The café was awash with golden evening light, soft rays filtering through tall glass windows and scattering over polished wooden tables. Outside, the street hummed with the fading bustle of commuters, but inside, the air carried only the low murmur of conversation and the faint scent of roasted beans.
Across from Haruto Amakawa, Miura Yumiko sat with perfect posture, her fingers resting lightly on the rim of her untouched cappuccino. Her amber eyes locked onto his with unflinching resolve, though beneath the surface, her heartbeat was unsteady.
"Haruto-kun," she said, her tone deliberately steady, "if I told you I don't like you anymore… if I said I don't want to be your girlfriend—would you take back the sub-group system?"
The words weren't born of cruelty. Yumiko had tasted enough of the system to know its value, and deep inside, she feared losing her only bridge to him.
Haruto leaned back, the corner of his mouth twitching with faint amusement. His gaze—calm, unreadable—met hers head-on.
"No," he replied simply. "I won't."
Yumiko blinked.
"Even if you refuse me," Haruto continued, his voice carrying an easygoing lilt that only deepened the chill behind it, "I'll find my own way to make you mine."
Her breath caught.
"…Don't say things like that in front of the victim, you idiot," she muttered, averting her gaze with a frown.
But her shoulders relaxed. Relief blossomed quietly in her chest. Knowing that the system wouldn't vanish even if she rejected him—it eased the knot of anxiety she hadn't admitted to herself.
Lifting her chin, Yumiko flipped her golden hair with practiced grace, regaining her usual proud composure.
"Of course, I won't accept your terms that easily. If you want me, then prove it. I'll be waiting."
Her heels clicked against the floor as she rose and strode out of the café.
Haruto didn't stop her. He only smirked faintly, swirling the last sip of coffee in his cup. She hadn't realized it, but by saying she couldn't accept him "for now," she'd already left the door half-open.
"There's always a second time after the first," he thought. "I just need to wait for the right moment."
---
Twilight deepened into violet shadows as Haruto parted ways with Kato Megumi at their usual intersection. She gave her soft, almost whispered goodbye, disappearing down the street, leaving behind the faint scent of lavender.
When he reached his apartment, a different aroma drifted to greet him—ginger and soy mingling with the buttery warmth of grilled fish. Inside, Sakurajima Mai stood at the stove, her hair tied loosely back, an apron tied around her waist. The yellow ceiling light bathed her in a quiet glow, turning the scene into something oddly domestic.
"Dinner's ready," she said, trying to sound casual. "Let's eat."
For a moment, Haruto just watched her, the image of a wife welcoming him home unexpectedly vivid.
"…Sure," he said, lips curving into a faint smile.
The table was modest but full: steaming bowls of miso soup laced with tofu and seaweed, perfectly salted grilled mackerel that flaked apart under his chopsticks, and a bright dish of simmered vegetables—daikon, carrots, and green beans gleaming under a light glaze. There was even tamagoyaki, its golden layers slightly uneven but fluffy, sweet, and warm. The flavors weren't refined, but each bite carried an honest, comforting touch—food made not by skill, but by care.
After they finished, Mai briskly gathered the dishes. Haruto offered to help, but she waved him off, insisting. So he leaned against the sofa, watching her slim figure move between sink and cupboard. The sound of running water filled the room, mingling with the clink of porcelain.
"Mai," Haruto said lazily, head tilted back, "you'd make a great wife."
The plate in her hands nearly slipped.
"W-what are you saying?!" she stammered, her cheeks blooming red.
He chuckled. "I'm just saying…"
But his teasing trailed off as a crystalline chime echoed in his mind.
[Ding! Saeko Busujima has sent a trade request!]
Haruto's eyes narrowed in interest.
[Request: Make her stronger.]
"Well, well," he murmured. "Looks like Saeko finally made up her mind."
He didn't hesitate. His choice was decisive, cold in its clarity.
[Trade condition: Body usage rights, one time. Duration: 3 hours.]
Almost immediately, she accepted.
[Ding! Trade confirmed.]
[Partner: Saeko Busujima]
[Objective: Make her stronger]
[Condition: Body usage rights, one time]
[Duration: 3 hours]
The chat group, silent until then, stirred awake.
---
Chat Group
Stella: Oh come on! Again? Does it always end up like this?
Saeko Busujima: I'm sorry… But if I stay weak, I'll die. We all will. In my world, survival is everything.
Her words carried the weight of blood and rot—their lives surrounded daily by the endless groans of the dead.
Stella: That's not what I meant. I just… wish trades could be normal, for once. Something that doesn't feel so—
Frieren: Filthy? Odd. Humans call intimacy sacred, yet treat it as dirt. Strange contradiction.
Stella: …You're impossible.
Ayame Yomogawa: Stella, we have nothing else. In a ruined world, all we have left to trade is ourselves.
Saeko Busujima: Exactly. If my body is the only bargaining chip that buys strength, then I'll use it.
Kato Megumi: …It sounds so painful. So desperate.
Akame: Desperation is exactly what drives people to choices they'd never imagine otherwise.
The chat fell into uneasy silence.
---
Elsewhere, Miura Yumiko soaked in her bath, warm steam curling around her flushed skin. The phone propped at the edge of the tub glowed faintly as she scrolled through the conversation. Droplets slid down her collarbone, vanishing beneath the water's surface as she read in silence.
Clips from past livestreams played in the archives—Haruto wreathed in power, tearing down monsters, his figure blazing like a storm given form. To some, he was a savior. To Yumiko, he was something far more complicated.
Her hand drifted absently along the surface of the water, tracing ripples.
"…So it's happening again?" she whispered. This was already Saeko's second time.
Her chest tightened. The faces of the other girls flickered through her mind, their desperation, their reliance. Haruto's figure loomed behind them all, untouchable, unstoppable.
Her lips parted, a whisper slipping free as her body sank deeper into the water.
"Haruto-kun… why can't you only love me?"
The words dissolved into the steam, unheard by anyone but herself.