"Then come along."
The words landed in Takahashi Mio's ears like a stone dropping into still water—sudden, heavy, sending ripples through her composure. For a long moment, she could only stare, stunned into silence.
The tone had been as flat as plain water. Completely devoid of emotion.
But that was exactly what made it unsettling. The more casual and indifferent the delivery, the harder it hit. It was framed as a statement—an observation, even—but the rejection within it was unmistakable. Crystal clear. Impossible to misinterpret.
Takahashi Mio suddenly felt very sober.
She and Shiratori Seiya had no emotional foundation. None. Regardless of his complicated history with Hōjō Shione, even if it was her sister he was meeting... wouldn't his connection to them always be closer than whatever this was with her?
She was an outsider. Someone he'd known for less than half a month. A transactional girlfriend in name only.
An indescribable emotion welled up in her chest—something hot and uncomfortable that she couldn't quite name. It wasn't exactly jealousy. But it certainly infuriated her.
Her hands, resting on her lap, clenched into tight fists. Her knuckles went white.
They've already broken up. So why—
Her sudden silence caught Shiratori Seiya's attention. He turned his head, studying her face with those dark, unreadable eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"Ah—!"
Takahashi Mio snapped back to reality like a rubber band breaking. A bright smile snapped into place on her face—too bright, too quick. She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit she couldn't seem to break.
"I was just joking! Since you two already have plans, it would be way too awkward to bring an outsider like me along, wouldn't it?"
She'd tried to control her tone. Tried to keep it light, casual, unaffected.
She failed spectacularly.
The words came out stilted, artificial—more jarring than if she'd simply agreed to go with him. Her attempt at breezy indifference only highlighted how much she actually cared.
Shiratori Seiya looked at her. Really looked at her, in that way he had that made people feel completely exposed.
"Do you want to go?"
The question was simple. Direct. No room for evasion.
Caught off guard, Takahashi Mio's eyes went unfocused. Panic flickered through her. Cold sweat dampened her clenched palms.
But she kept smiling—a stiff, frozen smile.
"Huh? No, I don't."
He said nothing. Just kept looking at her with that steady, penetrating gaze.
She lasted about three seconds before she had to look away, dropping her head to stare at the floor.
Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
She regretted everything. Regretted saying she shouldn't go. Regretted caring at all. Regretted letting him see that she cared.
"I really don't recommend you come along to meet Hōjō Suzune."
Shiratori Seiya's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. She looked up, surprised.
He was studying her profile now, his expression unreadable but his voice... explanatory. Almost gentle.
"That child has some personality issues. Her temper isn't great—even her older sister can't handle her sometimes."
Mio's fair ears twitched involuntarily. The tangled knot of emotions in her chest began, inexplicably, to loosen.
"Then... she's willing to go out with you?"
"Yes."
He nodded, completely matter-of-fact.
"She likes me."
"..."
Mio stared at him, momentarily speechless.
To so casually tell your girlfriend that another woman was in love with you—that was basically textbook scumbag behavior. The kind of thing that got characters ratioed on social media.
But somehow, coming from him, it didn't feel like that. He wasn't bragging. He wasn't being cruel. He was just... stating a fact. Like the sky being blue or water being wet.
*Is water wet though?
She found herself asking, despite herself, "Then you're still going to see her? Aren't you afraid she'll cling to you?"
"No."
The answer came immediately, without hesitation.
"If I avoided her just because she likes me, wouldn't that mean I felt guilty about something?"
He paused.
"What's impossible to be together is simply impossible. Otherwise, I wouldn't have posted that update with you. She can see it too."
"Oh."
The single syllable came out softer than she intended. Her flustered heart was slowly calming, settling into something steadier.
"You don't have to worry about your friends finding out either. It's just one photo—they haven't actually met me. If I change clothes, no one will recognize me."
"Oh."
"Alright. Issues resolved."
Shiratori Seiya zipped his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He looked directly into Takahashi Mio's eyes—that same penetrating gaze, but this time carrying something else. Something almost like... expectation.
"But compared to all these messy distractions, I hope you'll focus your attention on the tasks I've assigned you."
His voice was serious.
"If you don't meet the standard, you don't get a single penny."
With that, he turned off the air conditioner and walked out of the classroom, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway until they faded completely.
"..."
Takahashi Mio sat alone in the suddenly quiet room, staring at the door he'd disappeared through.
He's too much.
Going on what's basically a date with another woman, and he talks to me like that—like I'm the one being unreasonable.
She tried to summon indignation. Tried to work up some righteous anger.
But the more she replayed his words in her mind, the more a different feeling crept in.
He explained everything. He didn't have to, but he did.
He said she can see the post too. That means she'll know about me.
He said he's not avoiding her because he has nothing to feel guilty about.
Her lips curved upward without permission.
The smile started small, then grew. And grew. Until she was sitting alone in an empty classroom, grinning like an idiot at absolutely nothing.
Her radiant expression could have rivaled fireworks.
...
Meanwhile, at the Hōjō household...
Hōjō Suzune stood before her bedroom mirror, holding up one outfit after another, studying her reflection with the critical eye of an art connoisseur evaluating a forgery.
"This one's okay, but isn't it too soft? Doesn't suit my vibe at all..."
She tossed it onto the growing pile.
"This one's too loud. When did I even buy this?"
Another toss.
"This one's just ugly."
The chair. The bed. The floor. Her room was rapidly transforming into a disaster zone of discarded fashion.
At some point, she'd even dug out her middle school uniform and tried it on. Surprisingly, it still fit—years later, and her body hadn't changed that much. She stared at herself in the mirror, first stunned, then furious, and threw the uniform directly into the trash can.
Next: a white dress.
It fit fine everywhere except one rather obvious area. The fabric around her chest hung noticeably loose.
"Sis! Why are your clothes in my closet?!"
Silence from the other room.
...
After what felt like hours, Suzune finally settled on three barely satisfactory outfits and packed them carefully into her suitcase. The kimono she'd already purchased with her mother last month—that part was handled.
She wiped sweat from her forehead. Even her most intense piano practice sessions hadn't been this exhausting.
Finally done.
She flopped onto the bed, limbs splayed, staring at the ceiling. Clothes were chosen, but she still needed to review tomorrow's itinerary. Shiratori Seiya had asked earlier where she wanted to go in Tokyo, offering to make preparations.
She'd refused, of course.
As if I'd leave it to you, Seiya. Where's the fun in that?
A sly smile curved her lips. She curled onto her side, pulling her pale legs in, shrinking into a small, satisfied ball on the bed.
Pulling out her phone, she opened her notes app, ready to review her meticulously crafted plan one more time. She was flying to Tokyo with her sister tonight—everything had to be perfect. No loopholes. No mistakes.
She was halfway through her checklist when a notification popped up.
Shiratori Seiya: [New Post]
Suzune blinked.
He posted?
Shiratori Seiya never posted. His social media was basically a digital ghost town—no updates, no photos, nothing. Unless it was absolutely necessary, he didn't engage.
Curious, she tapped the notification.
The image loaded.
A photo. Intimate. Close. Shiratori Seiya and a woman she didn't recognize, pressed together like couples did in those sickeningly sweet relationship posts.
The caption: "Please take care of me from now on."
Suzune's heart seized.
It felt like a needle—sharp, thin, precise—piercing directly into her chest. Her pupils constricted. Her breath caught.
For one frozen moment, she couldn't move.
Then she shot up from the bed like a rocket, phone clutched in her hand, and stormed toward the living room.
"SIS!"