The early morning sunlight filtered through the gaps between the curtains and spilled into the slightly cramped living room.
Fujiwara Ai woke up because of a pleasant aroma.
It was the scent of miso soup, grilled fish, and freshly cooked rice blending together warmly in the air.
He slowly opened his eyes before sitting upright on the sofa while the blanket slid down toward his waist.
Because he had surrendered the bed to Yotsuya Miko last night, he could only spend the night on the sofa instead.
Although his body had already been strengthened by the system, the hard sofa still left his shoulders and neck feeling sore.
“Ugh…”
Fujiwara Ai rubbed his neck instinctively before glancing toward the bedroom.
The bedroom door remained open.
Nobody was inside.
The blanket on the bed had been neatly folded, making it look as though nobody had ever slept there at all.
Gone?
A trace of confusion flashed through Fujiwara Ai’s mind.
However, the faint sound of movement coming from the kitchen quickly erased that suspicion.
He stood up before walking quietly toward the kitchen entrance.
Then he saw a scene he probably would never forget.
Yotsuya Miko stood before the stove.
She wore his oversized white shirt, the hem barely reaching the tops of her thighs while revealing her long slender legs beneath it.
Over the shirt, she wore the dark blue apron normally used only by Fujiwara Ai himself.
Morning sunlight illuminated the side of her face, making her already pale skin appear almost transparent.
Several strands of black hair hung loosely beside her cheeks while swaying gently together with her movements.
At the moment, she concentrated completely on stirring the miso soup inside the pot.
Her expression looked incredibly gentle.
The sickly blackened atmosphere from last night had disappeared entirely.
If one ignored the strange little tune she hummed softly under her breath, a melody carrying a faintly eerie happiness that only Fujiwara Ai understood, she practically resembled the ideal newlywed wife.
Perhaps sensing the gaze behind her, Miko turned around.
The instant she saw Fujiwara Ai standing there, a bright smile immediately bloomed across her face.
“Good morning, Fujiwara-san.”
Her voice sounded sweet and natural as though this sort of daily life had already continued for years.
“Morning.”
Fujiwara Ai still felt slightly uncomfortable with this sudden role reversal.
He forced himself to maintain his poker face before speaking calmly.
“Why are you awake so early?”
“Because I wanted to prepare breakfast for Fujiwara-san.”
Miko carefully placed a bowl of soup onto the table before leaning toward him like a kitten waiting for praise.
“Thank you for taking me in last night.
This is my thank you gift.”
Fujiwara Ai lowered his eyes toward the breakfast spread across the table.
Although it naturally couldn’t compare to the perfection of his God Tier Cooking skill, the presentation and color showed obvious effort and sincerity.
“You didn’t need to go this far.”
He sat down quietly before picking up his chopsticks.
“It’s not troublesome at all.”
Miko sat directly across from him while resting her chin in both hands.
Her amber eyes stared fixedly toward him.
“As long as it’s for Fujiwara-san, nothing feels troublesome.”
Her gaze moved slowly over his body without even trying to hide it.
From the slightly open collar of his pajamas all the way toward his exposed collarbone that still carried the lazy atmosphere of just waking up.
It was a gaze that almost seemed to want to engrave every inch of him into memory.
Fujiwara Ai felt uncomfortable under that stare.
Still, he pretended not to notice while picking up a piece of fried egg and placing it into his mouth.
The flavor was mild.
Surprisingly, however, it suited his taste perfectly.
“Is it good?”
Miko immediately asked expectantly.
“Yeah.
It’s decent.”
Fujiwara Ai answered honestly.
The smile inside Miko’s eyes deepened instantly.
“That’s good.”
“Then from now on…
I’ll make breakfast for Fujiwara-san every morning, okay?”
The hidden meaning inside those words was already extremely obvious.
She was testing him.
Testing whether she could completely merge into his daily life.
Or perhaps never leave it at all.
Fujiwara Ai slowly set down his chopsticks before looking directly at her.
“Yotsuya.”
His tone became slightly more serious.
“Your house is only a few stations away.
You don’t need to come here every day.”
The smile on Miko’s face froze slightly.
Then she lowered her eyes while revealing a pitiful expression.
“But…
there are still those things at home…”
She pointed vaguely toward the ceiling.
Obviously referring to the spirits.
“Weren’t they already driven away yesterday?”
