His aunt's words were cold to him. Oliver shook his head slowly as they began to register.

"You have to speak to your parents. Sweetheart, I understand you may think---"

"Think I love him?" Oliver's voice broke. "Auntie... I do. I do. I can't stress how much I adore that gypsy. I've dedicated the past several days to thinking about him, spending as much time as I could with him, writing and drawing and painting him. I cannot see it as... momentary infatuation..."

"How long has it been?" Sae tilted her head curiously.

"Perhaps a week..."

"And a week is enough to wish to throw your whole current life away?"

"I never liked this life. I never wanted to be married off to someone that will try to snuff the fire in me. I want to live out there. I hate this life. I hate this... 'utopia' in which nothing is right. I see homelessness and strife every day and I have to come here and live a perfect life and pretend no one is suffering, pretend I don't know that out there in the world are people that are living free, dangerous, with each day bringing new and unpredictable things. And I want that so badly... Have you never felt your heart inexplicably twine with a soul so like yours that you can see yourself in them without even trying? That they bring your free spirit out so flawlessly, as if you never had to hide it?"

He watched his aunt's eyes mist over, then a smile come over her face. "Oh, hon... You're so poetic when you feel so strongly... But you must tell your parents."

Oliver had been afraid of that. Of course he had to tell his parents. Why wouldn't he? If he didn't, they would assume he had been kidnapped or stolen away and send so many officials after him, and his supposed kidnappers. He sighed, and nodded. "Good." Sae stood and, with a long stretch, ushered Oliver out of the room. "Go get dressed, then, sweetie. We'll speak to them afterward.