The door opened.
And.
—SLAM!!!
The door closed.
"…"
"…Did you see?"
Beatrice — the one who'd slammed it shut.
I hesitated at her question for a moment, then gave up and nodded.
It had been far too striking a sight to lie about.
An absolute disaster zone. No, scratch that — just a disaster.
And that… white… ahem.
My gaze had reflexively shot straight to it.
Honestly, the impact was greater than when she'd first sauntered over to seduce me.
She was blushing in a way that didn't suit her at all, eyes averted.
…Was that really her true self?
What if it was all an act to break down my defenses?
What if even leaving the place a mess was calculated?
'…I can't let my guard down.'
Truly terrifying.
"Hard not to see it."
"…Forget it."
"That's going to be difficult. It was rather memorable."
"I said forget it."
"I'll do my best."
I played it off with deliberate nonchalance, reining in the turmoil inside.
"Want me to help clean up? Looks like it'd take a while on your own."
"No. Don't help. This is my mess. I'm not about to ask my target for a hand."
"I appreciate the consideration, but helping out works better for me too. You can't seriously expect me to wait outside in this heat."
Beatrice's face went a deep shade of red as she twisted a strand of hair around her finger.
Then, in a voice so small it could've belonged to an ant, she murmured.
"…Then wait just a little."
Swish.
Like a ninja, she slipped through the door and disappeared inside.
"…Don't peek."
Just when I thought she was gone, the door cracked open and she stuck her head out to issue that warning.
"I'm not going to peek. Why would I?"
"…You might."
She stared me down for a long moment as if to make sure I meant it, then retreated back inside.
I let out a quiet sigh and passed the time playing with Snowy, who was getting restless.
—THUD THUD THUD!
—CRASH CRASH CRASH!
…Some remarkably violent sounds were coming from beyond the door, but I made a point of ignoring them.
Time passed.
—Creak.
"You can come in."
Beatrice opened the door with a composed, graceful posture, as if she'd never been flustered a day in her life.
"Ugh—"
Then she winced and shuddered as a bead of sweat from her forehead dripped into her eye.
At this point, I genuinely couldn't tell what she was going for.
I shook my head inwardly and stepped inside.
"Pardon the intrusion."
A wave of cool air-conditioned air greeted me.
Ah. Now I could breathe again.
I wiped the sweat from my face with my sleeve and looked around.
For all that commotion, not much had actually changed.
What was different?
Oh — the scattered clothes and underwear were gone.
Beatrice, who had apparently read my gaze, was suddenly very interested in something on the far wall.
She scratched the back of her head and spoke.
"So… that… this place, I just haven't had time to clean. I'm out a lot."
"Ah, is that so."
"…It's true."
Beatrice made a pitiful face, as if deeply wronged.
But I didn't let myself look at it properly.
That expression was obviously another performance designed to lower my defenses.
Never let your guard down.
Never let her into your world.
Or you'll get swallowed whole.
I carefully set down Snowy's carrier in the cleanest corner I could find.
Then I gave the poor thing some water and food — she'd been hungry.
"A little disappointing, honestly. I didn't expect that furball to be moving in too."
"You don't like cats?"
Beatrice glanced down at Snowy for a moment, then shrugged.
"Animals in general, not really."
"Why not?"
"Can't read their thoughts."
With that, she headed into the living room.
I followed.
'Nice place, though.'
My old house had been pretty decent, but this was practically a small manor.
And she'd reduced this magnificent space to an absolute pigsty.
Beatrice clearly had a remarkable talent for making a mess.
"Let's get started."
"Right. Let's knock this out fast."
We divided the work.
I took the larger spaces — the living room and such.
Beatrice handled the side areas.
Sorting the empty snack bags for recycling.
Re-rolling the half-unraveled toilet paper.
Putting the stray batteries back into the TV remote.
…………
………
……
…
A big house means a lot of ground to cover.
The living room was almost done, but how long would the rest take?
