“...A gift from the gods?”

Harutaki repeated his sister’s words under his breath, still struggling to make sense of them.

In the middle of the night, his little sister barges into his room, slips under his blanket, and starts saying cryptic things. Was this some new kind of prank?

But regardless of what was going on, both reason and instinct were screaming the same thing: get Fuyuno off him, now.

He wasn’t a pervert, at least he didn’t think he was, but after nearly a month of monk-like self-control, even a fleeting fantasy was enough to push him to the edge. There was this odd, pressurized feeling swelling in his chest, like he’d somehow turned into a pufferfish.

Even if Fuyuno was technically his sister, to him, she felt more like his best friend’s little sister. Not his.

And once that thought crept in, guilt came rushing up like a flood. It was the kind of shame you’d feel betraying a sworn brother. His blood ran hotter, the pounding in his ears loud enough to drown out everything else. Hormones spiked, driving heat straight toward that source of both agony and pleasure every teenage boy knew all too well.

“Oh my, looks like the donut really doesn’t fit~”

Her muffled voice came from under the blanket, sounding as if she were pinching her nose.

“Wait, wait a sec, Fuyuno, we’re— ”

“What? Don’t tell me you were about to say ‘we’re siblings,’ or something equally boring and unromantic? Even you, Hoshikawa Harutaki, don’t actually believe that, do you?”

His hand froze mid-motion, still gripping her wrist. His heart started pounding harder and faster.

Could it be… she’d already realized?

He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d known this moment would come. He’d tried to prepare himself.

And yet, when it actually arrived, panic washed over him. Panic, and strangely enough, a flicker of relief.

It was like a student dreading the day his parents found out about his disastrous exam results: once they knew, once the secret was out, the weight lifted. Fear of the scolding to come couldn’t compare to the exhaustion of hiding it.

Or maybe it was closer to a fugitive who’d been on the run for a month finally being caught, finally able to stop wondering whether to turn himself in or wait for the knock at the door.

He’d already expected this, ever since the moment he made his choice.

“So, I guess you figured it out too, Fuyuno. I’m actually— ”

“Shh— ”

Her hand, soft, warm, and impossibly smooth, pressed gently over his lips, silencing him.

“You don’t actually think Ayaka, Chiaki, or I are idiots, do you?”

“...”

“When someone you’ve lived with for years suddenly changes completely, sure, a little self-reflection could explain it. But a total 180? From creepy shut-in to smooth-talking dreamboat overnight? That’s not a personality shift, that’s divine intervention or possession. There’s no other explanation.”

“Well, there are stories about people’s brains getting scrambled and their personalities changing after head trauma,” Harutaki said half-jokingly, trying to cut through the tension. “There was a guy in America who hit his head diving, turned into a math prodigy. So if I end up as a famous mathematician one day, don’t be too surprised, okay?”

“Still making excuses, huh? Did a door slam on your head or something?”

“Door or no door, the real question is, if you know I’m not the real Hoshikawa Harutaki, why sneak into my room in the middle of the night? That makes you the idiot, doesn’t it?”

She actually took him seriously. Then mocked him.

Yeah, this brat definitely needed to be taught a lesson.

“Aren’t you scared I’ll take advantage of you right now? With Ayaka and Chiaki both fast asleep?”

He shoved the blanket aside, gripped her slender shoulders, and flipped her beneath him.

She was light, alarmingly so. The thought flashed across his mind as the moonlight filtered through the curtains, scattering across the rumpled sheets like silvery water.

The soft fabric of her frilly nightdress clung to her like a veil of mist, outlining a body delicate as spun sugar. Her cherry-colored eyes glimmered under the pale light, lips curving in a teasing, disdainful smirk that said: You wouldn’t dare.

“Harutaki wouldn’t actually do anything, would he?”

Her tone was light, almost musical. She poked his cheek once, twice, as if expecting him to puff up like a fish.

“Every time you go out, who knows with which girl, you come home with sweets for Ayaka, Chiaki, and me. That’s very thoughtful, sure. But girls don’t want a thoughtful guy. They want a guy who’s thoughtful only for them.”

“Quit talking nonsense…”

Her whisper hit him like a splash of cold water. Harutaki sucked in a sharp breath and forced every impure thought deep down where it couldn’t reach him.

“The one pretending here is you, you know,” Fuyuno teased. “You look like a bargain-brand minimalist model trying to hide how pathetic he really is.”

Her finger flicked against his cheek. The jolt made him flinch; his whole body stiffened as if an electric current ran through him.

The Hoshikawa Harutaki battleship is ready to launch!

Captain Harutaki is uncorking the champagne! Emergency! The ship’s listing! Hoshikawa Harutaki’s going down!

“Has anyone told you your acting’s worse than an underground idol’s? Even they can smile sweetly when a greasy otaku with questionable hygiene reaches out to them.”

“The kind of scum who’d really hurt a girl doesn’t warn her first.”

She giggled, completely relaxed, as though the boy pinning her down were the same brother she’d grown up with all her life.

“People have told me I’m a bad actor,” he said with a wry smile. “But you know what else they’ve said?”

He flipped her over like a pancake, and slapped her butt.

Smack.

“Hoshikawa’s the kind of jerk who’ll throw a punch even at bratty kids.”

“Guh, ! You hit that hard?!”

Smack.

“Keheheh… You’ll never understand how satisfying it feels to punish a smug little brat like you.”

But just as Harutaki was about to continue his “lesson”,

Knock knock knock.

Both of them froze.

He shoved Fuyuno to the side and dove under the blanket. She reacted just as fast, rolling over and pressing herself flat against his chest, exactly like when they’d first locked eyes earlier.

“H-Harutaki-nii…”

In the dim moonlight, Harutaki turned his head toward the doorway, where Chiaki stood, fidgeting.

She gripped the hem of her nightgown tightly, brown hair spilling over her face, hiding her expression.

You too? Seriously?!

“Chiaki… what are you doing up so late? Staying up’s bad for your skin, you know.”

Fuyuno’s earlier words echoed in his head. Even though he’d steeled himself for this conversation, he couldn’t help probing carefully.

“Actually… you’re not the same Harutaki anymore, are you?”

…Figures.

He sighed inwardly, wondering what exactly had brought her here at this hour. Surely she wasn’t thinking the same thing as Fuyuno,

He tugged hard at his waistband, bit back a curse, and nodded.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I—”

“Why are you apologizing? You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

Her answer took him by surprise. Chiaki climbed onto the bed, movements delicate and unhurried. Before he could react, she settled beside him, emerald eyes gleaming like a cat’s in the dark.

She was right.

Why was he apologizing?

He hadn’t chosen this. He’d been forced out of his old, ordinary life, dropped into this new one without warning.

How could that possibly be his fault?