[Text Messages]
Shiro Sakamaki: Yes, yes, but I'm not at home today. You'll need to ask Nino and the others to open the door downstairs.
Nanami: Got it. Where's the key to your house?
Shiro: It's under the potted plant by the front door. Just move it a bit, you'll see it.
Shiro: If you want to keep it after cleaning, go ahead—you'll need it again later. I'll send you the Nakano family's contact info later.
After forwarding Nino's contact info, Shiro messaged her again, explaining the whole situation. After calling him a capitalist with no shame, the sharp-tongued but soft-hearted Nino still agreed to help—happily, even.
With everything arranged, Shiro finally tucked away his phone and turned his attention back to food-hunting with Eriri.
Breakfast at Totsuki Resort was noodle-themed, and each booth had to serve a minimum of 100 portions. That meant fast cooking, fast eating, and intense competition.
The first team to wrap things up at their venue was, unsurprisingly, Nene Kinokuni. Representing the traditionalist culinary house of soba makers, she was a master of restraint and skill.
Shiro had wandered the area already and noticed no other familiar faces, meaning Isshiki Satoshi and others must've been assigned to different venues. Sure enough, when he glanced at the leaderboard, Isshiki topped another hall's rankings.
East and West Totsuki—two rising stars taking top spots. Fate had a funny way of pairing rivals.
—
After the breakfast round concluded, the accommodation study segment was mostly over. Totsuki had one last tradition—a show meal prepared by the judges themselves, allowing students a glimpse at the elite's true power.
But that part was for students. Invited guests like Shiro and Eriri weren't included.
As the event wound down, Eriri tugged at Shiro's sleeve.
"I'm heading home."
"So soon? Why not hit the hot springs first?"
Eriri scratched her head in frustration. "I've got manuscripts stacked a mile high. If I don't get home, I'm dead."
"Come on, take a break for once."
"You don't get it—if I miss my deadline, my readers will riot on Twitter."
Shiro smirked. "And what can they really do? Besides, who even knows about your little secret identity, aside from me and your parents—"
"Don't say that name!" Eriri jumped forward, slapping a hand over his mouth.
Shiro gave a mock salute. "Okay, okay. I won't say it. Just let me breathe."
After making him swear not to mention her pen name again, she sighed. "It's so embarrassing… Don't bring it up."
"Then why take this path? With your art skills, you could've gone mainstream."
"You don't understand. Getting out of that world is harder than getting in."
Eriri's irritation bubbled just beneath the surface. She had chosen a story-light genre to get her foot in the door, but it had become a curse. Years of drawing... those kinds of scenes had warped her style. Now, even a pure schoolgirl came out looking like a sultry hostess on paper.
It frustrated her deeply—and Shiro's innocent question had hit a raw nerve.
"Alright, I'll take you back."
"No need. Just have a driver take me. You can stay here."
She paused, then added bitterly, "Stay with Yukinoshita if you want."
Shiro blinked. "You don't mind?"
"Would it matter if I did?" Her voice was soft but resigned. "If it did, I'd mind it."
He never thought the once fiery, prideful Eriri would say something like that. And oddly, his admiration for her grew.
"Ahem… I am serious about you, Eriri."
"Oh? And what about Yukinoshita?"
"I'm serious about her too. Heaven and Earth can vouch for me. Touch it and see if I'm lying."
He grabbed her hand and guided it to his chest.
Eriri yanked it away. "Your sincerity's so generous, everyone gets a share."
Shiro chuckled and replied humbly, "It's not that big a share. Just a bunch of broken pieces."
She finished packing the last item in her small case and sighed. "I get it. You don't need to explain. You're a bastard… and I'm just unlucky."
"Hehe..." Shiro rubbed the back of his head, saying nothing. Some things were better left unsaid.
He watched as Eriri got into the car and drove off.
—
Turning around, he spotted Yukinoshita Haruno, leaning casually nearby.
"Didn't expect you to part with your little lover so soon. I figured you two would be inseparable."
"Eriri has her own work. I can't hog her time. I'm a firm believer in equality."
Shiro's noble tone was comically overdone, like he'd made some grand sacrifice.
Haruno, who knew him far too well to be fooled, just laughed quietly. Still, she didn't care. For now, he belonged to her.
"By the way," she said suddenly, "Did something happen last night? I thought I saw something—black mist, like a curtain falling. Just like last time."
Shiro blinked. She could see the barrier? That meant what happened before must've awakened something in her…
"It ended last night," he said. "I'm not clear on the details, but I saw Shinomiya Un'yō and the others this morning. Their faces didn't look great, but it wasn't serious."
"Gojo's team won, then?"
"Most likely. Though they haven't shown up yet. Probably got hurt. But they'll be fine."
Haruno said nothing more, watching him with curious eyes.
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