Shirakawa Natsu sent his resume to various schools. With his achievements in the comics industry, getting a special offer wasn't difficult.
But he wanted to apply to a top university, and the approval process was convoluted and exhausting. He couldn't even remember how many times he had submitted messy, incomplete information.
"It's finally done." Natsu rubbed his sore eyes, stood, and stretched his arms overhead, savoring a long-awaited sense of relief, like finally unclogging a blocked path.
He glanced out the window. The sun hung low on the western horizon, casting a red veil over the sky. A gentle breeze drifted through the window, brushing against his cheeks—perfect walking weather.
Changing into sportswear, he left the study, tossed his worn clothes and laundry into the front-loading washing machine. A few items belonged to Yazhikui; yesterday's T-shirt was still there, with two stubborn marks that hadn't washed out yet. He planned to toss it in too, and as he lifted the shirt, a set of black lace underwear slipped into view—delicately feminine.
Natsu carefully placed it back where it belonged. Better not to wash it—washing it could create misunderstandings or, worse, destroy important evidence.
The washing machine buzzed as the clothes tumbled. Natsu laced up his sneakers and stepped outside, feeling his body warm from the movement. The evening cooled faster than the daytime sun, and his frail frame shivered in the breeze. He pulled his collar up, shielding his neck.
"Better head back… need to find a girl who's easy to handle," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. This weak body couldn't handle illness; even a small cold might trigger strange complications.
He lifted his eyes and froze. Downstairs, in a small flower bed surrounded by benches, sat a silver-haired figure. The back view was enough—he recognized the hair instantly.
"Kimura Sakae…" Natsu murmured, starting to leave. But after a few steps, he stopped. There was no reason she should be here, yet he felt uneasy.
He approached cautiously. From behind, she appeared thin, her frame slender in a way that was uniquely feminine—but his sickly body made him perceive femininity even in men. Kimura Sakae didn't notice him as she focused on a tablet, carefully flipping through it.
Her personal profile was displayed. Natsu caught a glimpse of a photo—his ID picture. Kimura Sakae seemed to sense him, turning with a curious tilt of her head. Her expression didn't change when she saw him. She casually turned off the screen and smiled.
"So it's you, Mr. Natsu. It seems fate keeps bringing us together."
Natsu didn't mention what he'd seen on the tablet. Instead, he asked, "Why are you here?"
"I live nearby," she said, standing. "Are you coming over?"
"Uh… I still have things to do at home. Maybe next time." He waved, then whispered a few words to her before bowing and walking away.
He kept a normal pace until he reached a corner, then quickened his steps once he confirmed she wasn't following. Tokyo was huge—he didn't believe they'd randomly meet again. Yet the memory of recent surveillance unsettled him.
Her motive? Perhaps it was enough to manipulate his childhood sweetheart's past into her own plan. The pieces fit: Kimura Sakae had been spying, gathering information, and executing an ulterior plan. Thinking of her increasingly feminine appearance sent chills racing up Natsu's spine.
He didn't return straight to the apartment. Instead, he moved through crowded streets, confirming no one was tailing him before entering the building's lobby. In the elevator, he pressed the close button, watching the doors shut and letting out a long breath.
"It's safe."
But the doors creaked open again. Kimura Sakae stood there, pressing the door open. Her gentle smile returned.
"Mr. Natsu, it seems there's something special connecting us," she said.
Natsu widened his eyes. Mouth slightly agape, he forced a smile. "What a coincidence."
She stepped into the elevator, pressed the twelfth floor, and turned back to ask, "Which floor do you live on?"
To Natsu, her gentle, elegant demeanor suddenly felt like a mischievous villain from a movie.
"Haha, what a coincidence," he laughed. "I'm on the twelfth floor too."
She looked surprised. "Sorry, we haven't met."
"I just moved in," Natsu replied, smiling. "Four households on the first floor, and I don't go out much. It's normal we haven't met."
He pulled out his phone under the guise of checking messages, thinking quickly. If needed, he could alert the apartment staff with a message: "Help, twelfth floor, come quickly!" Luckily, there was a signal in the elevator.
He put his phone away, subtly moving away from her. His weak body couldn't confront Kimura Sakae physically.
"Ding dong."
The elevator beeped and opened. "Please, Miss Kimura," Natsu gestured politely—a rare formal gesture since leaving Dongguo.
Kimura Sakae smiled, stepping out. Natsu followed, keeping a cautious distance.
She didn't rush. "Which room do you live in?"
Room 04, of course he wouldn't say. He stammered vaguely, eyes darting, anxious she might reveal too much.
Just then, another elevator chimed. Two uniformed security guards emerged, eyes scanning the area before settling on Kimura Sakae. Natsu exhaled in relief. He recognized them from downstairs.
The guards saluted. "Miss Kimura, do you need assistance?"
They then eyed Natsu like a pervert, ready to protect the woman.
"?" Natsu made a small question mark with his expression.
"Sorry," Kimura Sakae said lightly. "It seems there was a misunderstanding with you, Mr. Natsu."
She walked to Room 1, unlocked the door with a click, and smiled at him.
"Why do you have my information?" he asked, unwilling to believe in coincidences.
"I see you think I'm terrible," she said calmly, presenting the tablet. "I was reviewing special talent admissions applications out of curiosity—it's your application. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding."
Natsu swiped the screen. His personal info appeared, with several "meets standard" marks beneath it.
Seeing his reaction, Kimura Sakae smiled. "You've already seen it. You can prepare to enroll early."
"You didn't just mark 'meets standard' yourself, did you?" he asked.
"No, not just me," she replied. "You're an outstanding young talent. Everyone admires you. Any reviewer at Dongda University would mark you as meeting the standard."
Natsu turned to the security guards. "When did she move in?"
"Three months ago," they replied, glancing at each other.
He gestured to himself. "And me?"
They froze, remembering, then brightened. "Ah yes… you're also a resident!"
Natsu smiled inwardly. These two guards had always been vigilant. Every time he passed, they saluted him warmly. They were reliable—no fakes here.