again after yesterday, but Carla would most likely not get her wish. 

Grumbling to herself, she stood from bed, yawning again, and stretched the muscles in her back, realizing now how much of a mess her hair was. Only shoulder length and already tangled. This was why she hated longer hair. 

For a split moment, she forgot Pio was even in the room, he was so quiet, though he cleared his throat before offering her a small smile. “Is there anything I can help you do? Do you need assistance in getting dressed?” 

Carla nearly unconsciously nodded, one hand on her nightgown collar, before she stopped herself, because she was still half asleep but she remembered— “You’re a boy. It wouldn’t be proper if you saw me in my underwear.” 

As if he hadn’t even conceptualized such a thing, Pio’s face turned bright red, his eyes widening, and he all too quickly shrank beneath her sleepy gaze, bowing his head just as he removed himself from her bedroom in a manner of milliseconds. Carla didn’t even have time to laugh at him, much less assure him that he could at least help her button her daydress, but Pio was long gone, having shut the door when he left. Carla had to smile, unable to help it. 

For a puppet, he was quite cute. A bit annoyingly so. But still cute. 

She removed her gown to slip on a beige dress, never one for anything more elegant than what was efficient, washed her face, combed her hair, all in a manner of minutes, before she was presentable enough to open the door again. Quite startlingly, Pio was still there, leaned against the nearby wall, his face reddening all over again when he caught sight of her. Pushing off the wall, he met her side, dipping his head to avoid eye contact, she noticed. He really took her criticisms to heart, and she felt guilty still that she’d been so mean to him. He would take getting used to, unfortunately. 

“I-I am sorry. I swear I did not intend to peek or do anything unseemly. It did not occur to me—I only wanted to help.” 

Now Carla was laughing, throwing her head backward with the motion. “I know you meant no harm. I’m not mad. But boys aren’t supposed to see girls in their underwear. I mean—unless you’re married obviously.” 

“Married?” As he said it, Pio offered his arm for her to take, Carla already knowing he would insist on escorting her. She took the offer, looping her arm around his. 

She nodded. “Yes. Married, or at least very close to one another. I don’t require assistance to dress unless Father takes me to a soirée. My clothes are quite plain otherwise.” 

Pio smiled, blushing slightly. “I think you are very pretty in that dress.” 

Turning away, Carla hoped he hadn’t noticed the heat that rose to her face, knowing she was probably red, but she cleared her throat to try and compose herself. “Thank you. You dress nicely as well.” She could have tried harder with that compliment, but Carla never was good at doing that. 

It didn’t appear to deter Pio who smiled wider, being mindful as they descended the staircase arm in arm. “Thank you.” 

“By the way.” Carla hopped off the last step while they made their way to the dining hall, puppets already meandering around to begin serving them breakfast. “Did you sleep? Or do you sleep?” 

Pio shook his head, pulling Carla’s chair for her right when they approached the table, sliding his own chair close by so that they could sit together. “I am capable of sleeping, but I do not require it to function.” 

A coffee and butter bread were placed in front of Carla, along with Pio who sipped his mug as if fighting to discern the taste. She couldn’t tell if he liked it or not. “Do you dream?” 

Looking up from his mug, Pio nodded. “I can.” 

Only able to sigh in amazement, Carla perked up in her chair. “That’s incredible. I don’t quite understand why Father created you with such detail, but,” she had to avert her eyes, “I’m glad.” 

“I am glad too. It is nice to be able to sit and talk like this. What about you, Carla? Did you dream?” 

“Eh…” She paused to take a bite of her bread roll, washing it down with coffee in the meanwhile, and shrugged. “I know I did, but I can never remember them. Something about being lost in my school and being unable to find my classroom I’ve been to a million times.” 

Pio snorted, the sound so cute and quiet that it made Carla smile too. “I am familiar with how nonsensical dreams can be. I have a hard time remembering mine as well.”

“I dreamt one time that the school was flooded, yet we were still expected to swim to class.” 

The laugh Pio made caught her off guard how loud it was, and he quickly covered his mouth, his face turning red. “Ah—forgive me. It is a funny image.” 

Carla nodded, having another cup of coffee when she drained hers quite fast. “No, it is. I’m always a complete idiot in my dreams too. I can never hold a pencil or remember how to dress myself. It’s as if I’ve reverted to toddler stages all over again.” 

“I wish I could have dreams that vivid. Mine are a bit strange.” He took a bite of his bread roll, staring at it as though confused by the taste. 

Since he refused to elaborate, Carla poked him. “Like what?” 

Pio gave pause for so long that Carla suspected he wouldn’t answer at all, until finally, once he’d adequately surmised that the bread roll was decent, he glanced her way. “Things such as muted colors with no substance attached. I once dreamt of a blue forest.” 

Carla perked up, not expecting it. “A blue forest? Literally or like the ocean?” 

He shook his head. “No—the leaves were blue. Some of them luminescent. There were no sounds or sensations or people. A still, blue forest with no sun under a dim moon. I recall little else.” 

“That sounds pretty, though.” 

Pio smiled, just when they were served apricot jam with their bread. “I suppose it was pretty.” 

“I’d love to take a walk in a blue forest like that.” Carla shrugged, partially smirking as she spread jam on her bread, knowing it was a bit silly to indulge in such nonsense, but she saw no harm really. “Though maybe in the daylight. Walking through the woods in the middle of the night is dangerous.” 

“I would protect you,” Pio said. 

About to take another sip of her coffee, Carla paused at his statement, seeing his smile had grown bashful all over again. She set her cup down. “Protect me? Can you fight?” 

“Ah…” here he trailed off, sinking into himself, looking quite cute when he did. Carla hated thinking he was cute, but something about Pio’s mannerisms and tone of voice, the way he so nervously handled her sometimes, he may have been a puppet, but she couldn’t deny there was something endearing about how shy he was. “I do not know. Father did not awaken me much to give me guidance on that subject. He merely wanted to make certain I could function.” 

Carla nodded, finally finished with her jam roll, and pushed her plate away to signify she was full. “If he’d meant for you to be a bodyguard, I’m sure he would have trained you. But that’s alright. If we ever find ourselves in the woods late at night, I’ll protect you.” 

He perked, and even Carla had no earthly idea why she said that. It slipped. “You would protect me?” 

Heat. Her face was warm. Heat. He was staring again. Why was she getting so flustered? Why did she say that? Carla really was getting too carried away with this conversation and she nearly dropped her coffee cup when her hands began to shake. “I-I mean—I’m training somewhat at school—I might become a Stalker one day is all. But I don’t foresee either of us taking a walk in the woods late at night.” Change the subject— quick. She frantically looked about for anything to bring up, her sights set to the window, or more specifically, the growing storm clouds. “What happens if you get wet?” she blurted before he could reply. 

Pio’s rather intense stare finally faltered to give focus out the window as well, and he hummed in the back of his throat before answering. “Nothing. I am waterproof.” 

Carla had to laugh at the way he’d worded that. He really was a puppet, but a very convincing person otherwise, with a surprisingly charming sense of humor, if not a little awkward. Good to know he was waterproof, but now the conversation fell to a lull and Carla could think of nothing else to say. 

Pio broke through the silence, pulling her from her thoughts. “Are you leaving today?” 

He’d asked that with a weighted implication, Carla unable to ignore it. She sat up straighter in her chair. “Do you wish me to?” 

“No.” Pio shook his head, answering before she’d even finished speaking. “I like you, Carla.” 

How could she possibly reject him after that? After all she’d put him through the past two days? Carla deflated, accepting her defeat. “I’ve no earthly idea what you see in me, Pio. But I will stay.”

His smile made her chest tighter by the mere sight of it, a warmth seeping down into her stomach, spreading out to her limbs. She was flustered all over again for some reason, with no words to explain how or why. He was a puppet, but his sentiments were so sweet and caring—was he really embarrassing her? As if he was a real boy doting on her, Carla was weakened by his smile and his bashful blush. 

What a conundrum. How silly of her to think a puppet could actually like her. But she tried to push those thoughts away before she emitted a small sigh. “What did you want to do today?” 

“What were your plans?” 

She looked out the window again. It wasn’t raining, but those dark clouds were sure threatening alright. “I would have enjoyed going to the city with Father and spending time in the bookstore. He used to take me all the time, but he stopped.” 

“Then would you like to go with me instead?” Pio’s voice had lifted into a hopeful, but still hesitant tone. He was twiddling his fingers when Carla regarded him, noting the way he averted his eyes so as not to look at her face. 

There was truly no way she could have told him no, wondering if he was doing this intentionally to win her over. Regardless, it was working. “Yes,” Carla said, smiling. “I will go with you.” 

The clouds only ever darkened further throughout the day. Carla kept anticipating a torrential deluge at any moment’s notice, but the sky was holding fast, refusing even a sprinkle. It caught her eye several times while they were on the train, mostly because she was looking for an excuse to clear her head anyway she could. This was by no means Pio’s fault, but now that they were out in public, Carla couldn’t deny it to herself that she felt a bit silly being escorted by a puppet everywhere. 