“Yesterday was yesterday…”
Miko lowered her head while twisting the hem of the oversized shirt around her fingers.
“Who knows if new ones will appear again today?”
“And…”
“…only when I’m beside Fujiwara-san do I feel that living actually means something.”
Fujiwara Ai immediately developed another headache.
This girl’s dependency level had already reached dangerous territory.
Yet blindly indulging her would eventually turn this apartment into her personal nest.
Just as the atmosphere between them became deadlocked.
Ding dong.
The apartment doorbell suddenly rang.
Both Fujiwara Ai and Miko instinctively turned toward the entrance simultaneously.
The softness inside Miko’s eyes disappeared instantly.
The blackened aura she had barely suppressed moments ago started surfacing again.
“Who is it?”
She immediately stood up intending to open the door herself.
“Stay seated.”
Fujiwara Ai pressed one hand onto her shoulder and forced her back down.
If she opened the door while dressed like that and happened to encounter a neighbor or delivery worker, his social death would arrive immediately.
Fujiwara Ai walked toward the entrance before peering through the peephole.
Outside stood a pink figure.
Carrying an enormous guitar bag while clutching another plastic bag in her hands.
At the same time, she repeatedly practiced bowing nervously toward empty air.
Goto Hitori.
Fujiwara Ai’s eyelid twitched slightly.
How exactly did she locate this apartment?
And why was she here this early in the morning?
He opened the door.
Outside, Bocchi had just begun practicing her one hundred and first knocking attempt.
The sudden opening of the door startled her so badly she nearly jumped.
“Hieeeeee!!!”
“Why are you here?”
Fujiwara Ai stood directly in the doorway without any intention of letting her enter.
“T That…”
Bocchi stammered while raising the plastic bag inside her trembling hands.
Her face looked so red it seemed ready to bleed.
“I…
I baked cookies for Fujiwara-san!
A as thanks for listening to my performance yesterday!”
In reality, she had remained too excited to sleep all night.
Before dawn even arrived, she had already gotten up to bake cookies.
Then she spent another two entire hours struggling mentally before finally gathering the courage to leave home.
Fujiwara Ai looked toward the bag of cookies.
The packaging remained simple.
Still, it was obvious they had been prepared very carefully.
Refuse?
Looking at Bocchi’s nervous eyes filled with expectation and fear of rejection, the refusal became difficult to say.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t expect you to know how to bake cookies.”
Fujiwara Ai reached out before accepting the bag.
Bocchi’s eyes instantly lit up.
“S so glad!
Fujiwara-san accepted them!”
She looked so happy she practically seemed ready to melt on the spot.
However.
At that exact moment.
A chilling voice suddenly drifted from deeper inside the apartment.
“Ai-kun, who is it?
Breakfast is getting cold.”
The form of address had changed.
From Fujiwara-san to Ai-kun.
And the voice came directly from inside the apartment.
Bocchi froze completely.
Slowly and mechanically, her eyes shifted toward the gap behind Fujiwara Ai.
Then she saw it.
A black haired girl wearing an oversized men’s shirt while exposing her long pale legs stood quietly at the end of the hallway.
One hand still held a soup ladle.
A terrifyingly gentle smile rested across her face while she stared directly toward Bocchi.
Yotsuya Miko.
“Eh…
ehhhhh?!”
Bocchi’s brain short circuited instantly.
What was happening?
Why was there a girl inside Fujiwara-san’s apartment?
And dressed like that?
Could this possibly be the legendary living together situation?!
“Aaaaaah!
I’m sorry for intruding!
I’m trash!
I’m a bug!
Please pretend I was never here!!!”
Bocchi released a string of incomprehensible screams before immediately turning around and fleeing.
Her guitar bag slammed violently against the doorframe with a loud thud, but she completely ignored the pain while scrambling desperately into the elevator.
Fujiwara Ai stared toward the now empty hallway.
Then he looked down toward the cookies in his hand.
Finally, he turned back toward Miko, who now radiated the atmosphere of a victorious champion.
“On purpose?”
He asked calmly.
Miko walked over gently before wrapping herself around his arm and resting her head against his shoulder.
“Because…”
She never finished the sentence.
“Ai-kun can only eat things made by me.”
Fujiwara Ai closed the door helplessly.
It seemed the so called Shuraba had already begun previewing itself inside his own apartment.
