She had so much to do these past two days—preparing for her audition, memorizing lines, practicing expressions in front of the mirror until her cheeks ached. She'd fallen asleep almost immediately after getting home yesterday, her body too exhausted to even dream.
But when she woke up this morning, an inexplicable sense of panic washed over her, as if something wasn't quite right. The feeling clung to her like damp clothing, uncomfortable and persistent.
It wasn't until she was lying in bed, scrolling through her phone on a forum, that she suddenly remembered—she had forgotten to guard against Hōjō Shione.
Given Shione's reckless, almost manic personality, Takahashi Mio thought a night raid was entirely possible. The woman had no boundaries, no sense of shame when it came to getting what she wanted.
Before, Hasegawa Saori was there to keep an eye on her. But Hasegawa had gone to a kendo competition these past two days—completely out of reach. Mio could only rely on herself.
Her rationality told her that even if Hōjō Shione did launch a night raid, Shiratori Seiya wouldn't actually get involved with her. He wasn't that kind of person. She knew that, deep down.
But... what if?
She hadn't expected to lose her voice at the concert, but Shione had managed to make that happen through sheer force of will. When dealing with Hōjō Shione, being on high alert wasn't excessive—it was survival.
But she couldn't tell Shiratori Seiya these things. It would make her seem paranoid, obsessive, like a jealous girlfriend clutching at shadows. So she forced a smile and said:
"Starting at nine? Don't you know that after three days apart, one should look at a scholar with new eyes?"
She let out a light laugh, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "And I'm not as heartless as you say, am I? The audition is tomorrow. No matter what, I'm still going to be nervous, okay?"
She leaned closer, touching her eyelids to show off the faint dark circles beneath them. "I can't sleep well, so I might as well get up early and prepare more."
"It's not that serious," Shiratori Seiya said, his voice hoarse. Despite his sore throat, he gently comforted her. "Didn't Araki-Sensei say that your current skill level is perfectly fine for this play? You just need to perform normally."
Takahashi Mio sighed, staring blankly at the windshield in front of her. She knew he was trying to reassure her, but the anxiety still gnawed at the edges of her thoughts.
"That's easy to say," she murmured. "But it's my first time. I still feel very unsure..."
"It's always good to prepare a little more," she continued, her voice trailing off. "At least it can put my mind at ease. And even if I fail, I can say I tried my best..."
Shiratori Seiya said nothing more. Seeing her so diligent, his heart felt more at peace. The weight in his chest seemed to lighten, and his throat didn't hurt quite as much.
"Oh, right."
As if remembering something, Takahashi Mio suddenly perked up. "I know Hasegawa Saori went to a kendo competition. But what about Hōjō Shione? Shouldn't she be clinging to you every day? Why haven't I seen her today?"
"Her..." Shiratori Seiya paused, then briefly explained that Shione had gone back because of something at her company.
"No wonder."
Takahashi Mio scoffed after hearing it, then snorted. "But seriously, don't you think it's a bit too careless to let her live right across from you? Aren't you afraid she might suddenly do something?"
"Do what?"
Hearing the change in her tone, Shiratori Seiya couldn't help but frown. This was the downside of having a cold—his thoughts weren't as quick as usual. With the distraction of driving, he didn't immediately grasp what Mio meant.
"It's just... never mind." She waved her hand dismissively. "Who knows? Anyway, I feel like she has ill intentions toward you. She's plotting something deep."
"..."
Hearing her say that, Shiratori Seiya somewhat understood what she meant. She was probably jealous. He considered her words for a moment, then decided to alleviate her worries.
"It won't come to that."
He kept his eyes on the road, his tone measured. "Shione is only staying here for a while. After she's rested for some time, she'll probably be even busier than you. She won't have time to stay here. It's too far from her company—the commute takes a long time. Also, for safety reasons, the company will discuss it with her."
Upon hearing this, Takahashi Mio's delicate brows furrowed even deeper. She retorted, "Are you saying she'll leave after a while?"
"More or less. She won't be staying here for long, anyway."
"..."
It wouldn't be that simple.
Hōjō Shione was definitely not someone who would give up so easily. Even if it were herself—if she knew Shiratori Seiya lived in the same complex as Hasegawa Saori—she definitely wouldn't be able to rest easy. The jealousy would eat at her, keeping her awake at night.
And Hōjō Shione was clearly much more abnormal than herself. How could she just leave because of company matters?
So, thinking this way, her saying she would leave could only be a smokescreen to deceive Shiratori Seiya. A lie wrapped in sweet words, designed to lower his guard.
A familiar sense of unease welled up in Takahashi Mio's heart. The feeling was like cold water trickling down her spine, slow and chilling.
But before she could think too much, she patted Shiratori Seiya's shoulder and pointed to a pharmacy ahead. "Seiya, pull over at that pharmacy."
"Huh?"
Shiratori Seiya's gaze followed her finger, and he instinctively refused. "What are you doing? I already took cold medicine this morning..."
"Less talk." Her voice was firm, brooking no argument. "I'm not buying medicine just for you. Just pull over."
Perhaps feeling that her words were a bit too forceful, Takahashi Mio paused. Her tone softened as she gently explained, "You, you can just... consider this me exercising my girlfriend's privilege, okay? You promised me this before, didn't you?"
"..."
Shiratori Seiya was currently a bit sensitive to words like "promise." They carried weight he wasn't always ready to bear. Still, he pulled over as Mio requested.
Takahashi Mio said she wanted to buy something for herself, but she ended up buying a whole arsenal of medicines—dispelling cold, detoxifying, anti-inflammatory, cough relief—enough to stock a small clinic. She took out two boxes of Ryukakusan from the plastic bag and looked at Shiratori Seiya, explaining:
"Here. One box for you, one for me."
She held up the small box. "I know your throat must be hurting a lot right now. This will help a lot. You can take the others with your medicine at noon."
As she spoke, she popped out two pills, pinching them between her index finger and thumb. She brought them to Shiratori Seiya's mouth, her bright eyes fixed on him with unwavering focus.
"Good boy. Open your mouth, ah—"
Listening to her use a coaxing tone, like she was talking to a child, Shiratori Seiya instinctively wanted to laugh. But when his gaze met her eyes—that serious, gentle look—it seemed to transform into a warm spring, pouring into a vacant spot deep in his heart.
This feeling wasn't the warmth of caring for Saori. It wasn't the touching unconditional trust that Saori gave so freely. Nor was it the demanding confirmation of love he'd sought repeatedly during his passionate relationship with Shione.
This was something else entirely.
Acceptance.
For some reason, Shiratori Seiya felt like he could completely rely on Takahashi Mio. She didn't demand anything from him—she simply gave, freely and without expectation.
He instinctively opened his mouth and took the pill the girl offered. But perhaps due to his muddled state, he accidentally included her slender finger in the process.
The girl's cool finger, entering his mouth, carried the faint sweetness of Ryukakusan—a medicinal taste mixed with something uniquely her.
In an instant, Takahashi Mio's pupils dilated. Her pretty face flushed crimson, and her red lips parted slightly. The tingling sensation from her fingertip traveled straight up her arm, and she almost cried out. Her finger felt as if it had been electrocuted—a jolt of lightning that left her breathless.
She quickly pulled it back.
Turning to look out the window, her earlobes burning red, she repeatedly rubbed her saliva-stained index finger against her palm—as if trying to rub the sensation into her very bones.