"So, what is your decision, Utaha-senpai? Will you join us?"
Hozuki Nozomi's gaze was earnest, tinged with a hopeful light as he awaited her answer. Kasumigaoka Utaha, her face still warmed by the afterglow of their shared moments, wore an expression of deep contemplation. However, her peripheral vision remained acutely aware of the placement of his hand. This truly incorrigible boy—his fingers were still resting casually, possessively, on the curve of her black-stockinged leg. It seemed he held a particular fascination for these long limbs of hers, a source of quiet pride she had always nurtured.
He really does seem to adore them, she thought, a shy warmth blooming in her chest. Outwardly, she tilted her chin, affecting an air of haughty deliberation. "Hmm… I might consider it. If you beg me properly, that is."
"Utaha-senpai, I implore you," Hozuki Nozomi responded without a moment's hesitation, his voice dripping with dramatic sincerity. "Please grace our Meow Star Company with your brilliant presence!"
A single sentence, a little performative pleading, in exchange for securing Kasumigaoka Utaha's membership and ensuring their frequent future meetings? It was an exchange with absolutely zero downside from his perspective.
"Hmph. No sincerity at all," she sniffed, swatting his wandering hand away from her leg as she stood up, putting a small, deliberate distance between them.
Hozuki Nozomi offered a helpless shrug, a smile playing on his lips. "Then, what would constitute 'sincere' in Utaha-senpai's esteemed opinion?"
Kasumigaoka Utaha turned to face him fully, a bold, challenging glint in her eyes. She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a low, provocative murmur. "Take me to a hotel. And don't go home tonight. If you can do that… then I'll agree."
Hozuki Nozomi blinked, his brain processing the statement for a full second. Is she serious?
…
A short while later, Hozuki Nozomi found himself sitting on the edge of a perfectly made hotel bed, a sense of surreal bewilderment clouding his thoughts. The soft hiss of the shower running in the ensuite bathroom was a stark, auditory confirmation of their location.
So… we actually came to a hotel.
The development was undeniably, recklessly fast. A part of him marveled at the sheer audacity of it. He didn't for a second believe his charm was so omnipotent as to make a woman of Kasumigaoka Utaha's caliber—beautiful, sharp-witted, and famously discerning—fall into such a precipitous infatuation. This wasn't love at first sight; it was a deliberate, high-stakes plunge.
What is she truly thinking? What game is Kasumi Utako playing now?
…
Meanwhile, submerged in the warmth of the bathtub, Kasumigaoka Utaha was grappling with her own wave of disbelief. Her long, dark hair was coiled in a loose, damp bun atop her head, exposing the elegant, slender line of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed a deep pink—whether from the steamy heat of the water or the simmering embarrassment of her own impulsiveness, she couldn't be sure.
We actually came to a hotel. Did things move too quickly?
A flicker of regret danced at the edges of her consciousness. Her initial comment had been intended as pure provocation, a teasing test of his boundaries. But the words, once spoken, took on a life of their own. And he—that decisive, infuriating boy—had simply taken her hand and led her here, calling her bluff with unnerving calm.
The memory of the receptionist's politely veiled, knowing look made her want to sink deeper into the bubbles. I'm not like this, she protested silently. I'm not the type to… to offer myself on the very first date!
A tumult of emotions churned within her. Seeking an outlet, or perhaps a specific brand of chaotic validation, she reached for her phone. First, she sent the incriminating kiss photo she'd taken earlier. Then, with a determined press, she placed a call.
The line connected almost instantly, followed by a sputtering, frantic voice.
"Ka-Ka-Ka-Kasumigaoka Utaha! Have you completely lost your mind?!"
On the other end, Eriri Spencer Sawamura was in a state of high drama. She had been lounging on her bed, sketchbook in hand, brainstorming doujinshi plotlines when the notification arrived. The image that loaded sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated shock through her system.
Hozuki Nozomi! That absolute scoundrel! And he's… he's kissing Kasumigaoka Utaha?!
Hearing the familiar, explosive reaction, a slow, satisfied smile spread across Utaha's lips. She adopted a tone of feigned innocence. "Sawamura-san, my, what has you in such a state?"
"What do you mean, 'what'?!" Eriri's voice screeched through the speaker. "It's your scandalous behavior that's the problem! Kasumigaoka Utaha, what in the world are you doing? Hozuki Nozomi has a girlfriend! Are you aiming to become a homewrecker?"
"If the 'home' in question involves you," Utaha replied smoothly, "then I suppose the role doesn't sound so terrible."
"Wha—? What kind of nonsense are you spouting now? You've definitely lost it!" Eriri fired back, her voice rising another octave. "Didn't I warn you he's bad news? Last time he pushed me down and threatened me with that… that terrifying thing! And you still throw yourself at him? Is there a screw loose in that brilliant head of yours?"
A petulant pout formed on Kasumigaoka Utaha's face. "Must you be so unpleasant? I told you I was considering dating him for research. Or… could it be that just because he 'pushed you down,' you've decided no other woman can approach him? You want to keep him chasing after only you?"
"I would never think such a thing! Kasumigaoka Utaha, you're an idiot! I could never like that rotten guy!"
Utaha's smile widened, her voice taking on a sugary, taunting quality. "If you don't like him, then you should simply offer us your blessings. And don't worry, I have no intention of destroying his relationship with Misaki-san. Think of this as… immersive field research for my next novel, alright?"