But then, he looked so lifelike that most, if not everyone they passed by, took no notice while they shambled about until finally finding a free compartment on the train. Carla took the window seat, Pio at her side, staring out at the dark clouds that posed no rainfall, not yet anyway, and she tapped her fingers on the edge of her seat as the train rattled beneath them. Even Pio seemed a bit awkward while sitting silently right next to her. He probably figured he had done something wrong, so Carla heaved a sigh before taking the plunge herself.

 “Thank you for coming out with me. I haven’t been to town in ages.”

Despite not being able to see it, Carla knew Pio’s mouth had curled into a shy smile. “You are welcome. Thank you for allowing me to come with you. I have never seen the city before.”

Carla turned. “You haven’t?”

Pio shook his head. “Not yet. Father never allowed me to see much the few times I was awake. I only remember basic exercises. He made sure I could talk, then I was put back to sleep. Then another day I would stand and walk and be put back to sleep.” He shrugged, his eyes down casting. “I had been looking forward to seeing more outside of the villa.”

Carla huffed, sitting up straighter before rolling her eyes at how blatantly nonchalant her father could be toward this poor boy. “Father never did put much feeling into anything he created, preferring the technological details over anything else. So long as you function and meet his standards, then he could care less about anything else.” She patted his shoulder in a gesture of goodwill. “I’ll show you around once we’re there. So long as the rain holds off.”

Pio finally lifted his eyes, his shy smile widening more. “Really?”

Carla nodded. “Yes, really. I’ll treat you to a little tour of my favorite shopping corner, get you a scone because they’re really good, especially the orange ones, and purchase you some clothes if you’d like.”

“Clothes?”

“Yes. You’ve been wearing the same white shirt and blue coat since Father woke you up. It doesn’t bode well in society to wear the same thing everyday,” she took pause, eyeing him up and down at the realization of her own statement, “Not that you offend as far as hygiene is concerned. Being a puppet and all, I doubt my father would have bothered making certain you sweat.” 

Linking his hands together, Pio tilted his head to the side as though confused. “No, I do not sweat. I hope I do not smell bad though.”

“You don’t, that’s the point I’m making.” Carla had to chuckle at Pio’s concerns, never thinking a puppet would have worried over something so trivial, yet it was charming. “But people might judge you for wearing the same thing all the time. I have to make certain you have at least a few outfits to change into. What sort of clothes do you like?” 

Pio shook his head. “I do not have a preference. What I am wearing now is comfortable.”

With that said, Carla took the chance to ogle his outfit, having never truly done so until now, though looking at it closely, it was quite plain by all standards. Father didn’t exactly dress him up like a doll, neither did Carla wish to treat him as such, but he could have benefited from a proper coat and trousers at least. Carla herself never dallied around with anything too loud, if it were, and stuck to the basics of beige and maybe a ruffled collar. 

But Pio would look quite dashing in something a little more flourishing. She could see him being quite dandy even with a hat, and she must have been staring for quite some time, because Pio then spoke up. 

“Are we to go clothes shopping?” 

Carla nodded. “Yes, I think that’ll be a great starting place. Your outfit is fine for traveling out and about, but you’d be handsome in a proper coat with a ruffled collar.” 

It didn’t dawn on her just what she’d said until Pio responded, “Am I not handsome now?” 

That familiar heat she knew all too well rose to her face, Carla having to glance back out the window lest he see it. She twiddled her fingers, trying her best to remain calm and collected. Collected and calm. Very not flustered. Not at all. Her voice trembled when she answered, “Y-you are handsome, Pio, I wasn’t trying to say that.” Even though she could no longer see his face, Carla knew he was smiling. Probably amused at her blunder. “You’re very handsome. The proper clothes would accentuate that is all.” That was all. Carla knew she’d fumbled that awfully, but there was no going back now, and she hated that she'd let slip something so embarrassing, though wasn’t that the truth? 

He was handsome. Maybe that made her the slightest bit self-centered, because he looked just like her, but Pio had such a charmingly boyish smile, and he was quite shy. Carla wasn’t used to being around a boy so much like this, especially not one that took her feelings into consideration so much. So yes, he was handsome. And charming. And cute. And she hated it. 

“I see,” Pio finally said after Carla wanted to perish from such awkward silence. He really knew how to make her chew on her own statements without even really meaning to. It wasn’t his fault. “Being told I am handsome by someone so pretty makes me happy.” 

Here she turned, expecting his bashful blush to appear, and the twiddling fingers, which made him all the cuter, but Carla tried to compose herself long enough to be flattered at the very least. She laughed through the shame, swallowing it down. “Thank you, Pio. You’re quite the charmer, you know?” 

“I-I mean it. Also, Carla?” He looked up, his eyes trailing behind her so that he did not make direct eye contact. “Forgive me, but is it not customary for the boy to buy the girl things while they are out?” 

Carla shrugged, at least grateful he was changing the subject (probably on purpose). “I suppose. I don’t really know myself. I’ve always purchased things with my own money—or Father’s money really. He always leaves me with some funds for school to get by, but if I demand spending money, he usually relinquishes what he can spare without griping.” 

Pio nodded. “I see. I ask because—I do not have any money.” 

Carla had to snort through her nose at what she already knew. “Considering how you said nothing when I paid for our ticket fares, I’d suspected as much.” 

Pio blushed. “I am sorry. I am not doing very well at being a man.” 

“It’s not your fault. Hound Father for some funds when he’s home next time. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind giving you a little.” 

Their conversation was cut short when the train finally pulled into the station, the sky dark as it had been all day. Granted, Carla enjoyed a good storm every once in a while, and though she would’ve liked some thunder and a little bit of rain, she was hoping it would hold off while they went shopping at least. Pio had already stated nothing would happen if he got wet, but Carla fretted over it nonetheless. 

In a lot of ways, she was coming to realize she treated him somewhat like a younger sibling. He could be annoyingly clingy like one, yet now she found herself wanting to take care of him too. Weird. 

Without going down a rabbit hole of unseemly proportions, Carla let the thoughts drift away while they filed from the train, Pio insisting he escort her as she knew he would. She didn’t mind. The more he did it, the less embarrassed she was about it, because no one around them seemed to be paying them the slightest bit of attention. 

Once they were out of the station, Carla pointed toward the corner of the grand plaza beyond the fountain, guiding Pio along the way while he led her to the best of his abilities. They rounded Hotel Krat as they weaved in and out of crowds, Carla having her sights set for Elysium Boulevard, as it was the epicenter of shops and boutiques and whatever else. It was the perfect starting place for Pio to experience the city firsthand. 

After a mild walk, they finally arrived once turning a corner to reveal the lively scene of people coming in and out of stores, the place always quite busy this time of day. Pio walked much slower as they approached, Carla keeping in lockstep so that he had an opportunity to take it all in. His eyes were wide and inquisitive, mouth hung slightly open as he marveled the mass of people and bright lights sprinkled on just about every building in sight. 

She smiled when he turned her way to ask, “This is the shopping district?” 

She nodded, glad he seemed to be enjoying himself. “Yes, the most popular one anyhow. Do you want to visit a boutique?” 

Already heading off, Pio nodded before he could even get to the first shop closest to them. A throng of ladies were blocking the entrance, but Carla pulled him by the arm to lead him forward before he could get too carried away. “No, not that one. They only sell dresses.” She snorted. “Unless you want me to put you in a dress.” 

Pio laughed sheepishly, shrugging as he gave over Carla the lead, following after her. “I do not think I would have the heart to say no if you insisted.” 

“I wouldn’t do that, Pio. It wouldn’t flatter you anyway.” That implied she would have if it did. Before Carla could even fantasize about that one, she almost walked right past the gentleman’s boutique, skidding to a halt and causing Pio to nearly topple over his own feet. “Sorry,” she said, having not meant to be so hasty. “I almost passed it. Here.” 

Pio didn’t even appear to notice the blunder, he was so enthralled by the display suits in the window. A black coat with a ruffled collar captured his attention, Carla noticed, and he stared for much longer than she thought he would. Carla drew closer. 

“You fancy that one?” 

He nodded. “I like the black coat and the silver lapel. It looks nice.” 

“Then let’s get you dressed up.” Without awaiting his reply, Carla had dragged him into the shop, finding the place quite barren save for the seamstress who greeted them. She eyed Pio who continued to rove over the black outfit, Carla happy to see him taking an interest in such a thing. 

With the place to themselves, it was no time that Carla had him dressed up, thanks to the assistance of the seamstress, and she sat on a chair when he emerged from behind the curtain, the contrast of what he was wearing earlier to this such a shock that she verbally gasped when they locked eyes. It really suited him, much too well. The black was quite slimming, showing off his flat stomach and shapely thighs—Carla was staring at his legs, having not meant to. Good god—what was wrong with her? 

She had to stand and meet his side, ignoring the blush. “You’re so dashing! So very handsome!” Why bother lying about that? It was true. 

