At night, neon lights reflected colorful ripples across the rain soaked streets.
The damp chill lingering after the rainfall mixed together with the aroma of grilled yakitori drifting from nearby izakayas.
Fujiwara Ai walked ahead calmly while two completely different tails followed behind him.
One was Kitagawa Marin, who continued chattering endlessly while trying every possible way to convince him to attend the cosplay convention using all sorts of ACG related temptations.
The other was Goto Hitori, who carried her heavy guitar bag while lowering her head and silently counting ants on the ground, wishing she could disappear into a crack somewhere.
“Hey, hey, Fujiwara-san!
Won’t you really reconsider?
Even if you just help me take a few photos!
I can even introduce you to that super famous photographer!”
Marin walked backward while clasping her hands together pleadingly.
Her large beautifully made up eyes blinked nonstop as she launched a full cuteness offensive.
Fujiwara Ai kept looking forward while maintaining the same steady pace.
“Not interested.”
This was already the thirteenth time he had rejected her.
For this type of energetic extrovert who refused to let go once they targeted someone, the best strategy was always cold treatment.
Although Marin truly was beautiful and possessed a top tier figure, randomly opening another route before stabilizing the existing ones, especially with a potential Yandere already lurking nearby, was no different from courting death.
“Ehhh so cold!
But somehow that aloof attitude makes my heart race even more!”
Instead of getting angry, Marin covered her face while letting out an excited squeal.
Was this what people called a masochistic constitution?
Compared to her, the other tail was much quieter.
Bocchi carefully maintained a distance of exactly three steps behind Fujiwara Ai.
That was her personal safe zone.
Close enough to feel Master’s presence.
Far enough to avoid getting burned by his overwhelming normie aura.
While lowering her head, she continued muttering to herself about what happened earlier at STARRY.
‘Master praised my song…’
‘Master handed me water…’
‘That bottle…
does it count as an indirect kiss?
No no!
My lips never touched the same spot!
But still…
that’s something Master held before…
should I keep it?
Ugh…
people would definitely think I’m a disgusting pervert…
but…
I really want it…’
Just as Bocchi remained trapped in a fierce internal battle between perversion and rationality, Fujiwara Ai suddenly stopped walking.
“We’re here.”
Fujiwara Ai stood before the station ticket gates before turning around and looking first toward Marin.
“You should head back now.”
The dismissal came mercilessly.
“Eh?
You’re kicking me away already?
Normally you should escort a girl all the way home, you know…”
Marin puffed out her cheeks unhappily.
Still, she was a gyaru who understood limits, at least most of the time.
After meeting Fujiwara Ai’s calm emotionless gaze, she knew continuing today was pointless.
“Fine, fine!
I’ll go home for now!
But I’m seriously not giving up!
Fujiwara-san, I’ll wait for you at the convention this Sunday!
Even if you don’t come, I’ll still bring that outfit just in case you suddenly change your mind!”
After saying that, she waved energetically before running through the ticket gate.
Her long blonde hair left behind a bright arc beneath the station lights.
Once that troublesome gyaru finally left, Fujiwara Ai shifted his attention toward Bocchi, who still stood there dazing blankly.
“Goto.”
“Eeeek!
Yes!
Present!”
Bocchi jolted violently before standing straight through sheer reflex.
The guitar bag hanging behind her nearly sent her falling backward.
“M…
Master, do you have any orders?”
Fujiwara Ai looked at her expression, which resembled someone awaiting final judgment, and slightly frowned.
Ever since yesterday, that title had started bothering him.
Master?
This wasn’t some strange master servant roleplay.
Being addressed that way by an ordinary high school girl made him feel suspiciously like some kind of creep.
More importantly, a title carrying such obvious subordination wasn’t suitable for building an equal relationship.
“Don’t call me that anymore.”
Fujiwara Ai spoke plainly.
“Eh?”
Bocchi froze immediately.
Panic visibly flashed through her wandering eyes.
“I…
I can’t?
But…
but Master is Master!
