"How can God just lie on the sofa like this? Kaguya-chan, I'll go get a blanket!"
Fujiwara Chika's energy returned in a rush, pink hair bouncing as she darted from the office before Kaguya could respond.
Kaguya Shinomiya stood speechless, the words she'd just spoken still hanging in the air like smoke that refused to dissipate.
Did Chika even hear me? Hozuki Nozomi is a married man. Yukinoshita's son-in-law.
The reminder felt hollow even in her own mind.
Fujiwara Chika had heard every syllable her best friend uttered—the weight of "married," the finality of "son-in-law."
But curiosity gnawed at her like a persistent itch.
If romance isn't possible, friendship is perfectly acceptable. Nothing wrong with wanting to know someone interesting, right?
She located Ai Hayasaka in the adjacent room, acquired Kaguya's personal cashmere blanket—cream-colored, impossibly soft, worth more than most people's monthly rent—and hurried back. The hallway smelled of floor polish and the faint sweetness of someone's forgotten tea, afternoon light slanting gold through tall windows.
Inside the office, she approached the sofa where Hozuki Nozomi lay.
His breathing came slow and even. Dark lashes fanned against cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and his lips—slightly parted—looked soft despite the masculine set of his jaw. The afternoon sun caught threads of his hair, turning black to something almost luminous.
Fujiwara Chika swallowed.
Just covering him with a blanket. Perfectly normal. Totally innocent.
She leaned forward, unfolding the cashmere with careful hands, and began draping it over his chest—
His brow furrowed.
Before her brain could process the movement, strong fingers closed around her wrist. His grip wasn't painful, but it was absolute, the kind of hold that didn't ask permission.
"Whoa—!"
The world tilted. Her knees hit cushion, her shoulder met his chest, and suddenly she was under the blanket with him, pulled flush against a body radiating heat like a furnace.
His arm wrapped around her waist—not tentatively, but with the easy possessiveness of someone reaching for something that belonged to him. Her spine pressed against the sofa back, her chest against his ribs, her thigh sliding between his as he adjusted her weight like she was nothing more than a pillow he'd misplaced.
Warm breath ghosted across the shell of her ear, raising every fine hair on her neck.
"Yukino, be good. Don't disturb my sleep."
His voice was a low murmur, rough with exhaustion, intimate in a way that made her stomach flip.
Then his breathing evened out again, and he was asleep—truly asleep—with her trapped in his arms.
Fujiwara Chika's mind went completely blank.
He thinks I'm his fiancée.
He's HOLDING me like I'm his fiancée.
Is he BLIND?
She could feel the hard plane of his chest through his shirt, the steady thud of his heartbeat against her breast. His scent wrapped around her—clean soap, something faintly woodsy, and underneath it all, the warm musk of male skin. One of his legs had shifted, his thigh pressing firmly between hers in a way that made heat bloom low in her belly.
Miss Yukinoshita couldn't possibly compare to me in terms of... generosity.
Her own chest was compressed against him, soft flesh yielding where it met solid muscle. She could feel exactly how generous she was, thank you very much.
No—that's not the point!
The point was that a man was holding her. A devastatingly handsome man. A married man who'd just saved everyone at the hospital with some kind of glowing healing ability that clearly exhausted him because he was sleeping like the dead while she lay here cataloguing every point of contact between their bodies.
She turned her head, intending to signal Kaguya for rescue.
But her gaze caught on his face—the aristocratic slope of his nose, the almost delicate sweep of his cheekbones softened by unconsciousness, the way his mouth curved just slightly even in sleep.
He worked so hard. He saved everyone.
Her desire to escape evaporated like morning dew.
I'm not thinking anything improper, she told herself firmly, even as her cheeks burned crimson. I just don't want to wake him.
She'd never been this close to a boy before. She'd expected panic, fear, maybe revulsion.
Instead, there was only warmth.
His arm tightened fractionally around her waist, drawing her closer still, and something in her chest went soft and quiet.
...This is okay. This is fine.
…
"Rustle, rustle..."
Kaguya Shinomiya's pen scratched across paper, the only sound in the office besides the soft breathing from the sofa.
"Chika, bring me the documents from the publicity department for stamping."
Silence.
"Chika!"
More silence.
Is the Student Council secretary slacking off? Do I need to discipline her?
Irritation flickered through her as she turned—and died instantly.
Fujiwara Chika lay curled against Hozuki Nozomi's chest like a contented cat, pink hair spilling across his shoulder, her expression one of pure, unguarded bliss. The blanket covered them both, but the positioning was unmistakable—his arm around her waist, her body pressed to his side, her face tucked against his neck.
Kaguya Shinomiya's brain short-circuited.
What. The. Hell.
You—I told you to WORK, not to sleep with someone else's FIANCÉ!
But even as indignation flared, something else flickered beneath it.
Looking at Chika's face—peaceful, happy, thoroughly wrapped in a handsome man's embrace—Kaguya felt a strange twist in her chest.
Envy, her mind supplied unhelpfully.
No. Absolutely NOT.
I do not like Hozuki Nozomi. He's a philandering scumbag who takes advantage of pretty girls. Why would I possibly be envious?
She shook her head sharply, trying to dislodge the unwanted thoughts.
...Although.
A boy like Hozuki Nozomi certainly deserved someone of her caliber.
But he's MARRIED.