Pio shyly looked to the floor, twiddling his fingers. “Thank you… it is a little tight at the collar.” 

“Here?” Without thinking, Carla reached up to his ruffled collar to gently tug it out from his neck. She swore she imagined the warmth that wafted off him then, but his face went red, staying absolutely silent while she adjusted the piece so that he would be more comfortable. Once she’d finished, Carla patted the ruffles back down, fluffing them right afterward, and smiled. “Is that better?” 

He nodded, his smile quite nervous. “Yes, very much better. Thank you.” 

“You like this one then?” 

He nodded. “If you think it suits me, then I like it too.” 

That settled that. Carla approached the seamstress, and was surprised to find very little needed to be tailored, other than the coat. Ironically, it wasn’t small enough, though once the measurements were taken and the order placed, Pio was back in his old clothes before the two exited the store. She tucked the order ticket into her coin purse, turning to Pio. “It should be ready in a few days. Maybe if Father gets invited to a gala for Christmas, you can wear it then.” 

He nodded, offering her his arm again, which she accepted. “Did you wish to visit the bookstore?” 

Absolutely yes. Carla tugged him along probably faster than he was expecting, where she almost tripped him yet again in her excitement, but he recovered quickly this time. Down the street they flew to Carla’s favorite bookstore, and the little bell that rang above their heads when they entered gave her immense joy already. Pio followed in behind, glancing about the tables and shelves, curious as ever. 

Carla gravitated to the horror section, since it was gloomy, cold, and possibly going to rain later that day, she fancied some mystery or maybe even ghost stories. With Pio in tow, Carla was soon lost in the sea of books, her ultimate comfort, and before they’d lost twenty minutes, she already had a stack in her arms. 

“Allow me,” Pio offered, holding his hands for the books. Carla allowed. She wasn’t going to protest a bit if he insisted on doing the heavy lifting, because really, there was no harm in letting him feel like a gentleman. He’d been trying so hard to, and he was doing quite an admirable job of it, she had to admit. Pio really was sweet in all his bashful bumbling. Carla could sense genuine affection beneath it all, even for a puppet. 

She was caught up in her perusing before too long, her mind a million miles away as she lifted books away to glance at, filing some interesting choices for another visit, or shoving their spines further back on the shelf if they didn’t stand out. About forty minutes had passed before Carla came back to the real world, forgetting for half a second Pio had even been there, still carrying her books. 

He smiled when she faced him. “What sort of books do you like to read?” 

She shrugged, taking another book from the shelf before placing it back. No—she’d gotten a whole stack already, she really needed to leave before her wallet suffered anymore. “All sorts of things. I like horror sometimes, especially during this time of year. But I enjoy fantasy and fairytales too.” 

Pio nodded. “I see. That all sounds very interesting.” 

“What about you?” She made way for the clerk to purchase her haul. “Do you like reading?” 

“Ah…” Pio bit his bottom lip, shaking his head. “I am not certain. I would like to read something one day. Fairytales sound fun.” 

Just as he’d said that, Carla rounded one of the shelves to make way for where she knew the fairytales to be and picked the first book she already knew the story of. Before Pio could question her, she headed for the clerk who eyed the pair, possibly wondering if they were twins, before Carla finished paying and finally left the store with bags in hand—Pio’s hands actually. He continued to carry her things for her as diligently as ever, to a fault. 

“Here,” Carla said, already knowing where she was going while they came upon a humble little sweets shop. Pio followed her in, Carla already ordering scones and coffee for the pair, and it was no time they were settled at a table in the corner, Carla fishing from the bags before digging into her snack. “I got this for you,” she said, handing the fairytale book across the table to Pio who eyed it up and down as though it were some ancient artifact. 

“Fairytales?” 

She nodded. “You can try it. It might not be quite what you’re looking for, but there are always endless books to discover. Maybe you can read it when I’m back at school.” She blushed a little, hating that she hoped he would. 

Smiling, obviously moved by the gift, Pio nodded. “I will read it. Thank you, Carla. I was supposed to be the one to treat you today, yet all you have done is spend money for my sake. You are very kind.” 

Carla had to laugh, unable to help it. “You don’t have any money, it’s alright. We can bully Father into giving you some later. But—try your scone. The orange ones are my favorite. Tell me what you think.” She was being pushy, just a little, but Carla was excited now for some reason, not really understanding just when she came to pine for Pio’s approval over her silly little interests, but it was nice having someone around who took an interest at all. 

After placing the book to the side for safekeeping, Pio then lifted his scone to regard it for only a few seconds before taking a bite. Carla was watching him intently, not meaning to, but waiting with bated breath his verdict. Pio finally swallowed, and nodded, his face lighting up with the motion. “It is delicious. I like it.” 

Carla’s smile was wide and pleased, never able to stave away the wonderful feeling of someone else enjoying the same things as she. It didn’t dawn on her until then, but she was having fun. So much more fun than she would have had with Father. How was it possible for this boy, this puppet, to make her smile as he did? To make her laugh? Feel weak in the knees? Have her heart pound? 

She didn’t quite understand such a feeling, knowing he could fluster her, and knowing it was all unintentional confused her all the more. But for now, she simply enjoyed his company, both the coffee and the scone having never tasted better. 

The storm Carla had suspected would come that day never revealed itself. Only a light sprinkle tickled their heads when they finally arrived back at the villa that evening. It wasn’t even late, but with the added cloud coverage and the autumn weather, it seemed much later than it actually was. 

Carla didn’t want to admit she’d had a great time, but she did. Today was fun. It was very fun. Not long after getting inside, she ran to her room to unpack her books, picking out her favorite from the bunch to have at her side for the train ride back while she stuffed the remainder into her luggage. 

The realization that she was due back at the Charity House soon weighed on her mind. She’d only been given a few days of holiday at the most, and she’d spent the majority of it longing for Father who only ate one meal with her before vanishing off to his workshop. She hadn’t even noticed, but while out with Pio, Father never really crossed her mind. At least his absence, and her ever present annoyances with him. Pio had taken all her attention, to the point she was enjoying herself, and it gave her the strangest, but most freeing, lighthearted feeling in her chest. 

Part of her wanted to get back to school to continue her studies and see all her friends, but she was experiencing something else now—the thought of having to leave Pio. It made her heart ache for some reason. She didn’t know why. 

This gloom intensified during the night, long after she’d washed and retired to bed, even into the early morning of yet another cloudy day. There was no more dallying. She was due back at school today whether she wanted to or not, yet Carla huffed when she rose from bed to gather her things together. All she’d managed to accomplish this holiday was being angry with Father and pushing Pio away for two days. By the time she warmed up to him, it was time to leave. 

Strange, but she really didn’t want to go back so soon. She and Pio had just started getting along and talking a little more. She would have loved to spend another day with him, but that was her own fault for being so cruel at the start. 

A knock came at the door, Pio slowly opening it to see Carla hovering over her suitcase, having already packed everything. Even from where he stood, Carla could hear Pio inhale. “You are leaving?” 

She nodded. “I have to this time. I’m due back at school. 

“I see.” Closing the door behind himself, Pio then approached her side, watching patiently as she finished up her tasks until Carla was certain everything was in its proper place. “When will you be back?” he asked. 

Carla shrugged. “December, hopefully. I usually stay two weeks for my birthday and for Christmas.” 

Pio’s expression lifted. “I will see you again, then?” 

Carla stood straightened once her luggage was all accounted for and tidy, facing him to see that bashful smile of his, and she couldn’t help herself. She smiled. “Of course, Pio. Knowing you’ll be here for me will be worth the wait. You’ll read the book I got you?” 

Nodding, his smile widened. “As many times as I can until I memorize it.” 

“You don’t have to go that far.” Laughing in spite of herself, Carla had to look away for a moment if only to solidify her resolve, because never did she ever have this much trouble saying goodbye to Father. He wasn’t even here to see her off, not that she thought he'd be. But Pio was here. She’d much rather have him anyway. 

“Would you like to eat breakfast with me?” Pio asked. 

Her heart ached, because, “No, unfortunately, I can’t this morning. It takes a few hours to travel back to the Charity House, not counting the carriage rides and train switches I’ll have to account for. If I want to make it there by this evening and settle, I must leave now.” 

Never had she ever seen someone’s light leave them so quickly, as not only did Pio’s hopeful eyes fall, but his smile disappeared, his whole body slumping with the rejection, and Carla had never felt so awful in all her life. It wasn’t as if she wanted to hurt him, but sometimes the truth could be so bitter and cruel. 

“I’m sorry,” was all she could say. “But for Christmas, when I’m home, I’ll eat breakfast with you everyday.” 

That perked him up some, Pio’s mouth curling into a melancholic smile, where he then took a step forward. “Can I at least walk to the station with you?” 

Carla nodded. “Of course.” 

“I will carry your things.” 