You fixed my effects pedal, played music with me, and…
and even acknowledged my song…
I can’t think of any title besides Master…”
Inside Bocchi’s poor and distorted social dictionary, someone occupying such an overwhelmingly dominant position while simultaneously saving her from despair could only be categorized as either God or Master.
“Use my name.”
Fujiwara Ai interrupted her rapidly spiraling thoughts.
“Fujiwara or Ai.
“N Name?!”
Bocchi’s pupils trembled violently.
Calling him by name?
Was such advanced normie communication really something an introvert like her could achieve?
“No no no no!
Absolutely impossible!
Calling you by name would make me explode!
I’d seriously explode!”
She shook her head frantically like a rattling toy.
Her face turned so red it looked ready to bleed.
Every fiber of her being resisted the idea.
Inside Bocchi’s brain, calling someone of the opposite sex by their name directly equaled dating, marriage, children, and finally a complete successful life.
For someone who struggled even maintaining eye contact, that leap was simply too gigantic.
Fujiwara Ai stared at her helplessly.
Was her social anxiety level a little too severe?
“Then just add san.”
He compromised slightly.
“Fu…
Fujiwara-san?”
Bocchi carefully called out with a voice tiny enough to resemble mosquito buzzing.
Though still nervous, it sounded far more normal than Master.
“Yeah.”
Fujiwara Ai nodded lightly.
“And speak louder from now on.
My hearing isn’t great.”
Actually, his hearing was excellent.
He simply hoped Bocchi could gradually become more confident.
“Y Yes!
I’ll work hard…
Fujiwara-san…”
Bocchi lowered her head while gripping her guitar bag straps tightly.
Despite her nervousness, warm emotions quietly spread throughout her chest.
He let me call him by name.
Does that mean…
we’re friends now?
To Bocchi, the word friend was practically legendary treasure level existence.
Yet now, that treasure suddenly seemed within reach.
“Go home.”
Fujiwara Ai said nothing further before walking through the ticket gates.
“Be careful on the way.”
“Yes!
Fujiwara-san…
you be careful too!”
Bocchi finally gathered enough courage to shout back.
Although her voice remained soft, it was much louder than before.
She remained standing outside the gate while watching Fujiwara Ai disappear around the station stairs.
A foolish grin slowly spread across her face.
“Hehe…
Fujiwara-san…
hehe…”
After finally sending away the two troublesome heroines, Fujiwara Ai still didn’t head directly home.
He still had one promise remaining.
The limited edition pudding for Miko.
Although he mentioned it casually earlier at school, for someone currently standing on the edge of becoming a full blown Yandere, promises like that practically became emotional lifelines.
If he failed to bring it, the consequences would definitely become terrifying.
After visiting several convenience stores nearby, he finally managed to secure the last two puddings.
Carrying the shopping bag, Fujiwara Ai slowly walked back toward his apartment.
The cool night breeze gradually dispersed the lingering smell of cigarettes and alcohol clinging to his clothes.
After reaching the apartment building, he instinctively glanced upward toward the second floor window.
The lights were off.
Yotsuya’s house was located far from here.
Miko should already be home by now obediently studying.
Or perhaps staring blankly at his photograph.
Still, something felt off.
Although Malice Perception remained silent, a faint sticky discomfort clung around him like invisible threads.
It wasn’t dangerous.
Just strangely suffocating.
“Am I imagining things?”
Fujiwara Ai shook his head before entering the elevator.
He soon arrived home and unlocked the front door.
The apartment was dark and completely silent.
Only the automatic entryway light switched on softly, illuminating the neatly arranged indoor slippers.
Fujiwara Ai changed shoes before walking into the living room and casually placing the pudding onto the coffee table.
“System, settle today’s tasks.”
[Ding!
Beginning task settlement…]
[1.
Savior of the Tailor Shop completed.
Rewards distributed.]
[2.
Shuraba Warning Mission completed.
You successfully survived the pincer attack of multiple girls while slightly advancing the Bocchi route.]
