The humid Tokyo air clung to Ren Kurosawa's skin like a second shadow. He adjusted the strap of his messenger bag, his eyes fixed on the cracked screen of his phone as he navigated the winding paths of West Tokyo's Kichijoji district.
Komorebi University – Premium Dormitory Block A. Room 404.
"Finally," Ren muttered, his voice raspy from a lack of use.
He wasn't here for the typical college experience. He didn't want the drinking parties, the noisy clubs, or the forced socialization of the freshman mixers. He was a creature of the dark—a genius coder who thrived in the silence of 3:00 AM. That was why he'd poured every yen of his scholarship into a premium single-occupancy room. No roommates. No distractions. No people.
The hallway was carpeted and quiet, smelling faintly of lemon wax. He reached Room 404 and swiped his keycard.
Beep. Click.
The door swung open. Ren didn't even look up as he kicked the door shut behind him. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun. He dropped his bag on the floor and immediately began peeling off his sweat-soaked hoodie.
"Home sweet home," he exhaled, tossing the hoodie onto a chair.
He started toward the desk to set up his dual-monitor rig, but he froze. Something was wrong.
The air didn't smell like a vacant room. It smelled like... expensive vanilla and high-end shampoo. On the desk, where his mechanical keyboard should have been, sat a stack of graded essays and a pair of delicate, designer reading glasses. On the floor, a pair of black high heels lay discarded next to a very lacy, very pink silk camisole.
Ren's heart skipped a beat. A cold sweat that had nothing to do with the summer heat broke out on his neck.
Did I walk into the wrong wing? No, the keycard worked...
The sound of rushing water suddenly cut off. A door to the left—the small ensuite bathroom—creaked open.
Ren turned, his breath hitching in his throat.
A cloud of fragrant steam rolled out first, followed by a woman. She was mid-step, vigorously rubbing a towel through her long, damp raven hair. She wasn't wearing a bathrobe. She was wrapped in a single white towel that was tucked precariously above her chest, leaving her pale shoulders and long, shapely legs bare to the cool air of the room.
The towel moved as she rubbed her hair, slipping just a fraction of a millimeter.
"The water pressure in this building is surprisingly good for a dorm," she murmured to herself, her voice melodic and mature.
Ren stood paralyzed. He was shirtless, his pale, lean frame and sharp collarbones exposed, holding his breath as if that would somehow make him invisible.
The woman finally dropped the towel from her head, her wet hair falling over her shoulders like dark silk. She looked up, and her violet eyes locked directly onto Ren's.
The silence in Room 404 became deafening.
Ren recognized her instantly. She wasn't a student. She was Shizuka Ichinose, the rising star of the Sociology department and the woman every male student on campus had a secret crush on. She was known for being "The Ice Queen"—polished, untouchable, and terrifyingly brilliant.
Right now, the Ice Queen was staring at him with wide, trembling eyes, her face turning a shade of crimson that rivaled a Tokyo sunset.
"You..." she choked out, her hand flying to the knot of her towel to keep it from falling. "Kurosawa-kun? From my 9:00 AM seminar?"
Ren swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Professor... I think there's a 404 error with our housing assignment."
Shizuka didn't scream. Instead, she tripped over her own discarded high heels, stumbling forward. Ren instinctively lunged to catch her, his hands landing firmly on her bare, damp waist.
The contact felt like an electric shock through his fingertips.
They stood there for a heartbeat—the introverted coder and the untouchable professor—locked in a half-naked embrace in the middle of a room that was only supposed to have one bed.
"Get... out..." she whispered, though her fingers clutched his bare arms as if she were about to faint.
"I can't," Ren replied, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes caught the "Assigned" sticker on the door. "According to the system... this is my room, too."