The soft rustle of sheets was the only sound in the quiet room, pierced by the slow, teasing whisper that brushed against her ear.
"Miss Eiri Kashiwagi~ You wouldn't want the world to know you're a certain... doujinshi artist, would you?"
Adrian's voice was low and silky, his warm breath brushing against her flushed cheek like a ghost of mischief. Eiri froze where she sat on the edge of her bed, her thighs tight together, face glowing red with a mixture of embarrassment and helpless indignation.
"You... you... don't come so close...!"
Her voice trembled, growing quieter by the second, until it melted into a soft whimper. She turned her head away, ashamed, her twin tails twitching like a startled cat's.
Adrian smiled. It was the kind of smile that belonged to a man who knew exactly what strings he was pulling—and how deeply they were knotted into the heart of his target. With a mock sigh of mercy, he loosened his grip and stepped back. Eiri's tense body dropped back onto the mattress with a soft bounce, her bottom settling into the sheets like she'd just escaped a predator.
"I didn't come to box with you, Eiri. No need to cry," Adrian said, folding his arms with the air of someone far too pleased with himself.
"You're worse than boxing!" she shot back, furious but weaponless—literally. She looked around, desperate for something to throw at him, only to find her desk cleared clean.
Frustrated beyond words, she jumped up and launched an assault with the only things left at her disposal: her hair.
Whap! Whap!
Her golden twin tails whipped through the air like a pair of golden whips, striking with surprising precision. The sound echoed through the room, fierce and rapid, like war drums.
But Adrian, unfazed, stepped in with grace and speed, catching her by the shoulders and holding her in place. She barely had time to process the motion before his hand slipped beneath her chin, tilting it up.
"This," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, "is what's worse than boxing."
Then he kissed her.
Her eyes widened in shock, lips muffled under his. Her body froze at first—then trembled. She gasped softly, and he took that as invitation, deepening the kiss just a touch, enough to send a shiver down her spine.
She had drawn these scenes a hundred times—no, a thousand. She'd illustrated entire volumes of girls swooning into forced, forbidden kisses, hearts fluttering in disbelief.
But this wasn't ink. This wasn't paper. This was heat, breath, the tight grip on her waist, the racing heartbeat hammering against her chest.
When he finally pulled away, time itself had blurred.
"Eiri, don't forget to go—"
The door creaked open.
Adrian turned his head.
There, standing frozen at the threshold, was a striking woman with lavender hair, wearing a casual blouse and an expression that screamed absolute shock. Her red lips parted slightly, but no words came.
"Excuse me," she said at last, turning away. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
The door shut gently behind her.
"Mom!" Eiri yelped, diving for the door.
Too late. The hallway was silent.
"You... you... you!" she cried, pointing a trembling finger at Adrian, who was already casually straightening his collar.
"Kashiwagi-sensei," he said, emphasizing the honorific, "you looked like you were enjoying it quite a bit. Don't go blaming me now."
Steam practically shot from her ears.
"I was—! That was my first kiss, you bastard!"
"Well," Adrian replied smoothly, "you're welcome."
And just like that, he vanished. One moment he stood in front of her, smug as ever, and the next, the room was empty, not a trace left behind but the whirlwind of emotions he stirred.
Eiri stood there for a long moment, fists clenched, face burning hot enough to melt glass. She stomped over to the bed and punched her stuffed bear with a squeal of pure frustration.
"My first kiss! I hate him!"
But her lips betrayed her, trembling under the phantom echo of his. Slowly, almost against her will, she reached up and brushed her fingertips across them.
It had been… different. So very different.
She'd drawn it so many times—different scenarios, different angles, different techniques. But none of them had captured that feeling.
And worse... she didn't hate it. Not completely.
Behind the cracked door, someone was listening.
A pair of curious eyes peeked through the sliver.
"Gone already?" murmured a soft voice. Then the door opened wider and Eiri's mother stepped inside, hands on hips, striding directly toward the window. "Did he jump? It's the third floor, for heaven's sake!"
She leaned out and looked down. Nothing. Not even a shadow.
Eiri flushed scarlet.
"He's not human," she muttered. "He flew away."
"What did you say?" Her mother spun on her heel. "Explain. Everything. Now."
Eiri, still blushing, explained it all. Every word. Every detail.
Meanwhile, back in the shopping district, Adrian walked like a man who had just scored a rare victory.
He'd teased a golden-haired tsundere until she'd melted in his arms, and the emotional payoff was delicious. There was nothing quite as satisfying as peeling back those sharp little layers of defiance to reveal the trembling softness beneath.
After picking up two boxes of high-end pastries, he made his way toward the residential neighborhood.
His figure flickered through the crowd like a wraith—there one second, gone the next.
"No cursed spirits," he muttered, scanning the quiet streets. "Not a single one. It's not my luck—she's just a spirit magnet."
"And where the hell are the yokai? Not even a whiff of demonic aura around here."
He narrowed his eyes toward the mountains.
"Are they hiding? I should clear those hills out later, just in case."
Once, yokai had been a prime source of his loot entries. Now, they barely felt worth the trouble.
He glanced at the time—just past ten in the morning.
After adjusting his outfit, Adrian stopped in front of a neighboring house. His knock was light, polite.
Moments later, footsteps approached. The door cracked open.
A woman appeared—long, chestnut-brown hair cascading over her shoulders, dressed in a snug forest-green blouse and a cream-colored skirt. Her body was mature and curved in all the right places, yet her face bore a softness, a calm confidence that came with age and experience.
And yet, there was something else too—something unspoiled.
The moment their eyes met, something clicked.
"Good morning," she said sweetly. "Can I help you?"
"Good morning, miss," Adrian replied, with a smile as charming as sunshine. "My name is Adrian Blake. I just moved in next door with my two sisters. We've been settling in for the past few days, but I wanted to come by and formally introduce myself."
Her eyes lit up.
"Oh, how lovely. Please, come in."
She guided him to the living room, graceful and hospitable. In minutes, she returned with a tray of tea and delicate sweets.
"I'm Hanayo Akizuki. I just moved in myself not long ago," she said, pouring his tea with delicate hands.
As she leaned forward, her skirt hugged tightly around her waist, outlining every curve. Her blouse stretched subtly, the outline beneath her arms promising a bounty few could resist.
Adrian, expert that he was, saw more than her body. Her posture, the subtle tenseness in her movements—it all pointed to one thing.
She was still untouched.
But something told him she wouldn't remain that way for long.