[Reward distributed: Charisma +1.
Current Charisma: 77.]
[Skill obtained: [Absolute Pitch (Elementary)]]
[Current Status Evaluation: Although the host is currently maintaining balance successfully, the emotional whirlpool surrounding you continues expanding. Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping.com.
It is recommended to establish a core target soon, otherwise the host may capsize at any moment.]
Fujiwara Ai rubbed his temples tiredly.
Charisma 77.
This value had already become frightening.
If previous charisma levels merely counted as attraction, then the current stage already carried traces of dangerous allure.
He walked toward the bathroom intending to wash his face.
Just as he leaned down and reached toward the faucet.
Tap.
A faint sound suddenly echoed from the bedroom direction.
It sounded exactly like bare feet lightly stepping across the floor.
Fujiwara Ai froze instantly.
He slowly turned off the faucet before holding his breath.
The sound disappeared completely.
As though it never existed.
But he knew absolutely that he hadn’t imagined it.
Someone inside the apartment?
A burglar?
Or perhaps something inhuman?
Fujiwara Ai narrowed his eyes.
His gaze instantly became cold and sharp.
Without turning on any additional lights, he quietly relied on the faint moonlight leaking through the windows while silently approaching the bedroom.
His soul existed as a higher dimensional existence originating from another world.
Against low level spiritual entities, he possessed overwhelming natural suppression.
If some filthy creature truly dared invade his territory, he didn’t mind scattering its soul personally.
And if it was human, then there was even less reason for concern.
Although his stamina stat remained only 8, he still possessed skills.
Soon, he arrived before the bedroom door.
The door remained slightly open, leaving behind a narrow gap.
The room beyond was pitch black.
Nothing could be seen clearly.
Fujiwara Ai inhaled slowly before suddenly pushing the door open while simultaneously pressing the wall switch.
Click.
The light turned on instantly.
The bedroom appeared empty.
The bed remained tidy.
Curtains fully closed.
Books on the desk sat arranged neatly.
No person.
No ghost.
Nothing.
“Did I hear wrong?”
Fujiwara Ai frowned deeply.
He entered the room before checking the wardrobe and windows.
Everything remained locked tightly without any signs of intrusion.
Had exhaustion finally started causing auditory hallucinations?
Just as he prepared to switch off the lights and leave.
His gaze casually swept beneath the bed.
It was an ordinary single bed.
The hanging bed sheets covered most of the underside space.
Yet during that exact moment.
He felt a gaze.
A wet gaze filled with suppression and longing quietly stared directly toward his ankles from behind the hanging fabric.
Fujiwara Ai’s heartbeat skipped violently.
Yet he neither screamed nor changed expression.
Years of maintaining a poker face proved useful now.
Pretending not to notice anything, he naturally turned around, switched off the lights, exited the room, and quietly closed the bedroom door behind him.
Back inside the living room.
Fujiwara Ai sat upon the sofa while staring toward the two puddings resting atop the table.
Cold sweat already soaked through his shirt.
Who was that?
No.
What exactly was that thing?
If it were an evil spirit, the pressure from his higher dimensional soul should have frightened it away long ago.
But if it were human…
Someone capable of silently sneaking inside his apartment and hiding beneath his bed…
“System.
Scan the bedroom.”
He silently ordered inwardly.
[Ding!
Scanning…]
[Scan complete.
Current bedroom life signs detected: 2.]
[One belongs to the residual aura left by the host moments ago.]
[The second belongs to…]
[Yotsuya Miko.]
Fujiwara Ai: “…”
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly between laughter and disbelief.
Miko?
When exactly did this girl sneak inside?
And hiding beneath the bed?
What kind of horror movie development was this?
Or had this become some kind of world record speedrun for Yandere anime progression?
He suddenly recalled the crushed pudding spoon from earlier.
As well as Miko’s somewhat broken smile.
So this…
…was apparently her version of disinfection.
Not merely biting him.
But completely invading his personal living space.