“Of course.” She couldn’t ignore the butterflies in her stomach then, the way her chest tightened as Pio took it upon himself to assist her, as was his proclivity. How sweet he could be, she hadn’t the heart to tell him no when he was so determined. If he wanted to be her little gentleman, then she would let him. 

“Will you wait for Father?” he asked, bags in hand. 

Carla laughed, not even bothering to hide the disdain. “Absolutely not. If I waited for that old man, I’d be here another week. He knows I’m leaving—he’ll send a letter. If that.” 

“Ah…” Pio stayed silent while they carried on downstairs, until they were walking outside the garden to the awaiting carriage that would take them to the country station. “Would it be alright if I wrote to you while you are in school?” 

Almost tripping over her own feet, Carla gave a start, not meaning to, but taken aback by such a request. “If you’d like to, you can write me whatever you want. I’d love to hear about what you’ll be up to while I’m gone.” She smiled then. “Tell me about the book while you’re reading it! I want to know what you think.” 

His smile returned, as did his blush. “Of course. I am excited to read it. I will tell you all about it.” 

“Can I write you too?”

Pio nodded. “That would make me very happy. I want to know about the books you are reading as well.” 

 They climbed into the carriage, the stagecoach assisting Pio in making certain Carla’s luggage was secure. The dirt path that opened up to the country was right before them, Carla watching as the villa grew smaller and smaller, lamenting the loss she would miss with Pio. She wished she had gotten more time with him and hadn’t been so dismissive from the start. Had she known how sweet and charming he was, Carla would have opened up to him much sooner, but she only had herself to blame for that. Really though, she couldn’t be entirely at fault for it, considering Pio was one of Father’s creations. She suspected he would have acted just like him, or if not that, then only acted as per his protocol, whatever it may have been. 

But Pio was different. He took initiative, he considered her feelings, he was quite shy, even for the silliest of things, but what set him apart from the others was his kindness. For every puppet that obeyed without question, Pio could still make his own choices, he still acted of his own volition, and Carla knew better now that even though he was a puppet, he still deserved to be treated fairly. 

And now that they were coming upon the station, Carla sighed, hating how their time had been cut so short like this. December was a long way off, and she knew the coming weeks were going to be agony. She wished she could take Pio to school with her, but there was a whole process involved with that, mostly getting her father’s permission, and there was just no time for that now. 

But maybe in the future. 

Once they disembarked and Carla was steps away from the train, she took pause, finding her feet were firmly planted. She didn’t want to get on that train for once. And this time, it wasn’t because she missed Father, or longed for his company. 

She turned, seeing Pio look down at her, his soft smile so tender and comforting as he patiently awaited whatever her whims were, and maybe it was silly (just a little), but before Carla went too far, she released her suitcase before flinging her arms around Pio’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. He actually gasped in surprise, startled so suddenly that he didn’t even move for a few seconds. But eventually, his warm embrace met her back, his arms holding her tight. 

She squeezed him as hard as she could. “I’ll be back in December. I can’t wait to see you again. Thank you, Pio.” 

The little gasp of astonishment he made did not go by unnoticed. He nodded, his hug so warm that she really hadn’t wanted to let go. “I cannot wait, Carla. I will be waiting for you. Thank you as well. I really enjoy spending time with you.” 

“Me too. Please take care.” She broke the hug, and it was one of the hardest things Carla had ever had to do in her life. Three measly days had passed since she met Pio, but already she felt as if she’d known him for much, much longer. He was like an old friend she’d always had, but had forgotten about during the passing years, and being with him again rekindled a sense of ease and belonging she’d been lacking for so long. Being apart was already cold, and she missed it. 

She tried not to look back as she boarded the train. Found her compartment. Settled in with her luggage. Sat by the window where she could still see him and he spied her too quickly. Pio waved, his smile sad, but the gesture one that reminded her they would reunite soon. 

It still saddened her, even as she waved back, even as the train lurched forward to begin her journey. Only when the train pulled from the station and out into the country did Carla feel truly alone, having already grown so used to Pio’s presence. It was maddening in a way, to long for someone she’d just met, but his smile and his kindness had won her over, and as she sat there staring out the window, Carla tried not to grow teary eyed when she realized something. 

She liked him. She actually liked him. 

Her heart pounded, almost painfully so in her chest, familiar heat rising to her face, because this was embarrassing. 

She really liked him. He was just a puppet, but he acted so much like a real boy that half the time, Carla forgot that he wasn’t human. She couldn’t like a puppet. Could she? Such nonsense was mocked in society, tabloids and gossip spreading stories about people who fell in love with their maid puppets or butlers. They were always laughed at. If not shunned entirely. 

But even knowing that, Carla didn’t care, because Pio could easily pass as a real boy. He was different. He was special. Pio was much more than just a puppet. He made her chest warm, her heart flutter, her stomach fill with butterflies. 

And she liked him. 

Chapter Text

Winter holiday could not have come quick enough. Knowing the next two months were going to be a slog, Carla was impatient to no end when December finally approached, and for once, it was not out of an inherent pining to spend a little time with Father. Oddly enough, ever since she’d come back to school, Carla hadn’t thought of Father all that often, her mind instead drifting to Pio more than anything. 

At first it shamed her to be thinking of a puppet so often, but as the days grew shorter and darker, Christmas not far in the near future, Carla had already made up her mind that dwelling on such nonsense was futile. It didn’t matter if Pio was a puppet. She liked him. 

Which made getting his letters all the more exciting. Anytime the postmaster would deliver a letter, Carla wasted little time in ripping it open to rove the contents like a starving animal devouring a meal. Her lack of subtlety even caught the attention of her friends who teased her about having a love interest, which Carla always adamantly denied. Pio was just a friend. And even then it had been like pulling teeth to admit that alone to herself. 

His letters were sweet, if not a bit brief. She received one biweekly, telling of his endeavors, which weren’t very fantastical, to be honest, not that she suspected they’d be, but he did go into detail about the books he was reading. Carla always enjoyed settling at her desk with a coffee while she read through his letters, the last of which she had received back in November, where Pio had expressed he couldn’t wait to see her again. Carla already replied the moment she could, probably sending him more letters than he sent her. 

But they suddenly stopped. Carla had written to him not long before she was due to return to the villa, asking if all was well, and ensuring she would come home within a few weeks. No reply ever came. Perhaps the postal services were simply busy during the holidays, but Carla still fretted over not hearing from him in so long. 

His last letter was kept stored in her bag, and more often than not, Carla retrieved it to reread the contents over and over. His handwriting was rather childish in a sense, not at all elegant and flowing like Father’s, but it made her smile to know he had taken time out of his day to sit and compose such a thing for her. He really had kept his word, stating he’d read the book multiple times, and couldn’t wait to hear about her time at school when she returned home. 

Christmas break couldn’t get there quick enough. After not hearing from Pio in so long, Carla was worried, even writing to Father in an effort to gauge his well-being, but of course, Father never replied either. Not that that was a shock. All in all, Carla was wound up by the time holidays arrived, her bags packed and ready before she could even think twice. Once waving and hugging her friends goodbye, Carla was on the train to Krat Central Station, each hour passing serving to fuel her nerves all the more. 

It was early evening before she got a carriage to take her to the country villa, the station absolutely swamped with people who were rushing to squeeze in last second holiday travel—Carla included. There was only lamplight to guide her when she finally settled in, the last stretch always the worst. She just wanted to see Pio so badly that it killed her. 

How ironic that not once had Father crossed her mind in her travels. Even now, Pio was the one she couldn’t wait to see and fling her arms around. Her heart was pounding—she was nervous. Would he be excited to see her too? She hoped he was alright. The past few weeks having not heard a peep from him made her worried, and she sat bouncing in her seat, wishing her stagecoach would pick up the speed. 

Finally, after an agonizingly long ride, Carla saw the familiar sights of the warm glow of lamplight from the windows of Father’s villa. She nearly flew out of her seat when the carriage came to a stop, barreling over the walkway of the garden and being quite ungraceful when she tripped, nearly toppling over. But she couldn’t get to that front door fast enough. Even the puppets who tried to stop her attempts and assist were bypassed easily. 

Within seconds, she wrenched the door open, and called out, “Pio?!” before anything else. She didn’t know why she expected the boy to appear from thin air, having begun hunting around for him in a desperate attempt to find him. 

A figure emerged from the nearby parlor, Carla whipping her head around to see—oh, just Father. She hadn’t meant to deflate so much at the sight of him, because even Father noticed how her face fell. “Oh Carla—you’re home rather early. Is everything alright?” 

Carla nodded, still glancing around and trying her hardest not to seem as if she was about to die if she didn’t see Pio right now. “Yes, I’m well. I managed to leave early this morning.” And just to prod Father a little, she crossed her arms. “Are you not happy to see me so soon?” 

Father’s eyes went wide and he batted one hand to wave her off. “Of course not, I am pleased you’re here. It’s just supper is not quite ready. You normally arrive much later in the evening.” 

She tapped her foot impatiently. “I don’t mind waiting.” And she couldn’t stand it a moment longer. “Where is Pio?” 