Eriri Spencer Sawamura felt a profound sense of exhaustion, the kind only Utaha could induce. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as they focused on her phone screen. "Kasumigaoka Utaha… where exactly are you right now?"
"Angel's Heartbeat Hotel, Room 502," Utaha announced breezily. "I'm in the bath, as it happens." She paused for maximum effect, then added the final, provocative touch, her voice a playful whisper. "Hozuki Nozomi is waiting for me just outside. I'm about to take my first step onto the 'adult's ladder.' Now, now, don't be too envious, okay?"
"Envious? As if! You… you shameless woman!"
The line went dead with a sharp click. In her room, Eriri Spencer Sawamura launched herself off the bed, a storm of inexplicable agitation. She threw on a hoodie, shoved a baseball cap low over her twintails, and jammed a pair of oversized sunglasses onto her face. Within minutes, she was hailing a taxi, barking the hotel's address at the driver.
This absolutely isn't because I like Hozuki Nozomi or because I'm jealous! she vehemently assured herself, her heart pounding against her ribs. It's to stop that black-stockinged seductress from ruining his relationship with Misaki-senpai! That's all! Even in her fury, she had to grudgingly admit that Kasumigaoka Utaha's beauty was a weapon few could resist.
…
Back in the hotel room, Hozuki Nozomi—blessed with keen hearing—had caught the gist of the entire, dramatic phone conversation. A frown of contemplation creased his brow.
Why deliberately provoke Eriri and lure her here? What's Utaha-senpai's endgame?
Was this another layer of her 'research'? A desire to witness, or even instigate, a real-life love triangle for creative fodder? He let out a soft sigh, the pieces clicking into place. This explained her audacious hotel suggestion. Kasumigaoka Utaha was many things, but recklessly impulsive with her own virtue wasn't one of them. This had the distinct feel of a staged scene.
As he was turning the puzzle over in his mind, the bathroom door swung open.
Steam billowed out first, followed by Kasumigaoka Utaha herself. She was wrapped in a fluffy white bath towel, her damp hair still piled high, revealing the graceful column of her neck and the enticing slope of her bare shoulders. The towel did a commendable, yet thrillingly insufficient, job of containing her alluring figure. A faint, clean scent of hotel soap and her own distinctive fragrance drifted into the room.
Hozuki Nozomi's throat went dry. He swallowed, a wave of self-awareness crashing over him. I really am becoming more of a scoundrel by the minute. Here he was, in a hotel room, having effectively run away from home for the night with a senior he'd just officially met today. Mahiru and Sayu would be worried. Yukinoshita would likely freeze him with a single disappointed glance.
That thought alone was enough to douse any rising flames. Tonight was not the night for Utaha-senpai to ascend any metaphorical ladders. If he pushed forward now, she would undoubtedly pull back, and the delicate trust between them would fracture. There would be other, better opportunities—times without orchestrated audiences and ulterior motives. Patience was the wiser course.
"What are you standing there for?" Kasumigaoka Utaha's voice broke his reverge, a nervous tremor underlying its forced casualness. She settled onto a small stool by the dresser, presenting him with the breathtaking view of her back—damp tendrils of hair clinging to her skin, the towel's edge resting precariously. "Come help me dry my hair. It's a boyfriend's duty, you know."
Hozuki Nozomi's lips curved into a gentle, understanding smile. He picked up the hairdryer from the vanity, walked over, and stood behind her. Switching it to a warm, low setting, he began to carefully card his fingers through her dark locks, the roar of the dryer filling the comfortable silence.
…
Down the hall, a figure swaddled in a hoodie, cap, and sunglasses—a master of conspicuous concealment—skidded to a halt outside Room 502. Eriri Spencer Sawamura's hand was raised to knock when she realized the door was slightly ajar. And from within, she heard… sounds.
A male voice, laced with concern: "Utaha-senpai, are you alright?"
A feminine, breathy sigh: "Mmm~… A little lighter… Ah."
The male voice again, soothing: "Here?"
Another sigh, more pronounced: "Yes, just like that… Mm, be gentle…"
Eriri's jaw went slack. Her mind, a repository of countless illustrated R-rated scenarios, immediately supplied a vivid, full-color narrative. A strangled noise escaped her throat. Fueled by a potent cocktail of outrage, secondhand embarrassment, and something she refused to name, she shoved the door open, squeezed her eyes shut, and yelled at the top of her lungs:
"SHAMELESS! WHAT KIND OF PERVERTED THINGS ARE YOU TWO DOING IN HERE?!"
Hozuki Nozomi, holding a cotton swab in one hand, looked up from his task, an expression of profound bemusement on his face. If you thought it was something perverted, why did you charge in to look?
After her explosive entrance, Eriri Spencer Sawamura, her face scarlet beneath her disguise, finally dared to crack open her eyes.
The scene that greeted her was not the one her imagination had so vividly conjured.
Kasumigaoka Utaha was lying comfortably with her head in Hozuki Nozomi's lap, a look of serene contentment on her face. Hozuki Nozomi was not engaged in any salacious activity, but was instead meticulously, gently, cleaning her ear with a cotton swab.
Eriri Spencer Sawamura stood frozen in the doorway, utterly and completely dumbfounded.