I exhaled heavily and checked under the sofa.
Sure enough, something was wedged in there.
'…A school uniform?'
Not from our school, but definitely a uniform.
She goes to school?
A Nexus executive attending high school felt somehow strange—
Oh, right.
I'm the son of a yakuza boss.
I was in no position to talk.
I'd been diligently clearing away clothes when I noticed I'd missed something still tucked under the sofa.
I should bring this over to the laundry area—
Hm? Something else came out with it—
"……"
An electronic device I absolutely should not have seen had tumbled out.
Without a word, I quietly slid it back under the sofa.
I tried to maintain my composure, but my hands wouldn't quite stop trembling.
…Don't tell me this was intentional too.
I genuinely couldn't tell if she'd set this trap on purpose or if she just actually lived like this.
God, I'm tired.
I want to drop everything and sleep.
I couldn't deal with that myself, so the best move was to call her over and let her handle it.
I started toward where Beatrice was—
"…Hey."
…Why hasn't anything changed?
"What?"
"What are you… doing?"
"Cleaning. Can't you tell?"
Beatrice stopped at my call and tilted her head.
Crumbs rained down from the snack bag she was holding.
I stared at that for a moment, and the picture became clear.
Her domestic skills were genuinely catastrophic.
It might just be faster if I did it all myself.
"You've done enough cleaning — go start on dinner. I'll finish up here."
"But I'm the one who lives here—"
"At this rate we'll still be cleaning tomorrow morning. Oh, before that — can you actually cook?"
Judging by how she handled housework, her cooking was probably on the same level.
"Obviously. Winning over a target with culinary skill is part of the toolkit."
"Ah, is that so."
"Stop saying that like you don't believe me?!"
Beatrice huffed and marched off to the kitchen.
With her banished to the kitchen, I threw myself back into cleaning.
It was grueling work, but if not for her, I'd be out on the streets right now trying to figure out how to survive.
The least I could do was this much.
I kept my head down and focused, and before long the end was in sight.
"Done. Come eat, then we can finish the rest."
At the call that dinner was ready, I made my way to the dining table.
I wasn't expecting much.
Probably something half-assembled, barely fit for—
"…You made all this yourself?"
"Obviously. I don't lie."
I sat down and took in the spread laid out before me.
Steaming soup.
Pizza dusted with a generous layer of cheese, and a steak with a beautifully appetizing color.
And a fresh-looking salad on the side.
The only flaw was that it was identical, dish for dish, to the lunch I'd had with Arisu yesterday — but setting that aside, it was genuinely a perfect table.
Beatrice invited me to take the first bite.
"Go on, try it. I guarantee you'll be blown away."
"…After all your effort, you should eat first."
I politely declined.
The odds were low, but something unpleasant could have been slipped in.
"That's harsh. You think I put something in it?"
Beatrice mimed wiping a tear, then took a bite of every dish.
She looked at me with a 'satisfied now?' expression, chewing, and I began to eat.
"Well?"
"Ordinarily good."
"What does that mean? That's so vague."
"Exactly what it sounds like. Ordinarily good."
"How boring."
What was I supposed to do — it was flawlessly, unremarkably good.
I continued eating under her pointed glare.
Midway through the meal, she spoke up.
"Oh, I forgot to mention something."
"Yes?"
"The house rules. I'll go over them now."
House rules from a mafia executive.
I tensed up for no particular reason.
The rules she laid out were as follows.
First: restock the fridge when it runs low.
Second: the last person out makes sure the door is locked.
Third: the cookies in the cupboard are mine — don't touch them.
……
…
Eighth: help with my assignments when needed.
"Why is that last one in there?"
"I looked you up a bit — you've got good grades, target. Consider it rent for letting you stay here."
For all the tension I'd built up, the rules were remarkably ordinary and domestic.
What was I so worried about—
"Oh, and one final rule."
"Yes?"
At that, she fixed me with an expression of uncharacteristic gravity.
