Morning sunlight filtered in through the curtains, casting a golden glow on Eriri's sleeping face.
The warmth stirred her. Her long lashes fluttered, then slowly lifted to reveal groggy, jade-colored eyes.
She blinked against the light and looked around, disoriented.
And then—
Right next to her—
Was a sleeping boy's face.
Smooth, pale skin. Straight nose. Lightly flushed lips. Brows sharp like a brushstroke.
It was him.
Yukima Azuma.
So close she could feel his breath on her cheek.
Eriri froze.
Her mouth opened slightly in shock, and in her head, a silent shriek—like a startled mole—echoed at full volume.
A blush surged across her face like a sunset sky in fast-forward, flushing from her cheeks to her ears, down her neck, and across her collarbones.
Her eyes trembled violently, her brain failing to process what she was seeing.
Steam practically hissed from her head in classic anime fashion.
It took a while before she could even begin to accept reality.
She was hugging Yukima Azuma. Arms wrapped around his neck. Legs gripping his waist.
She was basically clinging to him like a lonely kitten.
They had… slept together.
Her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario.
Was this a night raid?!
Panicking, she quickly patted herself down.
Everything was still in place. Skirt intact. No signs of tampering.
She exhaled in relief—then immediately felt a weird stab of disappointment.
Her memory kicked in.
She vaguely recalled waking up in the middle of the night… and seeing him.
She'd dreamed of him countless times since their breakup. Most nights, she'd cry into her pillow until sleep finally claimed her.
So last night, when she saw him in that dreamlike haze, she thought—just like always—it was just her mind playing tricks on her.
She pulled him close, held him, savored that familiar warmth.
But unlike the dreams…
This time felt real.
Too real.
…Because it was.
Eriri's eyes widened again.
This wasn't a dream!?
Panic rose again. She had to escape.
Okay—first, get your hand back. Then sneak out of bed. Run.
If anyone asks, just say he was dreaming and clung to her. Yes, perfect. Foolproof!
"Right, this is fine!" she whispered to herself, nodding.
"Fine with what?"
A familiar voice spoke—calm, amused, and far too close.
She slowly turned her head.
Yukima Azuma was awake.
And watching her with an infuriatingly smug smile.
Chaos erupted.
Moments later, Yukima Azuma stood beside the bed, adjusting his sleeves like nothing had happened.
Eriri was bundled under the blanket, face bright red, eyes peeking out like a guilty hamster.
"You… you…"
"Don't try to deny it," Yukima said coolly. "I recorded everything last night."
He hadn't. But the bluff was good enough.
Eriri stiffened instantly.
"You—you what!?"
"Used me like a body pillow. Slept like a baby. I deserve hazard pay."
"I did not! My arm's numb, that's all!"
"Then I'll charge you a massage fee."
"You… you took advantage of me while I was asleep!"
"Oh? So you're going back on your word now?" Yukima smirked. "Fine. I won't gossip. I'll just tell Kasumigaoka-senpai everything."
"D-Don't talk to that black-stockinged pervert! You—you—what do you want from me?!"
"In that case," he said, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket, "sign this."
Eriri squinted at it.
All-Purpose Ticket.
She flipped it over. Fine print on the back read:
This ticket may be used by "Yukima Azuma" on "Eriri." Once used, "Eriri" must fulfill one wish of "Yukima Azuma." Signatures required.
Her eyes shot up.
"You—you're not going to make some lewd demand with this, are you!?"
Yukima said nothing—only raised a brow with a devilish grin.
"That's not something Eriri needs to worry about."
"No—absolutely not—Senpai! Senpai!!"
She leapt forward and clamped a hand over his mouth.
"I'll sign! I'll sign!! Just delete the recording! Forget last night ever happened!!"
She scrawled her name in a hurry and shoved the ticket back into his hand, flashing her trademark fang in a tsundere glare.
Yukima carefully tucked the ticket into his wallet and opened the bedroom door.
Just outside, Kato Megumi had stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, skin fresh, holding a towel.
Yukima blinked.
Maybe he should invest in more guest supplies—extra toothbrushes, towels, slippers.
Speaking of slippers, Eriri had taken a pair of light blue ones. The same shade as her eyes.
"Good morning, Azuma-san."
"Morning, Megumi."
"Morning, pervert. Come here."
Kasumigaoka Utaha's voice drifted from the stairwell.
Kato blinked.
Her eyes seemed to say, "Huh. I wonder what perverted thing Azuma-san did this time?"
Yukima gave a hard shake of his head and moved obediently to where Kasumigaoka was waiting.
She descended the stairs like a queen—wearing no tights, no socks.
Just bare, porcelain legs. Long. Smooth. Perfectly shaped. Toes curled slightly as they touched the cool floor.
She sat on the couch, one leg crossed, and aimed a piercing look at him.
"Well? Speak up, pervert. What did you do last night after stealing my tights?"
"Did you use them? How many times? Or were you planning to wash them and give them back to me, just to get your kicks from seeing me wear them again?"
"Or… did you not wash them? Leave traces behind and wear them yourself, imagining it was me?"
Yukima stood frozen, halfway between panic and admiration.
Kato Megumi calmly stepped back into the hallway, her face expressionless.
Yukima cleared his throat.
"…Define 'use,' exactly?"