The situation looked grim...
Just reading that text was enough to color the entire trip in shades of chaos.
But the young man was already on the bus, and there was no turning back. Besides, compared to getting shot between the eyes, this kind of content was positively tame.
After all, if he stood her up now —
Given Sakuraba Mitsuki's paranoid nature, she'd assume he was scheming against her. There was no telling what she might do as a preemptive strike.
Breaking the appointment was the worst possible move, regardless of his intentions.
Looked like he'd need to step up his game. As for how exactly this bizarre scenario would unfold... Oreki Gen didn't dwell on it.
The bus carried him from familiar streets into unfamiliar ones. Even the pedestrians grew visibly fewer. Empty seats multiplied... not surprising, really. The people who lived in this area had no need for public transit.
Oreki Gen stepped off.
Tall compound walls lined both sides. The streets were immaculate — not a speck of dust to be found.
Cherry blossom trees peeked over the walls.
Two months ago, this place would have been in its prime, petals drifting through the air like confetti. Now it was simply serene.
Walking these streets, Oreki Gen felt like he'd crossed into another world entirely. A commoner entering the imperial capital.
The Flowing Gold District's reputation as a forbidden zone for ordinary people wasn't entirely baseless. Every structure here stood like an independent estate, housing the powerful, the wealthy, and the well-connected...
He finally located his destination amid these streets.
Before him rose something resembling a private courtyard. Whether it was the threshold of the gated entrance or the fragrance wafting from within — tulips, or perhaps hydrangeas — everything spoke of another class entirely.
He stood at the gate and knocked on the heavy wooden door. Even the sound it produced felt different — this was no ordinary timber.
Soon, he heard footsteps. Someone opened the door from inside.
It was a girl... wearing a pale white kimono.
Oreki Gen blinked. Not because she was exceptionally beautiful — honestly, after transmigrating and encountering the likes of Sakuraba Mitsuki, Kikyou Satomi, Amamiya Momiji, and Kiyono Yuri, he'd developed a degree of immunity to pretty girls. What had once been the stuff of fantasy now felt like a commodity that wasn't exactly scarce.
It was that this girl, standing behind this particular door, didn't match any character in his memory. She hadn't appeared in the original doujin, either.
Especially inside Sakuraba Mitsuki's estate... Was this a new character? Had the correction effect manufactured an NPC? And did they really need to make a random NPC this cute?
The girl had large eyes and long, dark hair.
Her features were charming and adorable, carrying a touch of baby fat. She studied Oreki Gen with what seemed like curiosity.
"You must be Oreki Gen... Oreki-kun?"
Oreki Gen nodded, slightly hesitant. "Is Sakuraba-san here? She asked me to come."
The girl nodded vigorously.
"Yep! Big sis already told me about you. Come right in, Oreki-kun."
"Big sis?"
Since when did Sakuraba Mitsuki have a little sister?
This was something Oreki Gen hadn't anticipated. In the original story — no, even based on what he'd learned since transmigrating, Sakuraba Mitsuki was an only child. Not a brother or sister in sight. Her family seemed to have decided that this one girl was so exceptional, there was no point in having another.
And... the two of you don't just have completely opposite vibes — you don't even look alike!
The girl beamed sweetly.
"I'm Big Sis Mitsuki's cousin! I only just came to Sakurato recently. I'm Shinkai Yui! You can call me Yui-chan — that's what my friends call me!"
Wasn't this a bit too familiar for a first meeting? Or was this just her natural personality?
Either way, she was infinitely more likable than Sakuraba Mitsuki.
Oreki Gen nodded. "Nice to meet you, Yui-chan."
The girl's cheeks turned a faint pink, and she nodded emphatically.
Then she stared at Oreki Gen. Oreki Gen stared back. The sudden silence hung there until the girl seemed to realize, a beat too late —
"Oh! You're here for big sis... Sorry, follow me! She's in the studio right now!"
Rich people, honestly. They even had a dedicated art studio for her hobby.
Following Shinkai Yui's lead, Oreki Gen walked inside.
The front garden was lush with flowers. Pink and white hydrangeas intermingled, creating a sea of blossoms that was decidedly girly.
In a slightly more secluded corner, however, Oreki Gen spotted Queen of the Night tulips — a dark, almost gothic variety. That particular aesthetic had Sakuraba Mitsuki written all over it.
As for the ornamental rocks and koi pond, those were par for the course. This compound was large. Truly vast.
Through a covered walkway, Shinkai Yui finally brought Oreki Gen to a door.
"Big sis, Oreki-kun is here!"
She called from the doorway.
From behind the closed door came a familiar voice.
"I heard. You can go now. And remember — whether it's games or videos, don't spend too long on them. Just because your mother's out doesn't mean you can run wild."
Shinkai Yui's little face crumpled instantly.
"Ugh... I know, I know. Just don't go telling Auntie on me — I've been really good lately~"
"We'll see."
"Uuugh."
A meaningless wail of despair.
Unsurprising — the girl behind that door was barely warm even to family. Absolute fairness and zero favoritism?
