Watching Rita's movements and the way they made certain parts jiggle, Hayashi Maki's eyes couldn't help but follow. He blurted a complaint:
"So Mashiro's habit of coming out of the bath stark naked—was that your 'education,' too? Rita-san, could you maybe show a little caution? There's a dangerous man standing right in front of you!"
"And didn't you bring a suitcase? You didn't bring any clothes?"
Rita's lips curved.
"I really didn't. I came planning to take Mashiro straight back, but she refused. The suitcase is empty—flying is tiring enough, dragging an empty suitcase would just make it worse."
"Mm, this will do—the looser dress shirt is just right for my figure."
Without missing a beat, she slipped into his white shirt, covering that flawless, ivory body. Even though his shirt was oversized, on her it still looked temptingly snug—soft curves, a bewitching line that made Hayashi Maki's throat go dry.
"So… an empty suitcase for what? Going full 'foreign slasher flick' and stuffing a body in there after a kill?"
Rita shot him a sultry look. "Then guess—who do you think I most want to kill?" As she spoke, she leaned in and tapped his chest with a finger, half her weight pressing on him, her perfume wrapping around him like a golden-haired fairy out of a storybook.
Hayashi Maki drew a slow breath and set his hands on her shoulders.
"Behave. Don't try to tempt me, Rita-san. There's a spare room on the third floor—please… hey! You're just going to hog my bed? And what about panties?"
"Told you, I didn't bring any!"
"This pair is for you. Put them on before you sleep."
Speechless, Hayashi Maki fished a pair from under the bed and tossed them to her.
"Eh? You hide panties under your bed?"
Rita stared like he was a pervert.
"Spare me. I wouldn't hand those to just anyone—they're an angel's relic, blessed with holy light."
Yes—exactly the pair Gabriel had teleported to school via "divine footwork." Rita didn't buy the angel bit. But she was exhausted; with a yawn she said nothing more, burrowed under the covers, and quickly fell asleep.
Seeing how completely off-guard she was, Hayashi Maki didn't hesitate. He pulled her close as a human body pillow and shut his eyes too. Only a fool leaves a free advantage on the table—and she'd hijacked his bed. He couldn't very well slink off himself. So: sleep.
Around midnight, Rita felt warm and cracked an eye open. In the moonlight, Hayashi Maki's face seemed to glow—more handsome than ever, almost heart-stealing. Her cheeks flushed; she had no intention of leaving his arms.
Bold man, she thought. Wasn't he afraid Mashiro would get the wrong idea? And he was cohabiting with Miss Mahiru… together with Mashiro? Her thoughts tangled. Weariness rolled back in; she rubbed her cheek against the warm chest and drifted off again.
…
Morning.
Hayashi Maki felt a tickle on his cheek. He opened his eyes to find Rita's hair strewn across his face—and his skin feeling like someone had applied cleanser. His brow twitched; he slid an arm around her waist, lifted her aside, and pinched the cheek of the "sleeping" blonde.
"Wake up, Rita-san—it's morning."
"Mm… morning won't be coming anymore," she mumbled, still pretending to sleep—then flopped right back onto him.
Hayashi Maki bristled.
"Woman, you're playing with fire. I held back because you'd just flown all day. But climbing into my arms first thing? You're begging for a lesson."
He dipped and pressed his mouth to hers. Rita froze. Her first kiss—gone? Play with fire, get burned. Yet whatever thought flashed through her mind made her return the kiss warmly. Hayashi Maki was surprised. Still—if she was offering, he wasn't refusing.
After a while they parted. Hayashi Maki, breathing a touch hard himself, wiped her lips with his thumb.
"Was that necessary? All bluster and no skill."
For a "beginner," she'd feigned expertise and nearly run out of breath. Rita's face reddened, but she smiled.
"So… does that mean I can stay here from now on?"
He sighed.
"I already set up a room for you on the third floor. Stay as long as you like—Mahiru and I welcome you, and Mashiro's thrilled. She told me you were coming and even ate an extra bowl of rice last night."
"Rita-san, if you insist on handing me benefits, I'm not going to say no," he added with a grin.
Her smile faltered. She looked at him, face stiff—feeling she'd overplayed it. Not only had he hugged and kissed her, she'd lost her first kiss. Her expression froze, then she rallied with another smile.
"Then I'll be living here—on the same floor as Mashiro, until she agrees to go back to the UK with me. You don't understand, Hayashi Maki—the miracles at her fingertips are beyond imagining. She shouldn't waste her gifts by becoming a mangaka."
Her tone was serious, sincere. If Hayashi Maki truly liked Mashiro, he should want her to keep at her art—not abandon her greatest talent for the sake of making manga.
Hayashi Maki shook his head.
"No, I do understand. I've seen Mashiro's paintings—her past paintings too."
"Then why support her being a mangaka?"
Cheeks puffed, she stared, baffled. "Isn't that selfish? Keeping a girl like Mashiro tied to your side might feed your ego—but it ruins her life!"
He smiled slightly.
"You're right—I am selfish, and very possessive. But there's one thing I do better than you: I'll support Mashiro's dream. Drawing manga makes her happy; debuting fills her with anticipation. I want to keep that Mashiro—not the girl who only paints and knows nothing of anything else."
"But… her talent…"
"Does talent have to be used? Must she do what she doesn't love? Do you want to stay forever with a Mashiro who knows nothing?"
"I…" Rita dropped her gaze, biting her lip, at a loss for words. It was true: being by a genius like Mashiro carried pressure—especially for someone who loved drawing herself, only to be crushed by Mashiro's brilliance and toss away her pen.
It was a pain not easily named. She envied and admired Mashiro—and wished the genius would fall, even as she wanted her to keep creating miracles. That's why she'd come—to take Mashiro back. Humans are contradictory like that.
"So please—stop wearing that fake generous smile for me. It's beautiful, but it's not real. No one here is going to hurt you. Just be yourself—and talk to Mashiro honestly. Aren't you her best friend? Whatever the hurdle, the two of you can face it together."
"Shut up!" Rita snapped, mask cracking.
"What do you know? This is the first time we've met—how can you look at me like you see straight through me? And if you knew I was pretending, why did you kiss me?"
Looking at the angry girl fisting his shirt, Hayashi Maki smoothed her hair.
"I'm just a man who likes beautiful girls—and I'm also Mashiro's and Mahiru's fiancé."
With that, he pinched her cheek lightly and strode for the door.
"Wash up—breakfast's ready."
"…"
Watching his back, Rita couldn't help pouting. "Honestly…"
Knocking her mask off and then acting like nothing happened—what a hateful man.