For the next two days, the atmosphere at school gradually became stranger and stranger.
Although Yotsuya Miko no longer openly marked territory the way she had before, she lingered around Fujiwara Ai constantly like a ghost.
No matter where he went, if he turned around, he would always discover her smiling quietly from somewhere nearby.
That omnipresent gaze continuously sent chills down Fujiwara Ai’s spine.
Meanwhile, Kitagawa Marin’s offensive became even more intense.
It seemed she genuinely had no understanding of the word give up.
Every day she visited class 2-F multiple times using excuses like asking for tailoring advice or discussing cosplay convention details while attempting to drag Fujiwara Ai outside Miko’s field of vision.
Each time she appeared, Miko’s expression visibly darkened several shades.
Even the classroom temperature seemed to drop slightly.
As for Bocchi.
Ever since being frightened that morning, she had practically vanished entirely.
Only every night would Fujiwara Ai receive long apology messages filled with distorted symbols and emoticons.
[I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…]
[I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see…]
[I should commit seppuku…]
[But…
were the cookies tasty?]
Fujiwara Ai sat quietly in his seat while looking toward the messages on his phone.
An overwhelming sense of exhaustion washed over him.
Finally, Friday arrived.
The instant Fujiwara Ai stepped outside the school gates after classes ended, he found himself intercepted by Kitagawa Marin, who had clearly been waiting there specifically for him.
Today Marin still radiated her usual energetic aura.
Her shortened school skirt revealed her long legs while her blonde hair sparkled beneath the sunset.
“Fujiwara-san!
I have something for you!”
Without giving him any opportunity to refuse, she stuffed a large bag directly into his arms.
“What’s this?”
Fujiwara Ai frowned slightly.
“It’s the outfit!”
Marin winked mysteriously.
“For this weekend’s convention!
I heard that super famous photographer will definitely attend too!
Since you won’t go with me, can you at least help deliver this to someone?
He’ll wait for you at the venue!”
“Deliver something?”
The excuse sounded unbelievably fake.
Still, Marin clearly arrived fully prepared.
Fujiwara Ai maintained his cold expression.
“Didn’t I already say I wasn’t going?”
“If you help me deliver it, then I’ll stop pestering you about conventions forever!”
“And…”
“…I also won’t tell anyone that you know how to make girl’s clothing!”
That was absolutely blackmail.
Very cute blackmail.
But still blackmail.
Fujiwara Ai sighed quietly.
He honestly didn’t care much whether others knew or not.
Still, exchanging one errand for some peace and quiet didn’t seem entirely unreasonable.
“Fine.
Send me the address.”
“Yay!
Fujiwara-san is the best!”
Marin jumped excitedly before taking advantage of the opportunity to hug him once quickly.
Then she immediately ran away happily.
Fujiwara Ai stared down toward the bag in his arms before shaking his head helplessly.
Just as he prepared turning around and heading home.
An eerie voice suddenly drifted from behind him.
“Fujiwara-san…”
“…are you going to the convention?”
Yotsuya Miko stood silently behind him before he even realized she had arrived.
Her eyes looked slightly hollow while both hands tightly gripped the straps of her schoolbag.
“I want to go too.”
“I want to see exactly what kind of world has captivated Fujiwara-san so deeply.”
Fujiwara Ai looked at her quietly.
Rather than allowing her imagination to spiral wildly at home or secretly stalk him there instead, it would honestly be safer bringing her along personally.
At the exact same moment, the system issued another mission notification.
[Ding!
Weekend Special Mission triggered: Shuraba at the Convention]
[Description: A cosplay convention is not merely a gathering for the 2D world.
It is also a battlefield where emotions collide violently.]
[Please simultaneously handle Marin’s enthusiasm, Miko’s possessiveness, and any unforeseen emergencies occurring during the convention.]
[Reward: Charisma +1.]
[This reward is a key step toward surpassing the human threshold of 80 Charisma.]
“Then we’ll go together.”
Fujiwara Ai answered calmly.
Miko’s eyes instantly brightened while all traces of gloomy atmosphere vanished completely.
“Really?!
That’s wonderful!”
She immediately hugged Fujiwara Ai’s arm tightly while revealing the smile of a victorious heroine.
However.
Fujiwara Ai still chose not to mention one important detail.
That so called unforeseen emergency might very well include a certain pink creature who could potentially appear at the convention too.