Dinner wrapped up after about an hour of lively chatting and eating.

As Akira and Shouko stepped out of the dining room, Shouko was still rubbing her stomach. She gave Akira a light smack on the arm and grumbled, "It's all your fault! I told you to stop peeling shrimp, but you kept going!"

As soon as she finished, she let out a tiny burp and immediately covered her mouth in embarrassment.

"Hehe…" Akira couldn't help but laugh, reaching over to gently poke her forehead. The corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk.

"You're blaming me? You were the one guarding your plate like a dragon. Even Junko-nee asked you to share!"

Shouko swatted away his hand, pouting. "That's different!"

Before the conversation could go on, Miyamura Shizuka approached them, rubbing both their heads.

"Alright you two, walk off that food. Let's go get some air."

Without waiting for their agreement, she grabbed both of them and dragged them out of the inn.

Back in the lobby, Mito Junko noticed Mitsuto Iori about to follow them. She quickly grabbed his wrist.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm just helping Auntie walk off dinner too," Iori replied, trying to free himself.

"Nope," Junko said flatly. "You're helping me. That'll help you digest just fine."

She tugged him in the opposite direction, ignoring his resistance.

Then, lowering her voice into a warning whisper, she said, "You want me to tell Dad what you did earlier today? We'll see how you like a nice dinner of belt-fried meat, just like when you were little."

She added, "And remember—he's drunk tonight. He won't go easy on you."

That shut Iori up fast. As soon as she released his wrist, he ran off in the opposite direction—not toward Akira and Shouko, but anywhere that wasn't near his father or sister.

Junko didn't chase him. She'd said her piece. What happened next was his problem.

Outside, just as the trio reached the front steps, a woman's surprised voice called out:

"Shizuka!?"

They all turned toward the voice as Shizuka blinked, equally shocked.

"Yuki!?"

Akira squinted at the woman, who looked like she was in her late 30s—brown wavy hair, glowing skin, curvy figure. She gave off a confident, elegant vibe.

Naturally, Japan's self-proclaimed "famous detective," Akira (Miyamura Akira), began sizing her up like he was solving a case.

"Is she really that pretty?" came a quiet, jealous voice beside him.

Suddenly, his vision went dark—Shouko had covered his eyes.

Akira laughed nervously and gently took her hands away.

"No, no—I was just guessing why she showed up out of nowhere. Totally not staring."

Meanwhile, Miyamura Shizuka walked forward, studying the woman more closely.

"I can't believe it. What are the odds we'd run into each other here?"

Nobi Yuki (whom Shizuka affectionately called "Yuki") grinned brightly.

"I know, right? I just came for a hot spring getaway! Small world."

They stood at the entrance catching up. Toward the end of their chat, Nobi Yuki gave Shizuka a once-over and raised an eyebrow.

"Honestly? I can't believe you've had two kids. You look amazing!"

Shizuka chuckled and proudly pulled Akira and Shouko closer.

"This is my son, Akira. And this is my adopted daughter, Shouko. But to me, they're equally important."

She ruffled Akira's hair and patted Shouko's head.

"And this is my university classmate, Nobi Yuki—but you can call her Yuki onee-san."

"No, no!" Yuki waved her hands frantically. "Just call me Auntie. My son's your age—I can't have middle schoolers calling me 'Onee-san.'"

Shizuka teased, "What? With that skin, I wouldn't believe you even had a kid."

"Oh, I've got a twelve-year-old," Yuki said casually. "Been divorced fifteen years. Remarried nine. Life, huh?"

The three froze.

Even Shouko, confident in her math, started counting on her fingers.

"Divorced fifteen years ago, remarried nine, son is twelve... Wait… huh?" she muttered, completely puzzled.

Before the confusion could continue, Yuki's phone rang.

"Gotta run, Shizuka. Let's catch up again soon, okay?"

She waved and disappeared inside.

"Let's go soak in the hot spring," Shizuka said, leading Akira and Shouko back toward the inn.

But as they climbed to the second floor, a piercing voice stopped them.

"I was wrong! I was wrong! I won't do it again!"

It was Mitsuto Iori's unmistakable wail, echoing through the hall like a banshee.

Akira blinked. "That's… Iori, isn't it?"

Shizuka stormed ahead, flung open a sliding door—and froze.

Inside the living room, Mitsuto Take was bright red, belt in hand. Mitsuto Iori was curled up on the tatami mat, sobbing with his head in his arms.

Mito Junko and her mom were calmly sipping tea at the table like this was an everyday thing.

Shizuka's eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing, Take? Seriously? A belt?"

She stormed in, grabbed the belt away, and glared at him.

Iori peeked up, saw Shizuka, and launched himself behind her without hesitation.

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