On the subway ride home, the train moved swiftly, but by the time he reached the entrance of his apartment, the sky had already turned completely dark. Reaching into his pocket for the keys, he unlocked the door, stepped inside, and shut it behind him.
Walking to his desk, he emptied his pockets, placing everything on the table before casually tossing his coat into the washing machine. Staring at the empty apartment, he made his way to the fridge and pulled out a can of cola.
Although he usually drank black tea, green tea, or occasionally milk, that didn't mean he never drank cola. Since he occasionally had guests over, he kept some stocked.
"Ah—"
He let out a long sigh. The fizzy cola jolted him awake slightly. Setting the can on his desk, he sank onto the floor, gazing at the quiet room, his mind completely blank.
Even though he hadn't done anything strenuous—just sat in a manga café all day—doing nothing for hours on end was, in itself, exhausting. Now that he was home and had a moment to reflect, all he felt was an overwhelming emptiness.
"Mito Yūka, huh?"
Recalling the girl he had met today, he couldn't help but feel that he had acted somewhat pretentious. Deep down, he had his own thoughts, but in the face of that inexplicable kindness, he ultimately did nothing.
"Does this count as… using a woman's money to support another woman?"
With mixed emotions, he sat back down at his desk, pulling out a fresh stack of manuscript paper from the drawer. After a moment of hesitation, he picked up his pen and began to write.
He wasn't exactly a pure-hearted writer, but whenever something stirred him deeply, he couldn't help but pour his emotions into words.
A single chance encounter had etched the name "Mito Yūka" into his mind. He felt both sympathy and pity for her. And it was precisely those emotions that compelled him to write something.
"Still, I should change the name a little—at least the surname, or maybe the given name. And the title… how about The Defiled Angel?"
The outline of the story was already forming in his mind, inspired by Mito Yūka's real-life experiences, with artistic embellishments added. She was the model for his protagonist, but not entirely. Closing his eyes, he let out a long sigh before putting pen to paper.
Meanwhile, in the living room of another apartment, Setsuna watched her mother, Kiyoura Mai, peeling an orange.
"Do you want a piece, Setsuna?"
Mai was initially unbothered by her daughter's gaze, but after a while, she started feeling uncomfortable. She looked up and handed half of the orange to her.
Earlier that afternoon, when she realized Haruto wasn't home and still hadn't returned by evening, Setsuna grew slightly annoyed. Since there was no one else around—the other two girls, Kotonoha and Sekai, had already gone home in the morning—she directed her silent frustration at Mai.
Setsuna took the offered orange without a word, peeling off a segment and popping it into her mouth before shifting her gaze back to her mother.
Mai, already feeling somewhat guilty about her recent conversation with Haruto, avoided looking directly at her daughter. Even though Setsuna hadn't said anything, the weight of her own thoughts made her uneasy. She was afraid Setsuna might suddenly bring up Haruto.
"Did Haruto come home?"
"I don't know. At this hour, he should be back by now, right?"
Without responding, Setsuna stood up from the couch and walked toward the door. She opened it casually and glanced at the apartment across the hallway, where the lights were on.
He was home.
But he hadn't come by to say anything. He hadn't told her he was back. That alone made her feel a small sense of dissatisfaction.
"No matter how close two people are, spending too much time together can become suffocating. Keeping a bit of distance might actually strengthen a relationship," Mai said as she joined her daughter at the door, offering what she had heard from others as advice.
"And that's when other women take advantage of the situation?"
"Haruto … isn't that kind of person, right? You have to learn to trust someone."
Setsuna glanced at her mother, wondering if there was anyone in the world more worthy of trust than the woman who had raised her alone.
But given the current circumstances, even her own mother needed to be treated with some degree of caution.
"I understand."
She answered softly, as if she knew nothing at all. She chose not to confront her mother about her relationship with Haruto. Maybe that would make Mai feel guilty or remorseful, but that wasn't the outcome Setsuna wanted.
All she wished for was to maintain the peace of their current life.
She took one last look at Haruto's apartment before silently retreating back inside, heading toward the bathroom.
Mai, standing at the doorway, watched her daughter leave before turning her gaze once again toward Haruto's apartment.
She was curious about where he had been all day, but only mildly so.
At least for now, for the foreseeable future, she had no plans to approach him again.
Letting out a quiet sigh, she closed the door. While Setsuna took her bath, Mai sat down on the living room couch, absentmindedly watching a television program.
_ _ _ _
By the time Haruto put down his pen, he checked the clock and realized it was already 10 PM.
His stomach felt uncomfortably empty. Setting aside his unfinished manuscript, he went to the fridge and pulled out some udon noodles, cooking them quickly.
After eating just enough to feel satisfied, he returned to his desk, looking over what he had written. So far, he had only managed to complete the opening scene. The entire story, set in a school environment, was already fully formed in his mind, but it was too late at night to continue writing.
He still had school tomorrow. No matter how eager he was to keep going, he had to consider the reality that he needed to wake up early.