Would the Miss of the Shinomiya Family actually compete with the Yukinoshita sisters for a philandering man?
Absolutely not. She was above such things.
And the first step was removing her best friend from temptation.
Kaguya strode to the sofa and gripped the edge of the blanket, preparing to yank it back and shake Chika awake—
A hand closed around her wrist.
The same movement, the same irresistible pull.
Her knees buckled, her body pitched forward, and suddenly she was falling onto the sofa, onto him, the cashmere tangling around her legs as she landed half across his chest.
"Wha—"
Before she could finish the exclamation, his other arm released Chika just enough to wrap around Kaguya instead, gathering her against his opposite side like he was collecting pillows.
The sofa was absurdly large—luxury furnishing for a Student Council that handled billions in budget—but even so, three bodies made for close quarters. Kaguya found herself pressed between the sofa back and Hozuki Nozomi's side, her hip against his, her shoulder tucked under his arm, her face inches from the column of his throat.
He smelled like expensive cologne and clean skin, something masculine that made her pulse stutter.
"Good girl, good Yukino." His voice was a sleep-roughened murmur, lips brushing the crown of her hair. "Don't disturb my sleep. I'm a bit tired right now."
He thinks I'm Yukino Yukinoshita.
My figure IS somewhat similar to hers...
Especially the chest.
Kaguya's cheeks flamed.
Wait—Yukino Yukinoshita's chest clearly surpasses mine now, doesn't it? When did that happen?
This scoundrel—is he doing this on PURPOSE?
Across his chest, Fujiwara Chika's eyes had cracked open. She met Kaguya's gaze and smiled—a thoroughly satisfied, thoroughly inappropriate smile.
Chika, stop looking so pleased! You look like a pervert!
Kaguya wanted to struggle, to protest, to extract herself with dignity intact.
But his arm was warm and solid around her, his heartbeat steady against her ribs, and the heat radiating from his body seeped into her bones like a drug.
...As Student Council President, I work so hard. Surely I deserve rest occasionally.
Her cheek found his chest. Her eyes drifted closed.
Why is this embrace so warm?
So strange...
When Ai Hayasaka entered twenty minutes later, she stopped dead in the doorway.
Hozuki Nozomi lay sleeping on the sofa, which was normal enough.
What was decidedly NOT normal was the pile of feminine limbs tangled around him.
Kaguya-san was tucked against his left side, one hand curled in his shirt, dark hair spilling across his shoulder. Fujiwara Chika occupied his right, her face buried against his chest, her arm draped across his stomach to almost touch Kaguya's hip. The blanket covered all three, rising and falling with synchronized breathing.
They looked like a Renaissance painting of something deeply improper.
Ai Hayasaka's gaze traced up to Hozuki Nozomi's face—the sharp jaw, the aristocratic features, the mouth curved in the faintest suggestion of satisfaction even in sleep.
"Truly a dangerous man," she murmured, more impressed than scandalized. "Worthy of being called a incubus."
He'd pulled Kaguya-san into his arms.
Kaguya-san.
The ice princess of Soubu Academy, the untouchable daughter of the Shinomiya zaibatsu, the girl who'd never let a man within arm's reach—and here she lay, curled against him like a house cat that had finally found a warm spot in the sun.
What else won't he dare to do?
But Hayasaka couldn't bring herself to interfere. If Kaguya-san had chosen to stay, that was her decision.
And besides...
If Kaguya-san falls in love, perhaps my workload will decrease.
Being attendant to a genius heiress meant having no life of her own. From 7 AM until she collapsed into bed at night, Hayasaka existed as an extension of Kaguya Shinomiya's will—a tool, a servant, a shadow without personal desires.
Kaguya could fall in love. Kaguya could lie in a handsome man's arms and feel his warmth.
Ai Hayasaka had no such luxury.
Her gaze lingered on the sleeping trio—on the easy way Nozomi's arms encompassed both girls, on the peaceful expressions on their faces, on the intimate tangle of bodies that spoke of trust and comfort and something she'd never experienced.
If I could...
She pushed the thought aside, moving quietly to Kaguya's desk. Documents needed organizing. Tea would need brewing when they woke. Life, as always, continued its demands.
But she allowed herself one more glance at the sofa before she turned away.
…
An hour later.
Fujiwara Chika's eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep, and immediately met Kaguya Shinomiya's gaze across the expanse of Hozuki Nozomi's chest.
Both girls froze.
The awkwardness was palpable—two best friends who had just spent an hour cuddled against the same man, neither willing to be the first to acknowledge what had happened.
"Hi, Kaguya-chan," Chika managed, her voice slightly hoarse. "Good evening!"
"Good evening your head—it's only afternoon!"
Kaguya's cheeks blazed scarlet. She became acutely aware of the arm still wrapped around her waist, the way her body had molded against his side, the lingering warmth in her skin where they'd touched.
She extracted herself carefully, sitting up and smoothing her hair with deliberate dignity.
"Don't misunderstand, Chika. I simply didn't want to wake him. That's the only reason I didn't struggle."
"Of course."
"He saved my best friend. He helped the Shinomiya Family resolve a crisis. He's a hero—it would have been rude to disturb his rest."
"Absolutely, Kaguya-chan."
Fujiwara Chika smiled—that same satisfied, knowing smile from before—and pushed herself upright as well.
"I understand completely."