The chickens were far too intelligent.
After observing Haizaki's search patterns, the flock decisively changed their strategy.
As a result, every three days, Haizaki would obtain exactly one egg.
At first, Haizaki didn't notice anything unusual about this pattern. It wasn't until the day came for routine cleaning of the chicken coop that he realized they truly possessed considerable intelligence.
One egg every three days was clearly the flock offering tribute to put his mind at ease.
All the extra eggs were being hidden by them.
No wonder the chickens reacted so strongly when he started cleaning—struggling, squawking, and trying to drive him away.
That day was his biggest harvest of eggs. Under the struggling and despairing gazes of several chickens, he unceremoniously took five eggs and left two behind, considering it a reward for their steady egg production.
Who knew what these high-IQ chickens might do in desperation?
At the very least, the chickens needed a bit of hope.
Today, Haizaki collected two chicken eggs, one duck egg, and two goose eggs.
Under the reluctant and resentful stares of all the poultry, Haizaki took the eggs and closed the door.
In an instant, cries erupted from inside, accompanied from time to time by the sound of flapping wings.
Clearly, they did not welcome Haizaki's visit at all.
But powerless to resist, they could only silently accept this reality.
After leaving, Haizaki checked the other rooms of Villa No. 4.
All doors and windows were intact.
Next came another important matter.
…
Six hours later, brushing the snow off his clothes, Haizaki finally returned to Villa No. 5.
The villa was quiet.
Utaha was probably in her room writing.
Thinking this, Haizaki headed toward his own room. It wasn't dinner time yet, so he could rest a bit—read, play some games, and relax appropriately.
There were still over two months before the end of the Solitary Apocalypse.
…
Second-floor master bedroom.
Utaha was wearing headphones, her eyes fixed on the laptop screen, her right hand clicking the mouse.
With each click, photos flashed across the screen one by one.
"Not bad…"
"This one works…"
"So he can make this kind of expression too…"
…
These were photos of him and her over nearly ten months.
Quite a few were taken with a professional DSLR, but even more were casual snapshots taken with a phone.
At this moment, Utaha was browsing through the photos they had taken in the past, a smile on her face, memories filling her heart.
Especially after seeing one particular photo, she could no longer bring herself to click the mouse.
Against a backdrop of blue sky and sandy beach, Haizaki, dressed in a white shirt, lay on a chair, sleeping quietly. Completely asleep, he had shed all his usual defenses.
There was no trace of his everyday calm, distant demeanor.
The mature air around him had faded, revealing the youthfulness befitting a seventeen-year-old boy.
At this moment, he looked just like the boy next door, far more approachable.
"So you have this side too."
The lingering youth on his face made Utaha realize that Haizaki was, after all, only seventeen.
Compared to Haizaki a year ago, the current him—hardened by long training and experience—was filled with masculine vigor. His upright posture and broad shoulders conveyed a strong sense of security.
That hint of youthfulness had all but vanished.
This must be the growth of a man who had weathered storms.
"Save it…"
After looking carefully, she immediately copied the photo into another folder specifically used for storing high-quality images.
The drastic changes in the world had made her cherish her memories with Haizaki even more.
Ten years later, twenty years later, these photos would help her recall those moments and the fluttering emotions she felt back then.
Besides that, she was still recording their daily life in written form.
Immersed in memories, Utaha continued admiring the photos.
At this moment, her breathing was slightly quickened, her face faintly flushed. Some of the photos were simply too heart-stirring.
She wanted to claim them forever.
…
Knock, knock…
There was a knock at the door.
But wearing headphones and focused on the photos, the girl didn't hear it at all.
After knocking three times without a response, Haizaki chose to open the door.
According to their latest agreement, between 8 a.m. and 9 p.m., if he knocked three times without receiving a response, he could open the door to check whether Utaha was in the room.
She was probably sleeping. In the past, failing to respond usually meant the girl was asleep.
But this time, Haizaki was clearly mistaken. When he opened the door, he saw the girl's side profile, focused on her computer.
For some reason, this made Haizaki feel relieved—even he didn't know why.
"Utaha, it's time to go downstairs."
Haizaki walked over and naturally reached out to pat the girl on the shoulder.
"Dinner is ready."
"Ah—clang!"
A sharp scream rang out, accompanied by the creaking sound of the chair as the girl jumped in fright.
If Haizaki hadn't reacted quickly and steadied her, Utaha would definitely have fallen to the ground.
"You… could you at least say something when you come in, Haizaki-kun!"
Utaha's heart was pounding as she turned to look at Haizaki, who had suddenly appeared behind her.
She really had been scared.
"I knocked. I even called out to you before coming in."
That was the truth.
"Alright."
Having recovered from the fright, Utaha also knew Haizaki wasn't the kind of person who would deliberately enter her room to scare her.
"I didn't hear it this time. Please speak louder next time…"
"Mm, that's my fault…"
After offering a brief apology, Haizaki's gaze drifted toward the laptop on the desk.
"Busy with your novel?"
That was what he said, but what was displayed on the screen seemed to be… photos.
Haizaki's pupils widened slightly, and he froze.
They were photos of him.
"Ah—ah!"
Utaha immediately reacted. She hurriedly blocked Haizaki's view and, as fast as possible, closed the laptop—completely ignoring the loud bang caused by shutting it with too much force.
"It's nothing."
The moment she realized Haizaki had seen the screen, Utaha's body reacted instinctively, preventing him from seeing things he "shouldn't" see.
Being absorbed in admiring his photos—
Wouldn't that make her look like a pervert?
However, after completing that series of actions, Utaha realized she shouldn't have closed the laptop.
She should have calmly said she was looking at photos to find inspiration for scenes.
Now, wasn't she just telling Haizaki that she had something to hide, that there was something wrong with the laptop?
Utaha felt deep regret.
It was all Haizaki's fault for suddenly appearing behind her and scaring her, making her lose her basic judgment.
…