Shinkai Yui glanced at Oreki Gen.
"I'll be off then~ Good luck, Oreki-kun."
What was that supposed to mean? Was it a dragon's den behind that door?
He'd never get an answer, though, because Shinkai Yui had already bounced off, clearly anticipating the dopamine hit of games and short videos before she'd even rounded the corner.
Oreki Gen stood before the door. Without much hesitation, he opened it.
A low, rolling sound as the door slid open. Light spilled in.
It was a spacious, well-lit art studio with doors on both sides.
Sakuraba Mitsuki sat before her easel in a clean, pale-pink dress, apparently still working on something.
She didn't look at Oreki Gen. But her profile was more arresting than distant Mount Fuji itself — a masterpiece anyone would want to own.
Light greedily kissed the side of her face. Strands of hair swayed gently in the airy breeze.
Downcast eyes. Long lashes. Just sitting there in silence, she outshone every neon-lit spectacle of every bustling night market.
Oreki Gen didn't gaze too long. Even though she was genuinely worth admiring, and the type you'd never tire of looking at.
"Should I come in now?"
"If you'd prefer to kneel at the door forever, I won't stop you."
Cutting, as always.
Oreki Gen slipped off his shoes and stepped into the clean, tidy studio.
Paintings lined the walls — some in color, some charcoal sketches. All her work, by the look of it.
Before the still-not-looking-at-him Sakuraba Mitsuki stood the familiar canvas — the same one she'd started in that classroom, now seemingly undergoing the final touches.
It was nearly complete.
In the painting, he sat by a window, gazing in a single direction, his eyes deep and distant.
It looked like him. It really, truly looked like him.
With no suitable topic of conversation, Oreki Gen didn't force one. He simply sat in an empty chair off to the side and waited. He wasn't in a hurry.
The girl would occasionally steal what she thought was a covert glance in his direction from the corner of her eye. But she didn't initiate conversation, either.
At some point, a servant brought in tea and doughnut pastries. Oreki Gen only sipped some water.
Until she finally set down her brush. About twenty minutes had passed.
"You're more patient than I expected, Oreki-kun."
Oreki Gen smiled. "Not disturbing someone who's focused on their work is just basic manners."
Sakuraba Mitsuki gave a noncommittal response. She stretched languidly.
She was wearing a dress, so Oreki Gen could clearly see her smooth, bare arms, and the clean lines of her underarms.
Pretty girls really were a feast for the eyes no matter which angle you looked from.
She turned to face him again, her gaze growing slightly more intent.
"Are you the type of person who likes to challenge yourself, Oreki-kun?"
Oreki Gen thought about it, then shook his head.
"More than challenging myself, I'd rather live comfortably."
Sakuraba Mitsuki's eyes narrowed. "Saying something so unambitious — aren't you worried I'll start to dislike you?"
Oreki Gen gave her an odd look. "I never asked you to like me. Why would I worry about you disliking me?"
...Sakuraba Mitsuki fell abruptly silent.
She was clearly struggling to mask her embarrassment.
Understandably so. Answers and actions that constantly defied her expectations... Was this young man interesting, or just weird?
Sakuraba Mitsuki collected herself. "I only said that because I thought you might not understand what I'm working on."
I honestly don't want to understand...
Oreki Gen smiled. "As long as you can do something with a clear conscience, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, right?"
Sakuraba Mitsuki's lips curled into what seemed like a derisive smile.
"Then I hope Oreki-kun can maintain that 'understanding' indefinitely."
She stood up.
Then she went and closed both doors. In an instant, the studio was sealed — only lamplight remained, the surrounding space shut off, creating a scene of two people alone together.
She turned back to face him, her gaze boring into his.
"Alright, Oreki-kun. Let's begin."
Because the source material was a doujin, did every line have to sound this suggestive?
Oreki Gen played dumb.
"Begin what?"
"Being my model."
"Didn't you just finish the painting?"
"Oh, I suppose I forgot to tell you first — what it is I'm actually drawing."
With that, Sakuraba Mitsuki turned around, retrieved something from a small cabinet behind her, and tossed it in front of Oreki Gen.
The gesture was dismissive, almost like charity. Oreki Gen didn't particularly care about the high-and-mighty attitude. He picked it up.
It was a sketchbook.
He opened it.
The first few pages were normal enough — seemed like a young couple's romance.
But a few pages further, the art style took a hard turn.
Passionate kissing, almost to the point of devouring each other.
Then clothing disappeared, piece by piece.
Then came far more... vigorous interactions.
Oreki Gen looked up, visibly taken aback, at Sakuraba Mitsuki.
The cold, proud girl wore the faintest trace of a smile.
"You understand now, Oreki-kun?"
He understood.
Why she'd used her time stop to do those strange things to him.
Why she'd unzipped his pants.
Why the text messages had contained those kinds of words.
All of it made sense now.
This painting-obsessed heiress, the only daughter of the Sakuraba family — was drawing doujin inside a doujin world. It was an inception, a goddamn nesting doll!