Father’s face scrunched in consternation. “Who?”

Oh right—he’d never even been around when Carla had named him before. A bit flustered but no less haughty, Carla spoke slowly, “The puppet you made. I call him Pio.” 

“Pio?” It was then that Father made a head tilt of acknowledgment, a smile even forming. “Oh—the puppet. I’ve forgotten about him, I’m afraid.” 

That was not reassuring at all, Carla’s heart sinking at such an admission. She quickly pressed him, “You didn’t dismantle him, did you?” She might lose her mind if she found out Father had done away with Pio while she’d been gone. 

Father laughed. “Oh no, nothing like that. He’s asleep.” 

“Where?” 

“In my study. Carla, you—” But she didn’t even give him the chance. 

Having left Father mid sentence, Carla made way for the stairs, ignoring him when he called after her. She cared not a bit as she climbed up the stairs, half expecting Father to follow her, but not surprised when he stayed put, at least for the time being, probably figuring it was not worth the effort to stop her when she had her mind set to something. 

Within moments, she stormed his study, spying the chair where Pio had first woken up, a sheet draped over to hide his body. It was quickly thrown to the side, and Carla gasped at the sight of Pio before her, sitting motionless just as he’d been when she first met him. She’d missed him so much, unable to stop the smile that formed instantly, and she fumbled with the mechanism on his chest to wake him back up. Shame on Father for casting him aside like this. It was no wonder she stopped receiving letters from him. Had she known Father had put him back to sleep, Carla would have probably left school much sooner. 

But that was neither here nor there. With some fumbling, she managed to push the mechanism into place, watching in awe when Pio’s eyes fluttered open, a distant, vacant glaze about them as if he had awakened in a daze from a deep sleep. He peered about sleepily, not even seeming to recognize her at first, which made Carla’s anxieties flare to life all the more while she waited for Pio to gain his bearings. She had to be patient, knowing it would take him a few extra seconds, but she’d been waiting for two months to see him already, and couldn’t stand to wait another second. 

Finally, his eyes glimmered with clarity, landing to her own, and the soft smile he made could have caused Carla to weep if she hadn’t caught herself. She grinned wide, unable to stop from asking, “Do you remember me?” a bit afraid he might not for some reason. There was no telling what all Father had done to him while she’d been at school, as her imagination went wild with fears that Father would have taken him apart right after she grew so fond of him. 

But Pio’s smile softened, just as he nodded. “I do. I have missed you, Carla.”

The exclamation of joy she made propelled her forward where she wrapped both arms around him, squeezing him tight. God, she’d missed him. How dare Father put him back to sleep—she had so much catching up to do, so many things she wanted to talk to him about, but Carla tried to resist the urge to bombard him so soon, settling on hugging him close. When he held her back, his warmth was unparalleled, settling every single one of her nerves to rest, and she could sigh in utter contentment, lost in his embrace, holding him tight, enveloped in his warmth, in his tenderness. Carla didn’t want to even let go, just wanting to bask in his presence for as long as she could. 

Pio said nothing as she cradled him, simply soaking up the moment as long as possible before she forced herself to back off and at least give him a chance to stand away from the chair. Carla held her hand for him to take, helping to pull him up, smiling up at him. She felt the heat travel to her face. “Good morning, sleepyhead—well, it’s no longer morning. How are you?”

Pio nodded. “I am well. May I ask, what day is it? You are home rather early.”

Carla stood back to give him some space now, peering around Father’s study to find it still messy as ever, as was his lifestyle. She could barely contain the urge to bounce up and down on her feet, never so happy to see someone so much in her life. Just being with Pio again gave her immense happiness she couldn’t quell, and she didn’t even want to hide it. “December the eighteenth. I’ve only just returned from school. I came as soon as I could.”

Pio’s eyes went wide, then he paled quite suddenly. “Ah—I thought it was November. I do not even remember being put to sleep. I am sorry, Carla. You must have been worried.” 

“I was, but I can be angry at Father for it later. Right now, I’m just happy and relieved to know you’re alright.” She didn’t bother relaying that she feared Father had taken him apart, but now that she was overcome by her excitement, Carla was about to burst. “How are you? I want to sit and chat. Tell me everything you’ve been up to since I’ve been gone.” 

Pio was just about to open his mouth and respond, but Father appeared in the doorway then, heaving a sigh when he saw the puppet up and about, not soon after shooting Carla a disapproving glare. “Carla, I was trying to speak with you before you ran off. Be careful with puppets like him—he could be fragile.” 

Carla held her ground, noting how all of the joy was sucked out of the room the moment Father entered. She crossed her arms. “Why did you put him to sleep again?” 

“Preservation. He still isn’t perfect. He can run out of energy.” 

Carla huffed, not believing such a lie. “The other puppets that wander around seem to have no issues functioning. Did you just want him out of the way?” 

Father was unamused by her hounding and shook his head. “Carla, what I do in my work is no matter to you. You aren’t the one who built him, so you have no idea what sort of maintenance I must perform. I put him to sleep to monitor his condition. Now, will you cease your presumptions and come down for supper?” 

In the past, had Carla been invited to supper by Father, she would have leaped at the opportunity to spend a little time with him, but now, after all his disinterest and absence, Carla only frowned before she glanced at Pio. “Only if Pio can join us. He eats.” 

Father also stole a glance at Pio who had stood by the entire time with a reserved silence as they had their back and forth. “I’m aware he can eat. If that will please you, then he can join us, I suppose.” 

Getting Father to compromise with her on any issue was a win, so Carla soon lit up with joy, taking Pio’s hand before Father could change his mind where she led the pair from the study. Father followed behind with a rather studded silence, Carla able to sense some tension rising, but she ignored it while they made way for the dining room. In a matter of seconds, they were seated, Father at the end of the table, with Carla and Pio seated side by side nearest him. 

Carla wasted little time, “What did you think about the book?” 

Pio’s shy smile surfaced, and he nodded. “I liked it. Reading about magic in such fantastical ways was fun.” 

“Did you have a particular favorite part?” 

“I liked the part when the witch was introduced. You think she will be evil, but she was misunderstood.” 

Out of the corner of Carla’s eye, she could see Father staring at the two, having no earthly idea what they were going on about. It amused her to no end having him sit there in awkward silence while the pair essentially ignored him, but now he knew how she felt every time she came home. 

Their nonsensical talk of books continued on for about two courses before Father finally interjected. “So Carla, tell me how school has been.” 

Rather put off Father was changing the subject, Carla huffed somewhat before turning from Pio to give Father at least some attention. “School has been fine. My grades are superb. I’m learning a lot.” Then back to Pio where she smiled out of instinct. His little bashful face was quite adorable while he picked at his food, eating his pasta very slowly, but always paying mind to Carla’s stories when she went on a rant. 

Father cleared his throat before speaking up again, Carla able to sense how out of place he felt. It shouldn’t have been so funny to her, but could he really blame her for choosing to spend time with a puppet over him? He said he’d created Pio to be a companion for her, after all. Maybe he didn’t expect her to grow so fond of him this quickly. Or at all. “You know, Antonia’s Christmas gala will be in two days. I’d like for you to attend with me, and wear that pretty green dress you look quite lovely in.” 

Carla could only sigh, not exactly shocked Father had brought this up. It was that time of year, Antonia always hosting these parties for her close friends and certain hotel guests. Truth be told, Carla enjoyed attending the gala, if only to see Antonia, but she could do without the mingling and being carted around by Father who would inevitably flaunt her skills as if she were an achievement. But. 

She turned to Pio before back to Father. “I’ll attend if Pio can come.” Then quickly she asked Pio before Father could reply, “You do wish to come, don’t you?” 

Put on the spot, not that Carla had meant it, Pio nervously floundered at first, stealing a glance at Father who Carla could tell was displeased by such a request, yet he said nothing while Pio struggled to answer. Then finally, “Y-yes. If Father will allow it, I would love to attend a gala.” 

Carla smiled. 

Father frowned. But he soon sighed, slumping in his chair, and without much of a fuss, admitted defeat. “I suppose there's no harm. It would teach him a few things if nothing else.” 

Pleased, and shocked that Father had agreed so easily, Carla’s smile couldn’t be contained if she tried. She nearly bounded out of her chair to clutch Pio’s hands before catching herself and remembering she had to remain composed. But her heart was soaring, her body alight with a joy she couldn’t express with words or feelings alone. She was just happy. 

And to see Pio’s little subtle smile of triumph made it all the better. 

For once in a long while, Carla was beside herself with excitement to go to the gala. Normally, Father would cart her off to these events with little care to spend time with her, if he wasn’t going to flaunt her around to his business partners and whatnot. Carla couldn’t count the amount of times Father pulled her away from chatting with a few ladies to present her to a group of men who crooned about how beautiful she was, and how she looked nothing like Father. But now, she could finally attend with a friend at her side, and to say she was looking forward to it was an understatement. 