And said:
"Never. Never enter my room. Understood?"
"Understood."
"I won't say it twice."
With that firm warning delivered, she returned to her meal.
Whatever was in there must be something.
A flicker of curiosity stirred in me, but I shook it off and ate my salad.
There was a reason she'd said not to. No point inviting trouble.
"Thank you for the meal. I'll handle the dishes."
"I'd appreciate that. Please."
She'd fed me dinner, so washing up was the least I could do.
I gathered the plates and headed to the sink.
And as I turned to look for the sponge, I found it.
Stuffed haphazardly into the kitchen trash bin — meal kit packaging.
Steak, salad, pizza, soup.
A rather familiar lineup.
"…Of course."
"Did you just say something?"
"Not a word."
I knew it.
I let out a long sigh, turned around, and said:
"Oh, I also forgot to mention something."
"Go ahead."
"The toy under the sofa — please put that away yourself."
"Toy…?"
Beatrice blinked, tilting her head.
"You—! You—!"
Then her eyes went wide, trembling, and her entire face flushed red as a beet.
I watched her for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh and went back to the dishes.
Right. This is why you keep track of your belongings.
***
Morning.
I hadn't slept well.
Not because I was sharing a roof with a high school girl — that wasn't it.
It was the concern that she might slip into my room while I was asleep.
Fortunately, nothing of the sort happened, but the exhaustion was unavoidable.
Still, I had to get up.
Being tired was no excuse to skip school.
Speaking of which — wasn't she getting up?
What time did she think it was?
Better to wake her.
I reached for the handle of Beatrice's door.
—Never. Never enter my room. Understood?
Her warning from last night surfaced in my mind, and I stopped.
…Fine, she'll get up on her own.
In good conscience, I called out through the door three times, telling her to wake up.
Right.
I'd done my part.
I washed up in the bathroom, changed clothes, and put together a simple breakfast for two.
Not that breakfast amounted to much — just frozen sandwiches nuked in the microwave.
How was the entire fridge nothing but ready-made food?
I'd have to suggest going grocery shopping later.
—Pitter-patter-patter.
Just then, the sound of something charging toward me from down the hall.
Snowy was still asleep at this hour, so it wasn't her.
"…Why, why didn't you wake me?! Whatever's going on between us, basic decency still applies!"
"You told me not to enter your room. And I called out three times."
"…Ha."
Beatrice buried her face in both hands and exhaled.
Then she shot off to the bathroom at the speed of light, and reappeared just minutes later.
She'd done her makeup in that time.
So this was what a high school girl in her prime could do.
Impressive.
Not that it made a dramatic difference — her base was stunning enough on its own.
"That was fast."
"Slow means dead. Oh — did you warm these up? Thanks."
We each grabbed a sandwich and headed out.
We hadn't exactly agreed to walk together, but somehow we ended up leaving at the same time.
"By the way — are you going to acknowledge me in public?"
"Hm? Why wouldn't I?"
"People might find it strange. Seeing you with someone who looks as rough as me."
"People? I don't have any."
"Sorry?"
"I've never thought of anyone as a friend."
That was a little unexpected.
Someone as striking as Beatrice, with no friends?
"The people I'm usually around… I don't know. Definitely not friends. More like… lackeys? That feels about right."
No — she just had impossibly high standards for friendship.
"So you can talk to me in public, it's fine. I don't care what they think. Actually, I'll be the one to approach you."
"You can't call them that if you want to keep them around."
"Quiet. A target has no business giving me advice."
We walked on, trading words back and forth, when a familiar figure caught my eye.
Arisu.
"Oh, Ryuzaki! Good mor—"
She was smiling brightly as she approached.
Then her expression slowly stiffened, and her gaze locked onto Beatrice.
"……"
"……"
The two girls simply stared at each other in silence.
Then Beatrice curved her lips into a slow smile, and—
—Grab.
Without warning, she pulled my arm into hers.