CHAPTER 8
Weeks earlier—
Renge stood under the flickering station lights, twirling the black lace ribbon on his wrist like a ritual charm. The city hummed around him, indifferent to the weight in his chest.
Ding.
His phone buzzed, the screen illuminating his pale face.
Rin: Onii-chan! I got accepted into Midorikawa university!
Renge stared at the message, a ghost of a smile touching his lips before it vanished. He swiped to another tab open on his browser.
Tuition Fees.
The number was a jagged mountain of digits that made his stomach twist into a cold knot. He looked back at Rin's message, his thumb hovering over the screen.
"Onii-chan will figure something out," he murmured.
—
The silence in the changing room was deafening. It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, pressing against the eardrums like deep water.
Renge didn't scream. He didn't even move. He simply stood there—midway through changing, completely exposed.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
"You..." Renge's voice was a jagged whisper.
"Renge, we're sorry..."
Renge hastily pulled up his leggings, then bolted. Tears streamed down his pale face as he fled.
(Renge-chan?)
When rehearsal began, the instructor entered the studio with a puzzled expression.
"Where's Renge-chan?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.
"She—" Kiyomi started.
But Miyu gently pulled his hand, stopping him mid-sentence. The instructor nodded, understanding immediately, and pressed no further.
Only two members of Cerb-3ros remained to train. From a technical perspective, the duo's performance actually improved. Their movements flowed with precision, their energy synchronized. But it felt hollow. Cerb-3ros wasn't Cerb-3ros with only two members.
(I wonder what Renge is thinking…)
Two days had passed since the changing room incident. Renge had not returned. Anxiety clung to the remaining members like a shadow.
Due to these events, Mio called an emergency meeting on Sunday morning to discuss Renge's absence.
She exhaled sharply, her finger tapping the conference table in rhythmic frustration.
"Has she been in touch yet?"
"No, she hasn't," Miyu answered, repeatedly trying to call Renge.
Kiyomi raised his hand timidly.
"Mio-san..."
"Yes, Sakura-chan?"
"What if Renge doesn't return?"
Silence slammed into the room as if Kiyomi had uttered a taboo. Miyu looked away, already knowing the answer. Kiyomi noticed and held his breath, dread coiling in his chest.
"Sakura-chan, if Renge doesn't return by next Wednesday—" Mio paused, steadying herself.
"This group will be disbanded."
Her voice was calm, almost clinical, yet the weight of her words roared like thunder. Something inside Kiyomi and Miyu cracked. They had hoped they misheard, but the message was crystal clear: bring back Renge before Wednesday, or Cerb-3ros would cease to exist.
After the meeting, outside the office.
Ding.
Kiyomi's phone buzzed. It was Takumi. He invited Kiyomi to meet him for a meal. They agreed to meet at the train station.
"Sorry, Miyu, Takkun just called me," Kiyomi said, bowing politely.
"It's fine," Miyu replied with a soft smile. "Enjoy your date, Kiyomi-chan~"
"Thanks, Miyu," Kiyomi answered, already running off.
He quickly changed back into his boy clothes, then made his way to meet Takumi. They boarded the train, which circled from the central district to the south, and headed straight to a café near the bay area.
"Welcome home, masters," a maid greeted as they entered Atelier Karina Maid Café.
"I am home," Takumi said excitedly, his eyes sparkling with a genuine enthusiasm.
"I am home," Kiyomi echoed, following Takumi inside.
A maid led them to their table with cheerful efficiency, the faint scent of coffee and pastries filling the air. Kiyomi felt a mix of nerves and excitement as he slid into the seat across from Takumi.
She handed them the menus.
"Masters, what would you like to eat?" she asked cheerfully.
"Omuraisu and orange juice," Takumi replied immediately, barely glancing at the pink, laminated menu.
"Same as him, but with milk," Kiyomi added quickly, hoping to get the maid out of the way.
The maid nodded and vanished into the kitchen. Kiyomi leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands.
"You've got a new hobby, Takkun?"
"Isnt she cute?" Takumi asked, his eyes drifting toward a maid serving a nearby table.
Kiyomi frowned slightly, following Takumi's gaze.
(Takkun… are you into maids, or just being pervy?)
"Takkun, you like her?"
"Her specifically?" Takumi scoffed, leaning back. "No, I'm just getting into maid stuff recently."
He pulled out his phone and opened his favorite gacha game, Idolmistress, showing a character wearing a maid outfit.
"Yumeko-chan is so cute," he giggled.
Kiyomi let out a long, silent sigh of relief. Reassurance washed over him. Then chuckled softly.
"Takkun… you invited me here just to show me that?"
"Yeah, I wanted to see how a maid looks in real life, for references for Yumeko-chan's outfit."
(I was just being paranoid. He's just a nerd!)
Kiyomi laughed, the tension from the morning meeting finally starting to ebb away. Not long after, their food arrived. But as the plates were lowered, Kiyomi's laughter died in his throat. His gaze locked onto the maid's hands, then traveled up to her face.
Takumi smirked, noticing the sudden silence.
"Is she your type, Kiki-kun?"
"No… no!" Kiyomi stammered, his chair screeching against the floor as he half-stood.
Kiyomi instinctively tried to follow her toward the kitchen, his heart pounding. He had to know. But a senior staff member stepped into his path, her smile polite but firm.
"Sorry, Master. This is staff-only," she said, physically guiding him back toward his seat. "Please enjoy your meal at the table."
Kiyomi sat back down, his mind reeling. He barely tasted the Omuraisu. As soon as they finished, he snapped a quic photo of the maid from a distance and sent it to Miyu.