When the night of the gala arrived, Carla had nearly tumbled over her own feet to assist Pio in dressing, even though they had plenty of maids around to help with that. She was mostly eager to see him in that dashing black outfit they’d purchased him all that time ago, and Pio did not disappoint. Once all was said and done, Carla’s smile couldn’t be contained when he stood before her, looking so distinguished and elegant. 

“You’re so handsome,” Carla finally said, knowing no other way to express just how dashing Pio was. 

His shy blush appeared, Pio tilting his head slightly, which was rather adorable. “Thank you. You are very pretty as well.” 

Honestly, Carla hadn’t paid much mind to her own dress, simply taking Father’s suggestion and dolling up in a green silk gown, her hair even curled and tied into a messy bun. Carla never was one for extravagant fashion, but standing at Pio’s side, his black garments complimented her green dress rather nicely. 

“Thank you,” Carla finally said, unable to take her eyes off him, though she tried her best. “I’m honestly excited. There will be dancing, I’m sure.”

His blush fading, now replaced by a disquieted sort of expression, Pio twiddled his fingers. “I-I do not know how to dance.” 

Carla laughed. “I’m not the most stellar dancer either, but if we find a secluded little spot, I could try to teach you some basics.” 

Pio lifted his face, his smile reappearing. “I would like that, Carla.”

A puppet entered the room soon after, imploring the pair the carriage was ready to leave. Pio held out his arm for Carla to hold, which she gladly accepted, still so charmed by the fact he insisted on escorting her around. It was cute. 

Admittedly, she was a little nervous about attending a gala with Pio, if only for the curious onlookers who knew Father personally. She wondered if Pio was realistic enough to fool them into believing he was human. He acted (and looked) the part already, but considering he resembled her so much, the rest of the guests might assume she and he were twins. 

Not that Carla minded that much. It was a little awkward when Pio could make her heart race sometimes, and she found herself blushing at his smile more times than she could keep track of. She wished Father hadn’t made him resemble her so much when she wanted nothing more than to lean into Pio’s touch and dance with him at the gala. 

Carla tried to push those thoughts away, because who cared what others thought? She was still excited. 

They climbed into a carriage with Father not long after, Pio and Carla sitting side to side with Father across from them. He was also dressed rather handsomely tonight, with a proper tailcoat and top hat to complete his ensemble. Carla never grew used to seeing Father in such clothes, but she continued conversing with Pio during the ride until Father suddenly broke through their chat once they’d switched the carriage to board the train. 

“How has moving been for you?” he asked Pio once they were settled into their compartment, his hands linked together when he leaned in slightly. 

Taken aback that Father was addressing him (as Carla couldn’t remember if he’d done so at all during the evening), Pio gave a small start before straightening, folding his hands into his lap. “I am moving well. I have experienced no issues.” 

Father nodded. “No loss of consciousness? You’re eating just fine?” 

Pio nodded. “My energy levels are sufficient for standard tasks. Food neither hinders my energy nor amplifies it. I am very well off.” 

Father nodded again. “I see. I’m quite amazed you’re functioning as well as you are. Our puppet technology truly knows no bounds.” He adjusted in his seat before settling down once more. “I’d like to introduce you to a few business partners of mine. Simply an introduction.” He momentarily glanced at Carla, and then back. “I know you’d rather experience the gala for all it has to offer.” 

Pio gave a slow nod. “Yes, I understand.” 

Carla huffed from her spot right next to him, not at all pleased Father was going to be stealing Pio away from her the moment they arrived. “Does he have to? I’m sure he has no interest in being paraded around like a puppy doing tricks.” 

Father frowned, none amused. “I am not parading him around, Carla. Don’t forget that he is still a puppet. I say it again—you are not the one who built him. I’d very much appreciate it if you kept your opinions to yourself, especially when my investments are involved. You keep your tongue in check.” 

Carla’s face was red, she knew, as she could feel the heat building throughout her entire body. She tried her best not to shout when she replied, “He’s more than a puppet. You said it yourself to treat him as a person.” 

“And I am. You’re the one who’s playing with him as if he’s a doll.” 

“Ah.” At this moment, Pio’s quiet voice rose up from the tension that was building, and he quickly interjected, “She does not play with me like that, Father. Please do not speak to her this way. She means well.” 

Both of them turned to Pio, Carla able to tell that Father was positively fuming, his cheeks red from it, as both she and her father tended to redden in their face the same way while angry. But through whatever sway Pio’s attempts at peace were then, Father relented, sinking back down into his seat, and Carla was shocked he hadn’t thrown a tantrum about the two essentially ganging up on him that way. But it was true. Father was such a hypocrite. He was the one who only saw Pio as a puppet, not Carla. 

Father sighed either way. “I know she means well. I wouldn’t drag you away all evening. I know you two wish to spend more time together. It would only be for a few minutes.” 

Even hearing Father admit that was alarming. Carla wasn’t thrilled about it, but if only for Pio’s sake, she admitted a truce and let the matter lie. The remainder of the train ride was carried out in some rather awkward silence between Father and the pair, but Carla soon perked back up once they disembarked the train to ride another carriage, and it was no time that their destination came into view. 

It never failed to impress her how large Hotel Krat was, but considering it was once a castle, that should have come as no surprise. Yet, Carla was always in awe over its grandeur, and oddly enough, she felt under-dressed for the occasion, to put it plainly. It was silly, but the hotel called for long flowing dresses befitting a princess, not a Christmas party evening gown. 

Once they exited their carriage, Pio held his hand for Carla to take, helping her out before giving his arm. She looped her own around his, and noticed how Father stood in some rather stiffened silence behind them while they walked down the street toward the hotel. Father said nothing at first, as if contemplating whether or not to say anything, but he finally cleared his throat once they came upon the massive double doors that led to the entryway. 

“If you two hold one another like that, people may mistake you for a couple.” 

“So?” Carla didn’t even turn to acknowledge him, content just where she was. Regardless of whether people thought they were a couple or not, Carla cared very little, even about the elephant in the room, mainly that they looked like twins. Let Father stew in that one all he wanted. It was his fault anyway. 

Father said nothing. 

Their advent was greeted by an usher who led them through the double doors into the massive entry hall of the hotel. Already, guests were piled from wall to wall, the buzz of chatter filling the place until everything was quite lost all at once. Carla didn’t see Antonia anywhere, but Father broke from the two, much to her immediate relief, to seek out his business partners or whatnot, while Carla led Pio away from the more congested crowds to an emptier space by the serving tables. 

She grinned wide. “What do you think?” 

He was looking on in silent bewilderment, eyes scanning the place top to bottom, noting the elegant chandelier that hung from the ceiling, along with the sweeping decorative sashes that draped along the walls, banisters, the myriad of paintings that clung to the walls, even the plush carpet beneath their feet. This may have once been a castle, but the modernization was obvious. It did not detract from its elegance, however. 

Pio took a few moments to really take it all in, his arm still looped around hers, before he finally turned, slack jawed, eyes twinkling. “It is amazing! I have never seen a ceiling this tall.” 

Carla’s grin couldn’t be contained. “I know! I’m always taken aback how massive the hotel is each time I visit. I never get used to it. Come, look.” She tugged him by the arm just as a group of ladies began migrating their way, Carla taking that as a sign to leave, because she knew they all had their eyes on Pio. He followed along while she tugged him toward a side door that led out into the courtyard. 

Snow had settled onto the statues and walkway, the benches also white from the cold. Red hollies dotted the otherwise unblemished landscape, looking very festive and beautiful. Pio looked on in continued silence as he took it all in, admiring the frozen fountain along with the statues. It was a nice quiet little corner outside of the hotel, if not chilly, and Carla subconsciously leaned into him while he studied the area. 

“Isn’t it pretty?” she asked. 

Pio nodded, finally glancing down where his smile met hers. “Yes. It is very pretty. Your green gown stands out beautifully in the snow like this.” 

She had to laugh, and noticed only then that while her breath steamed in front of her, Pio’s did not. Had the average person noticed it, they might have caught onto the fact he was a puppet. It was a little jarring, but Carla wasn’t put off by it. 

“You’re quite the charmer, Pio. You make me laugh a lot.” She blushed, leaning in closer, able to feel the sinking weight of his own body when he moved in to greet her touch. They were as close as they could be. “I’m still sorry for how I treated you at first.” 

Pio shook his head, his smile soft. “Do not worry about that, Carla. I have already forgotten about it. But thank you for still wanting to spend time with me.” 

“I love spending time with you.” She sighed, a little chilly out in the snow like this, but since it was nice and quiet, Carla didn’t mind the biting cold too much. “I wish you could come to school with me.” 

“That would be fun, but I fear I may hold you back.” 

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. She barely caught the sound of the small inhale he made, but Pio didn’t dare brush her off. “I’d be elated if we could be together more often like that. I missed you so much while I was gone. Anytime I ventured off into daydreams, I always found myself thinking about you one way or another.” She sighed, closing her eyes to breathe in the cold night air. “This is embarrassing to admit, but I really like you, Pio.” 

