He was still lying on his bed.
Staring at the ceiling.
As if hoping it would suddenly crack open and reveal that all of this had been a dream.
The news article was still open on his phone beside him.
Dead.
Yesterday.
Alive.
Today.
And currently sharing a house with the Goddess of Love.
"…This is my life now," he muttered.
"Yes."
He flinched.
Right.
She was still here.
With a sigh, he pushed himself up from the bed and swung his legs to the floor.
"Don't do that," he said.
"Do what?"
"Answer my thoughts like that. It's creepy."
"I will attempt to be less efficient."
"That's not what I meant…"
He gave up and walked toward the door. She followed quietly behind him.
They stepped out into the hallway.
Everything looked the same.
The framed photo near the stairs.
The slightly faded wallpaper.
The faint smell of old wood and morning air.
He walked into the living room and stopped for a moment, scanning it carefully.
Same couch.
Same low table.
Same quiet atmosphere.
Nothing divine.
Nothing distorted.
Just his house.
Behind him, she looked around with calm curiosity.
"…Your home is pleasant," she said softly.
He blinked, slightly caught off guard.
"It's old."
"It feels warm."
He didn't answer that.
Instead, she asked another question.
"Where are your parents?"
His steps slowed.
"They're dead."
The words came out flat.
Simple.
Like he had said them many times before.
Silence followed.
"I see," she replied gently.
He didn't look at her.
"I live alone."
She nodded once, as if memorizing the information.
He turned toward the hallway again.
"I'm going to take a shower and change. Don't follow me."
"I would not."
He stopped in front of his bedroom door and glanced back at her.
"Just sit somewhere. Don't touch anything. And don't, I don't know… use divine powers on the refrigerator."
"I will refrain."
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"That didn't sound convincing."
She gave him a small, unreadable look.
He sighed and stepped into his room.
"And don't come in," he added before closing the door. "Seriously."
The door shut.
A few minutes later, the sound of running water filled the quiet house.
—
When he came back out, dressed in his spare school uniform, his hair slightly damp, he felt marginally more human.
Thankfully, he owned two uniforms.
Dying once was inconvenient enough. He didn't need laundry problems too.
As he walked toward the living room, he paused.
The television was on.
Morning news played softly in the background.
And sitting neatly on the couch—
Was the Goddess of Love.
Watching TV.
Calmly.
Like she had always lived there.
He stared.
"…You know how to use that?"
"It was intuitive," she replied without looking away from the screen.
He stepped closer.
She stood up immediately when she noticed him.
"Are you finished?"
"With what?"
"Bathing. And changing into your school uniform."
He blinked.
"…Yes. I'm finished."
She nodded once, satisfied.
"Good."
She stepped closer, examining him carefully.
"The uniform suits you."
He felt strangely self-conscious.
"It's just a uniform."
"It represents your current life," she said.
"That's a dramatic way to describe school."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Is it not important?"
He paused.
"…It is."
For a moment, the air felt oddly calm.
Then reality settled again.
He grabbed his bag from the table.
"So. You're really coming with me."
"Yes."
"And you're really enrolled."
"Yes."
He looked at her one last time.
Still wearing the same uniform.
Still looking completely composed.
Like this was the most natural thing in the world.
"…This is going to be a long day."
She gave a faint smile.
"I look forward to it."
He wasn't sure whether that was comforting or terrifying.
Probably both.