(Renge…?)
As Kiyomi and Takumi stepped outside, the salty harbor breeze brushed against their faces, carrying the faint scent of sea and iron.
Through the café's large glass windows, Kiyomi caught sight of Renge. He moved with quiet grace, serving drinks and guiding customers with a practiced smile. Every motion was fluid, almost automatic—but to Kiyomi, the subtle tension in his shoulders and the way his fingers lingered on the tray betrayed a deeper unease.
Takumi glanced in the same direction, eyes curious. "Hmm? Who?"
"Nothing… never mind!" Kiyomi muttered, forcing a casual tone.
(He's hiding something… or maybe—)
The next morning, early and crisp, Kiyomi and Miyu returned to the maid café. Both were dressed as girls in one-piece white dresses, fully made-up. Kiyomi's pink wig bounced slightly with every step, while Miyu's blue wig shimmered under the soft morning light. A few guests glanced up as they entered, curiosity flickering across their faces.
A maid greeted them cheerfully.
"Welcome home, Mistresses. Table for two?"
"No, we're not here to eat," Miyu said smoothly. "We're here to work. You're hiring, right?"
The maid's eyes flicked to the recruitment poster taped to the glass door, then back to them.
"Oh, yes! Follow me."
They were led to the manager for a quick interview.
"Yes, we can start anytime!" Kiyomi and Miyu answered in perfect unison.
"Got it… flexible schedule and ready to start immediately," the manager confirmed.
Before they could celebrate, a maid burst into the room, panting, panic written across her face.
"Minami-senpai! We need help!"
"Help? Another circle wants a maid to entertain them?" Minami asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Can't you handle it yourself?"
"Who's going to work in the kitchen then?" the maid shot back.
Minami pinched the bridge of her nose, glancing at Kiyomi and Miyu.
"Yes… we can help!" Miyu said confidently, stepping forward—and not letting Kiyomi lag behind.
Within moments, the two were handed maid outfits and ushered into the bustling café. The otaku circle was already there, waving tiny light sticks and shouting character names like a spell had been cast.
Kiyomi froze, tray trembling slightly in his hands.
"Are… are we supposed to sing?" he whispered.
Miyu shot him a side glance, lips twitching with amusement.
"Let's use this as our idol training," she murmured. "Just pretend they're our fans."
The circle's excitement surged as the two stepped into position. Kiyomi attempted a delicate curtsy, nearly tipping over—but Miyu caught him mid-fall, spinning with practiced ease in sync with the group's chants.
The circle roared in unison, voices loud and unabashed:
"I am the bone of my cock
Meat is my body and heat is my blood
I have stroked over a thousand times
Unaware of shame, nor aware of pause
Withstood ache to chase pleasure, waiting for release
I have no regrets. This is the only path
My whole life was unlimited goon works."
An otaku shouted, "I wish for a girlfriend!"
"With a cock!" another chimed in.
Kiyomi and Miyu served their customers precisely as requested, smiles firmly in place, curtsying and nodding, keeping the energy high.
"Sakura-chan, you're so cute! Can we have a picture?"
"Miyu-chan is so smooth…"
Miyu leaned slightly, charmingly addressing the group:
"Don't forget to follow us on Juicetter and Idolgram~"
The two continued their performance, laughter and applause mixing with the clinking of plates. In this unexpected stage, Kiyomi and Miyu found themselves smiling genuinely, discovering the thrill of being adored—and perhaps, learning a little more about themselves in the process.
But then Kiyomi froze. Across the café, he saw Renge. Their eyes met for just a second before Renge bolted. Without thinking, Kiyomi stepped away from the circle, heart pounding.
Miyu followed immediately, concern flickering across his face.
"Ki—Sakura-chan, wait!"
The two raced after Renge, darting through street after street. Finally, they cornered him in a narrow alley. Tears streamed down his face, glistening in the noon light.
"What do you want?" Renge cried, voice cracking.
"Why didn't you come to rehearsal?" Miyu demanded, crouching slightly to meet his gaze.
"Don't you understand?" Renge shouted back, panic lacing every word. "I don't deserve to be an idol. I'm a liar!"
"A liar?" Kiyomi scoffed, stepping closer. "Is that why you've been running?"
Renge's shoulders shook as he sobbed.
"I… I'm not a girl." He sank to the ground, burying his face in his hands.
Miyu knelt in front of him, gently lifting Renge's chin and placing a firm hand on his cheek. Then, without hesitation, he pressed his lips to Renge's.
"It doesn't matter," Miyu said softly. "You don't have to be a girl to be an idol."
Kiyomi crouched beside them, placing a hand on Renge's other shoulder.
"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with us," he whispered, glancing at Miyu. "After all, we…"
"We're also boys," Miyu finished, a reassuring smile on his face.
Renge looked up at them, still trembling, his sobs quieting as disbelief and relief mixed on his face.
"Really?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"Really," Kiyomi affirmed, squeezing his hand gently.
Miyu didn't hesitate. He lifted his skirt and pulled down his panties. Kiyomi took a breath and did the same. Two chicks stood proud in the alleyway, right in front of Renge.
Renge stared. A chuckle broke through his tears, and that chuckle quickly turned into full, hysterical laughter. He stood up, lifted his own skirt, and pulled down his panties. His chick also stood proud.
"Cerb-3ros!" Miyu shouted. "Assemble!"
The three leaned in closer until they were a single unit. In that narrow space, the Cerb-3ros triple seven touched—a physical pact that sealed their secret once and for all.