“I really like you too, Carla. I am happy you feel the same.” 

Having it all out in the open like that truly did wonders to soothe some of Carla’s reservations. She’d spent so long at school fumbling over this revelation only to tumble headlong into it full force, but now—as they stood in the frozen courtyard, surrounded by snow and red hollies, Carla warm in Pio’s embrace, his breathing so comforting that she could have drifted off with her head on his chest right then, Carla didn’t care anymore how asinine this was. She was happiest with Pio, happy to spend all her time with him, and she smiled at his kindness, having never felt this way about a boy before. He was the first. And what irony that he was a puppet. 

But he was real enough. 

“Carla?” 

The voice that cut through their serene peace nearly sprawled Carla straight out of her own skin. She’d jolted with such force that Pio was almost knocked over—and Carla turned to see Father stepping from the side door. Maybe he hadn’t seen them. He didn’t look angry. Not yet anyway. 

He merely glanced her way before beckoning them both forward. “Come, both of you, if you please.” It didn’t appear he’d noticed them holding one another that way, or if he did, he didn’t care. 

Carla inhaled a sigh of both relief and annoyance, for she knew this was to be the moment when Father was going to take them both aside and introduce them to people Carla cared very little about. At least if he got this over and done with from the beginning, she and Pio could use the rest of the evening for their own devices. With all that at the forefront of her thoughts, Carla trudged forth, Pio not far behind, to join Father’s side back inside the warmth of the hotel. 

There were a lot of people here now, the buzz of their chatter a bit overwhelming, though most were too absorbed in their own affairs to notice Father leading the two around before settling near a small table where several posh gentlemen sat. They all looked up once the trio approached, and one man rose to his feet the instant he set eyes on Carla, his face lighting up. 

He gave a polite bow, his smile wide beneath his well-groomed mustache, and he lifted her hand, giving a cordial kiss to her knuckles. “Ciao, bella signora. So pleased to see you again, Carla.” 

Carla could only smile a bit bashfully, never used to the way Venigni’s rather heavy handed charm served to render her a bit speechless. She knew he was teasing in a way, but doing it in front of Father was embarrassing. Still, she kept her composure enough to offer a small smile. “It’s nice seeing you as well, Mr. Venigni. How is business?”

With an overly dramatic flick of his wrist, Venigni gazed skyward before emitting a sigh. “Drab, I’m afraid. There is little use in possessing all the money in the world if the machines cannot keep up with production.” 

“Perhaps heavy maintenance is in order?”

“Perhaps.”

Father cleared his throat before Venigni could go off on a tirade, “Gentlemen, you all know my daughter, Carla.”

Here Carla was put on the spot, only able to stand there quite awkwardly while she was gawked at by the men who’d remained seated. They did not rise like Venigni did to croon over her like usual, which she was ever so grateful for, but they did focus on Pio who kept at her side, saying nothing while Father ran through the introductions. She certainly wasn’t going to go out of her way to rub elbows with any of these people. Their line of work didn’t concern her, and she knew this was all an elaborate excuse for Father to show off his work, that work being Pio himself. 

Right on cue, Father continued. “If you will notice the young man at my daughter’s side, you may mistake him for a human, but he is in fact, a puppet.” 

The seated men’s faces all rose in curiosity, even Venigni’s. 

“He is capable of learning, eating, feeling—honestly, there is very little this puppet is incapable of. Puppet technology has transcended what we originally thought was possible only a year ago, from the manual laborers to the maids, even the teachers for our children, this puppet is quite unlike any of them. His creation did not come without its fair share of trial and error, but I believe we could take it even further than what this puppet can do.” 

Listening to Father prattle on about Pio as if he were some high end machine soured Carla’s stomach, because while she knew Pio was indeed a very advanced puppet, it still rubbed her the wrong way seeing him put on display like this. He stood there silently, being observed and leered at by Father’s investors, Carla only able to stand by and wait for it to be over. Pio said nothing, but his posture gave Carla the impression that he was at least somewhat uncomfortable. 

When Father finally ceased his numbing drabble, the men stood away from the table, approaching Pio to get a closer look at him. He really was like some priceless artifact on display, and Carla crossed her arms, stealing a glance at Father who smiled before crossing the space to meet her side. She didn’t bother hiding her displeasure when he drew close enough. “Are you quite finished showing him off like this? What happened to treating him like a person?”

Father chuckled, only serving to worsen her already poor mood. “Be calm, Carla. There’s no harm in letting them take a gander at him. Why not come with me and join me at the serving table while they’re occupied? We can have a meal together if you’d like—that gown is very fetching on you, you know. You’re very beautiful tonight.”

“No, thank you. I’d rather have a meal with Pio.” She hadn’t meant to let that slip so easily, as she would have been delighted in the past that Father was sparing the time of day for her, even blushing over the fact he’d called her beautiful, but she wanted to get Pio away from those men as quickly as possible, and even Father sighed in some surprise at the blatant rejection. 

A few moments passed in which they both watched the group of men fawn over Pio, Father saying nothing, but eventually, he placed a heavy arm around Carla’s shoulders, pulling her in before he bent down quickly to kiss her cheek. She reeled at the start, unsure why he’d done so, but just as soon as he’d done it, Father left her, moving back to the space where he began chatting up his investors, leaving her and Pio to their peace. She wasted absolutely no time in taking him by the arm to lead him away from the group, glad it was over and done with. 

With no goal in mind, just wanting some quiet, Carla dragged Pio up the nearby staircase, the poor boy nearly tripping over his feet in an effort to keep up with her. Once they’d reached the top, Carla made way for the nearby halls, traveling down the first set of double doors she saw to take them even further up the stairs. The hotel was very vertical once out from the massive entryway, and before she could stop herself, Carla had taken Pio up about three flights of stairs. 

It was incredibly quiet up here at least. Most, if not all, of the guests had gathered down on the ground floor for the festivities, so there was little risk of them running into any random people up here. Carla soon found a private enough sitting room that was unoccupied by anyone and closed the double doors behind them, heaving a huge, overly aggravated sigh. Pio held her hand, giving her a tender squeeze. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice a bit hesitant as if worried he was the cause of her behavior.

Carla nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

“My father.” Squeezing his hand back for some modicum of comfort, Carla turned to Pio, trying to smile, but being unable to in that moment. “He treated you like some sort of exotic animal down there. I knew he would call upon his vultures to come gawk at you like that. I’m certain you were uncomfortable.”

Pio shook his head. “I was not bothered.” Then he lifted Carla’s hand, holding it near his face. “If I am honest, I was more bothered by that man who kissed your hand. Who was he? Does he like you?”

Carla couldn’t help but snort through her nose, because—was that jealousy in his tone? She couldn’t tell. But with that one statement alone, Pio had managed to lift her mood in one fell swoop. “No—that was Mr. Venigni. He’s a friend of Father’s, and a business partner. I assure you that he does not like me, he’s just a bit eccentric. He does that every time he greets me.”

“Oh.” Pio’s eyes drifted to her hand, where he then pulled her closer to kiss her knuckles, and Carla could feel the heat blossom in her face. “I was a little worried, but I am glad.” Then he stared. “There was a strange feeling deep within my chest while I watched him kiss you. I did not like it.”

Carla knew her face was on fire, but she let the words tumble out unashamedly. “Do you like kissing me?”

He nodded. “I do, but I want to be the only one to do it.”

Carla laughed, having to look away from his genuinely serious face. One good thing about Pio was how unabashed he was, despite being somewhat awkward himself, he was always so kind and to the point. Carla didn’t have to worry about him leading her on when he always said what was true for him. “There are different types of kisses. Father will kiss my face sometimes to show…” here she meant to say affection, but trailed off, being unable to find the correct word, so she didn’t bother, “Mr. Venigni kisses my hand to show politeness. It’s typical for gentlemen to do so with ladies.”

Pio tilted his head to the side, glancing to her hand before his eyes met hers again. “I see. What other kinds are there?”

Carla smiled, peering around his shoulder to make certain the door was closed, and then out the window, around the room, making certain they were alone, before she took a breath. “I can show you.”

Pio leaned in, much too close. “Kissing?”

“Yes. Do you like me?”

Pio nodded, his smile shy. “Yes, Carla. I do like you.” 

“Then,” she did not bother finishing her sentence when she grabbed Pio by his cheeks, pulling him down to her level. He gave a jolt at the start, having not expected it, but soon gave over when Carla pulled his face into hers, kissing him on the mouth. There was the smallest noise from the back of his throat, vibrating onto her lips, as though he hadn’t the faintest idea what to say or do, before Pio finally fell lax in her hold, letting Carla kiss him as long as she wanted. And god, did she want to. 

His lips were soft, not at all what she expected. Everything about Pio was already so lifelike and warm, so it should have come as no surprise that his kiss was as tender as it was, yet Carla was amazed by it still. He may have been initially hesitant, but it melted away in mere seconds, Pio leaning into the kiss, Carla holding his face, his arms looping around her waist to hold her close, as if knowing instinctively what to do. 

