"Seriously, Brother? Opportunities are literally slapping you in the face and you back away? Two steps back? Are you for real? Even in another world, you're destined to be a bachelor. I'm starting to lose hope that I'll ever see a wedding!"
Hachiman Hikigaya stared at his phone, his soul slowly leaking out of his mouth.
"Is something wrong? Did Komachi send an important email?"
Yukino's voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp, radiating a faint, predatory pressure. Hachiman snapped his phone shut with a panicked click, his face a mask of practiced, albeit transparent, innocence. "No, nothing. She just said I'm famous now. That's all."
If Yukino found out his sister was currently roasting his lack of romantic initiative on a global stage, she might not mock Komachi, but she would definitely dismantle Hachiman with her sharp tongue. He could already hear it: "A social pariah like you shouldn't confuse a girl's basic gratitude for a fairytale ending, Hikigaya-kun." Hachiman shrank into his seat, offering a sheepish, apologetic wince to the other customers in the convenience store who were staring at him with unreadable expressions. He wanted to disappear. Being broadcasted globally was one thing; being broadcasted while stuttering like a malfunctioning robot in front of a beautiful girl was the ultimate, history-making humiliation.
Beside him, Yukino suppressed her curiosity. Her heart had been on a roller coaster since the video started, and she was currently grappling with a new, nagging sensation. It was obvious to anyone with a brain that Emilia was the type to form deep attachments to those who helped her—and Hachiman, despite his best efforts to be a loner, had a chronic habit of "accidentally" saving people. The math for the future was starting to look very complicated.
[On the screen, the arrival of Felt has thrown the Council of Sages into a panic. The Royal Selection has been officially delayed, giving Emilia a sudden windfall of free time. She hires a ground dragon carriage to transport Hachiman back to the domain of her sponsor, Margrave Roswaal L. Mathers.]
[The mental exhaustion of two life-or-death loops finally catches up to Hachiman. Mid-transit, he falls into a deep, fitful slumber.]
[Darkness... an infinite, suffocating void.]
[In his dream, Hachiman finds himself back home. He sees the blue marble of Earth, his familiar street, and his sister, Komachi, looking pale and distraught.]
["Komachi!"]
[He screams her name, but no sound reaches her. He lunges forward to comfort her, but his hands pass through her like a ghost's. He is a phantom in his own world, a memory that no longer belongs. The realization hits him like a physical blow—the Isekai, the summoning, the deaths—they were all real.]
[Suddenly, the scene warps. The peaceful street vanishes. Komachi is running, her face twisted in terror, fleeing through a dark alley. Behind her, a shadow looms.]
[It's the Bowel Hunter. Elsa Granhiert, her blades dripping with fresh gore, her eyes wide with a manic, murderous joy.]
[Hachiman tries to scream, to fight, but he is falling into a bottomless abyss. He flails his limbs, his heart hammering against his ribs, but just as the darkness is about to swallow him, he feels a faint, steady warmth against his palms.]
["KOMACHI!!!"]
[With a roar of pure, desperate agony, Hachiman snaps awake. He bolts upright in bed, his eyes wild and wide, ready to tear apart anyone in his path. Cold sweat soaks his clothes, making the high-quality silk cling to his skin.]
[He breathes heavily, his chest heaving, his gaze darting around for a threat... only to freeze.]
[There is no Elsa. There is no blood. There is only a spacious, sun-drenched room and two young girls in maid uniforms who look like they've just seen a ghost. They have short, chic hair—one pink, one blue—and white skin that looks like porcelain. They are nearly identical, save for their color palettes.]
["Sister, Sister. It seems our guest has some profound mental stability issues."]
["Rem, Rem. It seems our guest truly has some profound mental stability issues."]
[Their voices are a clinical, synchronized deadpan. Ordinarily, Hachiman would find the commentary insulting, but he barely hears the words. His eyes drop to his hands.]
[The two sisters are each holding one of his hands. Despite his palms being clammy with the cold sweat of a nightmare, they haven't let go. They are holding him anchored to reality.]
[Hachiman blinks, his high IQ quickly deducing the situation. "You two... were you trying to help me through the nightmare?"]
[The maids remain silent, neither taking credit nor denying it. They pull their hands back with practiced grace. However, the look in their eyes isn't one of disdain; they look at him with a strange sense of acknowledgment—not as a stranger, but as a comrade-in-arms.]
[Then, the delay ends. Hachiman's social consciousness catches up to his physical reality.]
[He—a certified loner—was just holding hands with two incredibly cute girls at the same time. His face begins to heat up, the red creeping from his neck to the tips of his ears.]
[Click.]
[The door opens, and Emilia enters. She sees Hachiman's beet-red face and immediately rushes to the bedside. "Hachiman-kun! What happened? I heard you screaming... is the room not to your liking? Are you ill?"]
["No, it's not that... I mean, it is, but it isn't..."]
[His brain has effectively turned into a steam engine, venting heat at a dangerous rate. Emilia can't help but let out a small, musical giggle at his flustered state. "If you need anything, Hachiman-kun, you only have to ask. As long as it isn't too unreasonable."]
[Hachiman takes a deep, shuddering breath. He pulls the expensive duvet up to his chin, wrapping himself in a protective cocoon of silk. He looks like a cornered animal, his voice barely a whisper.]
["Then... I'll be direct. Please don't take this the wrong way, but..."]
["Could you all please just... get out?"]
[Three beautiful girls are staring at him while he's in bed, in his pajamas, after he just woke up screaming like a lunatic. The shame is too much. He just wants to dissolve into the mattress and cease to exist.]