"I'll continue tomorrow."
Organizing his manuscript, he placed it back into the drawer—but this time, one level lower—before heading to the bathroom.
After a solid seven hours of sleep, Haruto woke up in the morning feeling reasonably refreshed.
Dressed in his school uniform, he grabbed his school bag, prepared a simple breakfast, and tidied up his apartment before heading out.
He didn't see Sekai outside, meaning he had woken up earlier than usual.
His mind was too preoccupied with how to continue writing. The urge to sit at his desk and continue the story had made him wake up earlier than normal.
But after glancing at the clock and realizing he wouldn't have much time left even if he stayed, he gave up the idea of writing in the morning, instead focusing on getting ready for school.
'I should introduce a boyfriend for her soon… it's about time. But what should his name be?'
He pondered whether he should just use his own name.
But that felt a little too… no. Even he thought that would be too shameless. If the book ever got published and people found out his real name, he'd be bombarded with questions about whether the story was autobiographical.
"Forget it. I'll just pick a more distant name. Maybe a similar-sounding one?"
Lost in thought, Haruto walked all the way to school, only snapping back to reality when he spotted a girl waiting at the school gate, sneaking glances in his direction.
"Good morning, Miyamizu-kun."
"Good morning, Yoshida-san. You changed your hairstyle?"
"Uh… y-yeah! I wanted to try something new…"
Hearing that he had noticed, Yoshida Saki's face lit up with delight. She pursed her lips and nodded happily, explaining that she wanted to make a change.
"A change, huh?"
"Do… do you not like it, Miyamizu-kun?"
"It's not that. I can see that just a small change makes you stand out a lot more. You'll probably be really popular."
"Popular… me?"
Yoshida Saki was a little surprised. It was the first time someone had ever said that to her.
"Well, I have other things to do, so I'll head back to class now."
"Uh… okay."
Watching Haruto turn and walk away, Yoshida Saki hesitated, her expression unsure. Even though he had acknowledged her, she could tell that his attention hadn't really been on her. In fact, he seemed even less interested than before.
She had borrowed one of her mom's fashion magazines, carefully applied a touch of makeup, but in the end… it didn't seem to have made any difference.
'Forget it… I'll just go back to how I was before.'
With a hint of disappointment on her face, Yoshida Saki slowly made her way to her shoe locker, changed into her indoor shoes, and walked toward her classroom.
"Where were you this weekend?"
Not long after sitting in the classroom, Haruto propped his chin on his hand, gazing absentmindedly out the window at the deep blue sky. He was lost in thought, contemplating the next development of his story—what kind of ending the heroine should ultimately face—when a sharp, accusatory voice rang in his ear.
Turning back, he saw Eriri standing beside his desk, looking thoroughly displeased.
His train of thought derailed, Haruto sighed as he glanced at Eriri, as well as the other students whose gazes had shifted toward them.
"I went out for a walk. Why? Did you come looking for me?"
"I waited for you for half an hour, and you were nowhere to be found. What do you think?"
"That's unfortunate. I left in the morning and didn't get back until night."
"Tch."
Clicking her tongue in annoyance, Eriri seemed slightly appeased after hearing his answer. Noticing the curious eyes of their classmates, she took a deep breath to calm herself. Though still sulking, she threw him one last glare before flipping her twin ponytails and stomping back to her seat.
Haruto, on the other hand, watched her retreating figure, wondering what exactly she had wanted from him the day before. But after a brief moment, he turned back toward the window, letting his mind wander again.
At lunchtime, after finishing a simple meal, Haruto made his way to the school library.
He wanted to see if there was anything interesting to read—something to pass the time and, hopefully, spark some inspiration.
The library was nearly empty, save for a lone girl with long, straight black hair, her head resting on the table in sleep. A white headband adorned her head. Seeing that she was asleep, Haruto instinctively quieted his footsteps.
As he lowered his gaze, his eyes were immediately drawn to something beneath the desk—a pair of slender, well-proportioned legs wrapped in sheer black stockings, the fabric hugging her skin yet allowing a faint glimpse of its smoothness underneath.
He stared for a moment, feeling a vague sense of familiarity.
Lifting his gaze slightly, his eyes landed on the white headband again. A name surfaced in his mind, and his expression grew somewhat complex. He hadn't expected to run into her here.
Kasumigaoka Utaha.
A prodigy at school—at least academically, where she consistently maintained top scores. But more than that, she was a bestselling female author.
In a way, she and Haruto were peers. However, since they wrote in different genres, their paths had never really crossed. They were simply aware of each other's existence.
His gaze drifted downward once more, lingering briefly on her legs before he finally looked away. Quietly, he turned toward the bookshelves. A beautiful girl was nice and all, but right now, what he really wanted to find was fries—no, wait, books.
Ignoring the mystery of why she was napping in the library instead of the infirmary, Haruto focused on the rows of books before him. He occasionally pulled one out to skim through, but so far, nothing had caught his eye—nothing that truly sparked his imagination.