His body was warm against hers, his frame slightly bigger, slightly broader than her own, and with his arms around her, Carla felt enveloped in such a safety she’d never experienced before, content as she’d never been before, as she kissed and kissed him, laughing through it when he met her halfway, pulling her in, and although somewhat stiff, she could tell he didn’t want to let go. But Carla eventually broke them apart, still cupping his cheeks, and the sight of how red his face grew beneath his freckles then swelled her heart how adorable he looked. Pio was speechless for a few moments, his eyes down casting, unable to focus on anything in particular, before he finally drew back up. 

He smiled just as Carla did, just as she wrapped her arms around him to embrace him fully, burying her face against his neck. “I like you too, Pio.”

His voice trembled somewhat at the start. “I-I can kiss you that way?”

She nodded. “If you’d like.” 

“I do like it. I really like it.”

Carla laughed. “Then you can kiss me all you’d like.” No sooner had she gotten those words out than Pio leaned away, maneuvering himself so that he could give her a proper kiss to the mouth again, and Carla kissed back, no longer ashamed, not even sure if she cared should someone walk in on them, but she stood there, letting Pio kiss her as long as he wanted, and he was so gentle, never holding her there too long, never pressing the kiss into her more than necessary. The second she pulled back even the slightest, he broke apart, his blush fading, but his eyes twinkling with newfound affection. 

“Carla,” he said, one arm around her waist, his other hand in hers, linking their fingers together where he gave a tender squeeze. “You are very beautiful tonight. You are always beautiful, but tonight you are very beautiful.” 

There was little hope in her resisting his charm, not that she wanted to, but Carla still blushed at his sweet words. “Thank you, Pio. You’re very handsome too. I knew those black clothes would suit you.”

He averted his eyes only for the briefest of moments. “Thank you. I wish I could dance with you while we are both dressed up, but I am afraid I would step on your feet. I do not know how to dance.”

“If you’d like, I could teach you some basics up here. We don’t need music if you don’t mind.”

“Really?”

She nodded, laughing quietly. “Here, it’ll take practice, but you hold your hand like this.” She took his hand, placing it above her waist, while holding out his other in a wider sweep. “In a waltz, you would lead, but I’ll show you the footwork.” 

Pio looked on with utmost interest, giving Carla his undivided attention while she showed him the basics of where to go. 

“You’re essentially creating a square shape with your steps, in a way. You move like this,” she stepped forward, Pio copying her very carefully so as not to accidentally run over her toes. His eyes were glued to their feet, Carla unable to help but laugh while they both took rather ungraceful, slow steps, Pio nothing if not efficient and mindful. Carla grinned. “You’ve got it! You step forward, sweep to the side, then back, just like that.” 

Pio finally lifted his head, his smile small and embarrassed. “I am very slow.”

“Yes, it will take practice, but if you keep at it, it’s not that difficult to get a handle of. There are more complicated dances, obviously, but for a beginner, you can practice that.”

“Thank you, Carla.” Once they both came to a stop, Pio leaned in again, surprising Carla when he gave her a quick kiss to her mouth, his blush (and hers), not far behind. “I will work hard to learn and get better.”

She smiled, wrapping her arms around him to pull him into a tight hug. “I can’t believe when I first laid eyes on you that I would be kissing you now, but I really couldn’t stop myself from liking you, Pio.”

He held her back, nuzzling against her when she pressed her face into his neck. “I am glad, Carla. You are very nice. I wish we could spend every day together. I missed you while you were away at school.” 

She squeezed him tighter. “I missed you too. Why don’t you come to school with me?”

The hold Pio had on her loosened then when he straightened up, his hands lowering to keep at her waist, and his smile fell lopsided. “I do not know if Father will let me.”

Carla scoffed. “Don’t worry about that old man. I’ll make him send you. If you want to go. Do you want to come with me?”

Pio’s face drew up so quickly that he nearly threw her off balance when he leaned in, Carla not expecting the sudden movement. “Of course, Carla—I would love to be with you.” 

All she could do was laugh, laugh and kiss him again, never remembering a time when she had laughed so much like this, when her chest felt so light and airy, when all Carla wanted to do was kiss him over and over. “Then I’ll make it happen.” 

Pio’s smile was tender, his shoulders drooping when he relaxed some, when his whole body seemed to deflate in relief, and Carla couldn’t help herself. She just couldn’t help it. She reached up to tousle his hair between her fingers, taken aback how soft it was, and pulled him down for another kiss. 

Convincing Father to let Pio join Carla at school was not exactly the battle she expected it to be. Once he’d effectively gained the trust of his business partners, Father seemed more willing to relinquish Pio to Carla’s care, so to say, and as such, the paperwork required for Pio to begin school was all it took for him to be on his way. 

Carla meanwhile was ecstatic, bouncing on the heels of her feet with too much excitement, even going out of her way to purchase more clothes for him to wear, other than the Charity House uniform, of course. He looked handsome in anything, so she was looking forward to seeing him dressed up for the occasion. 

The Christmas holiday passed by in fast motion once the gala had come and gone, Carla forever lamenting the loss of seeing Pio in such fetching garments while there. But, it just made it all the more special when they could have the opportunity to dress up for things like that again. In the meanwhile, she’d purchased him school supplies, some comfortable clothes, and other miscellaneous items for their journey. It was no time at all that the pair were already packing for their journey back to school. 

“You’ve all your clothes?” Carla asked. 

Pio nodded, holding up two large suitcases as if they weighed nothing. “Yes. And my supplies. And my uniform.” 

Carla checked her own items to make absolutely certain neither of them were leaving anything behind. It wasn’t as if Father would be around to mail it for them should they lose something, but after checking and double checking their luggage, Carla concluded they’d packed all they could and gave a satisfactory nod. “Alright. We’re ready.” She turned to Pio. “Are you nervous?” 

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all. I will be with you.” 

Unable to help it, Carla smiled as well, her chest warm. Pio was always so sweet and kind. She knew he’d do well in school, especially with his penchant for learning, she could see him soaring past the other students. “Let’s be off.” 

Pio nodded, following Carla down the stairs as the pair started out the front door. Carla insisted on getting a head start first thing this morning, and they were greeted by the snowfall that had descended overnight, covering Father’s garden in powdery, sparkling white. In a way, Carla was going to miss the villa, but in most ways, she was too excited to get back to school, knowing Pio would be there making it all the more comforting. 

Neither of them said goodbye to Father, not that he was even there to see them off, but Pio did not seem upset by it, therefore so too did Carla let it roll off her shoulders. Father would send a letter if he really wanted to speak to them, but if he never did, it certainly wasn’t going to hurt her feelings. In all honesty, Carla was simply looking forward to getting back to school, so Father hardly crossed her mind in the time it took the two to ride the carriage to the train station. 

The sky was mostly clear that morning, the sun peeking out from behind what few clouds there were, the vast blue above them so beautiful that Carla didn’t mind so much that all the light was reflecting off the snow, blinding them here and there. Once they were on the train, Pio let her sit by the window after they settled, scooting close until their thighs touched, and he gently took her hand in his when the train finally pulled out of the station. The tracks rattled beneath them, making their compartment vibrate, but absolutely nothing could quell Carla’s smile. 

“I can’t wait for you to see school. You’ll love it there, I’m sure.” 

Pio nodded, squeezing her hand. “I cannot wait, Carla. I want to learn, but I also want to spend more time with you.” 

She laughed quietly, leaning into him for some warmth, the train finally taking them round the city, far, far away from Father’s villa. “We’ll have plenty of time for that too.” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Without any shame, or hesitation, or any second thoughts, Carla nodded. “Yes, Pio. You can kiss me all you’d like.” 

Moving into her then, his kiss was soft, if not somewhat shy, but Carla found it irresistible still, smiling through it, kissing him back twofold. He blushed once breaking away, always so adorable doing so, and Carla quickly leaned in before he could say anything to kiss his cheek. 

Pio made a small gasp, his voice quiet. “Thank you, Carla, for letting me come with you.” 

Leaning down, her eyes cast out the window to watch the country landscape pass them by, wounding around the tall city spires, Carla lay her head against his chest, her hand in his, squeezing tight, able to hear his heart beating, and the sound could have so easily pulled her down into a pleasant dream if she allowed it. She closed her eyes, only for a moment, basking in Pio’s presence, comforted by his breathing, listening to the pounding of his heart over and over. 

She smiled, her chest swelling with joy. “You’re welcome, Pio. Thank you for coming with me.” 

Against his warmth, lulled by the beating of his heart, pulled down into the safety that being wrapped in his arms brought, and utterly at peace, Carla soon drifted off into a light sleep, her hand never leaving Pio’s. He brushed her hair from her face, smiling a tender smile, and kissed her forehead, leaning down in such a manner so as not to disturb her, allowing her to lean against him for support. 

The two stayed that way, curled around one another, for the rest of the journey. 

End