After sitting for a little under ten minutes, Haizaki saw that Utaha's mental state had improved quite a bit and prepared to leave.
"Remember to take the anti-inflammatory medicine later, and get a good rest tonight…"
Before leaving, Haizaki reminded her with some concern.
"Wait…"
Realizing that Haizaki was about to leave, Utaha could no longer suppress what she was thinking.
If she didn't say it now, there might never be a better chance again.
But when the words reached her lips, she changed what she was going to say.
"I've slept all day, and now I can't really fall asleep. I want to write my novel. Can you help me bring my laptop and the bed desk over?"
Haizaki thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement.
After setting up the bed desk, Haizaki placed the laptop on it.
With a full battery, the laptop could last at least two hours, so there was no need to connect it to an external power source.
"One hour. After one hour, you need to rest. Typing in bed is bad for your neck and lower back."
"Thank you. My shoulders feel a bit sore right now—probably because I slept too much."
"Then… maybe don't write today."
Utaha's face drooped slightly. She felt exhausted by how Haizaki couldn't understand what she was hinting at.
Did Haizaki really not understand, or was he deliberately pretending not to?
"I can't not write. I have to be responsible to my readers."
Your readers seem to be down to just me now.
Thinking of this, Haizaki felt somewhat stifled. The time and effort Utaha poured into her work were, in a sense, wasted.
In the end, her works would disappear along with her lost memories.
Haizaki occasionally wanted to tell her that there was no need to focus so obsessively on writing, but what right did he have to interfere with her passion?
This was one of the few ways she had to relieve stress.
"Even if you have to be responsible, it should be based on your own health. I don't think readers want their author to be covered in occupational illnesses and die from overwork."
"Is that really what you think?"
"Yes. That's exactly what I think."
"Then… fine."
What was 'fine' about that?
Haizaki was confused. He felt like he had fallen into one of Utaha's traps.
"Give me a massage, Yusuke-kun…"
Utaha moved her shoulders slightly, and her joints made cracking sounds.
She looked at Haizaki with full anticipation, waiting for his answer.
"When I give massages, even I get scared."
"Oh? You mean you'll touch things randomly? Like here, for example?"
Utaha deliberately drew out her words, a faint smile on her face as she shamelessly pointed to the area over her left chest.
"Just now… how did it feel?"
"I don't quite understand what you're trying to say."
Haizaki felt awkward. Could he really answer something like that directly? He felt that Utaha's aggressiveness had intensified.
"Just now—what did it feel like? Answer honestly. I won't hold you accountable…"
"Big, soft, and very elastic."
"Hehe…"
She laughed in a rather strange way.
"I was just truthfully describing my real feelings. I have absolutely no improper thoughts toward Miss Kasumigaoka Utaha."
"All men say that. And you— even if I gave you the courage, you still wouldn't dare do anything to me."
That's right. If Haizaki had the guts, how could he still not have made a move by now?
More than four months of living together—any man would have thoughts by now, right?
That was why she found it so difficult. Facing a man who subtly gave off a rejecting attitude, what could she do to make Haizaki confess sincerely?
This battle seemed lost from the very beginning.
So she could only choose another approach.
Utaha stared at Haizaki, her mind racing as she thought about how to break through his psychological defenses.
Haizaki, on the other hand, didn't respond. Thinking of something, he spoke up.
He still had something he needed to say to her.
"Do you want some more chicken soup? There's still some downstairs…"
"No, that's enough."
"There's something I have to tell you. The chicken you drank the soup from wasn't frozen chicken."
Utaha, who had just been savoring the taste at the mention of chicken soup, suddenly realized something. Her expression changed, disbelief showing in her eyes.
"You mean… those chickens?"
"Yes, that one—"
"Didn't we agree we would discuss it first?!"
Those were animals she had raised for over four months. To her, they were closer to pets she had grown attached to.
But now…
Utaha felt uncomfortable.
"Yes, but its death—"
The deed was already done. Utaha wouldn't say anything more. Or perhaps, compared to the fact that Haizaki had killed a chicken, what hurt her more was Haizaki breaking his word—and his explanation now.
"I know you did it for my sake, but compared to chicken soup, you clearly know… what I really want…"
The meaning flashing in her wine-red eyes made Haizaki unable to meet her gaze.
What he feared most had still happened.
People… were indeed afraid of loneliness.
Especially in a world as desolate as this post-apocalyptic one.
"You say this is your dream, and you're afraid that once you wake up, everything will disappear. Then why is it me who appears in your dream, and not the two girls you have a crush on?"
"Shouldn't everyone's dream contain what they desire most deep down? Wouldn't it make more sense for them to appear in your dream, if this really were 'your dream'?"
"Why me? Before we met, we didn't know each other at all. How could you dream of a stranger? A stranger you'd never even met."
The barrage of questions left Haizaki speechless.
Even he hadn't expected Utaha to use the irrationality of the dream itself as a counterattack.
"I just…"
He couldn't very well say that he knew her—from a previous life.
"You wanted to talk properly with me yesterday. I agreed. So now—right here—we'll talk properly."
If she didn't ask, he wouldn't say.
This time, Utaha was all in.
"I… can't…" Haizaki ultimately changed his phrasing. When it came to matters of emotion, it was more appropriate to explain things from his own standpoint.
"For certain reasons, I can't form relationships with girls that go beyond friendship."
"Can't you explain the specific reasons?"
"Yes. I can't explain them."
Haizaki nodded.
Before graduating from Sōbu High in his previous life, he had handled his personal relationships carefully while focusing on getting into the University of Tokyo.
But after the apocalyptic disaster broke out, a year of drastic environmental changes had caused him—whether actively or passively—to have deeper interactions with them.
"Do you think I can accept that?"
"Whether you can accept it or not, that's the reality."
"Do you think I'm annoying?"
Yes. Haizaki had repeatedly rejected her, or at least hinted at rejection, yet she shamelessly kept approaching him. If that wasn't annoying, what was?
"No, I don't."
In truth, there was a bit of it. But Haizaki knew he had to restrain himself and remain rational, treating the girl properly.
Still, Utaha's question made his heart tighten.
He was afraid that she might decide to leave this place and live on her own.
If that happened, what would he choose?
Acceptance, or persuasion?
At this point, Haizaki felt that the "Solitary Apocalypse," the first apocalyptic world arranged by the system, was testing his interpersonal skills and mental resilience far more than the external apocalyptic environment.
If it were someone else, perhaps things would be easy.
Do whatever you wanted, act without restraint, indulge freely, follow no principles—possess so-called true freedom.
But he couldn't do that. He still had to adhere to his own principles and bottom line.
Even if it meant being constrained at every turn, even if it meant creating unnecessary trouble for himself, he would persist.
Without safeguarding one's original intentions, how could human salvation or the continuation of civilization ever be achieved?
What makes a human a human—one's conscience and principles—are equally important proofs.
…