After a while, Hayashi Maki reluctantly let go of Mahiru.
Looking at her in his arms, cheeks flushed, he couldn't help feeling heat rise in his chest.
Mahiru shifted in his embrace, then turned so her back rested against him.
"Maki-kun, dinner's ready. Do you want to eat first, or… do something else?"
"Mm, let's just hold each other a bit. Are you hungry? If you are, we'll call Mashiro over and take care of our stomachs first."
Smiling, Hayashi Maki wrapped an arm around her slim waist, quietly savoring the warmth of her soft body leaning into him—and tossed the choice back to her.
Mahiru dipped her head noncommittally.
"I'm not that hungry. We can eat later. As for Sis Mashiro, I gave her pocket money and she spent it on Baumkuchen again—she'll probably only eat a little tonight. At least this time she remembered to pay the clerk, otherwise I wouldn't know what to say to her."
Hayashi Maki chuckled.
"We'll take it slow. Mashiro said back in the UK a roommate named Rita handled all the daily chores for her. With Rita gone, she has to rely on us now."
Mahiru nodded with a smile.
"I know—I was just saying. I'm not blaming her. She's a world-class artist; it probably does take someone single-mindedly devoted to painting to create such masterpieces."
"We'll teach her bit by bit. We don't have a maid; we'll have to look after her ourselves. And since we're in different schools during the day, we can't watch her all the time."
"Honestly, this place is too small. Maki-kun, have you thought about buying a bigger place? You don't seem short on money anymore."
Hayashi Maki nodded.
"Yeah, it's time to upgrade. But I don't want to leave here—this place has so many of our memories. And there's a real angel living upstairs. It's the safest spot."
Don't be fooled by Gabriel's lazy, gamer-girl vibe—once she gets serious, her strength is no joke. Plus… she holds the horn of apocalypse. The "apocalypse horn" is really a rally horn—blow it and your enemies get a visit from archangel Gabriel leading a battle host.
Hearing his reasoning, Mahiru found it sensible. If possible, she didn't want to move either—here they slept together and lived closely. But, thinking longer-term, she knew a bigger place was necessary. Couples still need some private space. Sometimes she had her own things to do—and Maki-kun, this incorrigible flirt, needed time to soothe all the other girls.
"I've got it! What if I just expand this place?" Hayashi Maki's eyes lit up.
"Eh? Expand? How?"
He gave a mysterious smile. "You'll see tomorrow."
After holding her a bit longer, he got up to fetch Mashiro for dinner. But when he stepped into her room and saw the chaos—clothes and underwear tossed everywhere, sketch paper scattered—he sighed deeply. With no one to look after her, Mashiro's living habits were a mess. But he couldn't dump all of that on Mahiru.
Fortunately, he was a demon—with magic.
He snapped his fingers. Clothes and pants on the bed—and sketch paper and manga on the floor—rose into the air. Under Mashiro's wide-eyed stare, the clothes folded themselves and slid into the suitcase and closet. The manga shelved themselves neatly. In under a minute, the room was orderly.
"Wow… amazing. Is this magic?" Mashiro blinked and said it flatly—though her eyes sparkled.
"It is. And don't tell anyone." Hayashi Maki ruffled her hair, took her hand. "Come on—dinner."
"Mm."
Feeling his hand clasp hers, Mashiro tightened her grip reflexively. Being led by her "keeper" made her feel safe—especially a keeper who wielded real, mysterious power. It felt just like the magic in manga—so she relaxed even more.
…
"I'm digging in."
With the usual "I'm going to eat you" greeting to the food, Hayashi Maki started on Mahiru's delicious dinner. As he ate, a look of contentment crept over his face—and happiness is contagious. Seeing him so satisfied, Mahiru couldn't help a sweet smile; her mood lifted.
Mashiro, on the other hand, frowned, picked out every green pepper, then looked imploringly at Mahiru and Hayashi Maki.
Mahiru stared, exasperated. "Mashiro-nee, no picking. The bell peppers aren't spicy—they're sweet. Eat them, please."
When playing cute didn't work, Mashiro stared straight at Hayashi Maki. He pretended not to see. This was Mahiru's lesson to give—he was too soft-hearted.
"Don't look at him. Maki-kun ate his, which means they're good. You need balanced nutrition—otherwise that slender body will suffer later."
Mashiro glanced at Mahiru's full chest. "If I eat bell peppers, will my boobs get as big as Mahiru's?"
"Uh… it should help. Balanced nutrition is the key," Mahiru said solemnly, fibbing through her smile.
Mashiro took it at face value. After a long glare at the peppers, she painstakingly lifted one and put it in her mouth. Halfway through, she couldn't manage another bite. Dislike is dislike—no amount of self-persuasion made it edible.
Hayashi Maki sighed. "Alright, you win. I'll eat half. But we aren't wasting Mahiru's hard work."
Mahiru shot him a mock-scolding look—if he kept spoiling Mashiro, she'd get complacent. But for such a small thing, it didn't matter.
Mashiro nodded gratefully at him.
After dinner, Mahiru pulled Mashiro aside for a whisper. She planned to have Mashiro bathe here. Last time she'd told her to brush her teeth and wash up, she'd come back soaking wet—she didn't even know how to brush her teeth or wash her face properly.
That "Rita" person must have done even those tasks for her. How much patience does it take to do that every day? Was she a servant?