I sit there frozen, my brain still trying to process what's happening. Before I can even form a coherent thought, Louis strides over to my closet and pulls it open. His eyes scan my collection of anime t-shirts, oversized hoodies, and well-worn sweaters.

"Huh, all this is garbage, but it will do for now at least," he remarks casually, as if he's commenting on the weather.

My mouth drops open as he reaches for a bag sitting on top of the closet and starts methodically selecting items to pack. I watch in stunned silence, unable to move from my spot on the floor. This can't be real. This has to be some weird manga-induced dream.

"Do you want me to pack your underwear as well?"

The question hits me like a bucket of ice water. Heat rushes to my face so fast I'm surprised my hair doesn't catch fire. "What? My underwear?" I squeak, finally finding my voice. I scramble to my feet and lunge for the bag in his hands, but he doesn't release it. His grip remains steady, unmovable.

His eyes lock onto mine, that familiar coldness sending shivers down my spine. "So, will you pack up fast, or will you make me pack your things?"

I shrink under his gaze, my fingers still clutching the bag. "No, sir, I will take care of it," I mumble, looking anywhere but at him.

"Fast?" The word carries a weight of command that makes me want to disappear into the floor.

"Yes, yes, fast."

I hastily start throwing clothes into the bag, my hands shaking so badly I can barely zip up the pockets. The fabric of my t-shirts and skirts feels foreign under my trembling fingers, like I'm packing for someone else's life entirely. My manga collection catches my eye, but I don't dare ask if I can bring them.

As I'm stuffing socks into a side pocket, it hits me - I'm still in my house clothes. To leave, I'll need to change into proper outdoor wear, and he's still here. My face burns hotter than a summer festival bonfire at the thought. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but-

"Before you start bugging about having to change again, I'm heading out before you." Louis's voice cuts through my panic like a knife. His tone shifts, becoming harder, colder. "But don't make me wait. I hate waiting."

"Yes, sir. I won't. Sure." The words tumble out of my mouth in a rush as I nod so fast I probably look like one of those dashboard bobbleheads.

As he turns to leave, my mind spins like a broken record. Did he just read my mind? Can he do that? First the thing about my otaku origins, and now this? It's like he's got some kind of direct line into my head, predicting my thoughts before I can even fully form them.

The sound of the front door clicking shut snaps me back to reality. I need to hurry - he hates waiting, and I really don't want to find out what happens when Louis Devereux gets angry.

I stand there, paralyzed, as Louis pulls out what looks like a janitor's uniform from his bag. My jaw drops when he starts putting it on over his school clothes. The black workwear jumpsuit has some company logo I don't recognize, and he zips it up with practiced ease.

But that's not even the weirdest part. He pulls out a black cap with the same logo and adjusts it carefully on his head. Then - and I swear I'm not hallucinating - he actually takes out a fake mustache and starts applying adhesive to it.

I blink rapidly, wondering if maybe I dozed off and this is some bizarre dream. But no, Louis Devereux is really standing in my apartment, transforming himself into what looks like a maintenance worker right before my eyes.

He catches me staring and meets my gaze. Those cold eyes are still unmistakably his, even with the ridiculous disguise. "Don't make me come back up here," he warns, his voice carrying that same edge of authority despite the fake mustache now adorning his upper lip.

Then he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. My legs feel wobbly as I sink down onto my bed. What the actual hell did I get myself into? This isn't some cute romance manga anymore - this is straight-up psychological thriller territory. I'm probably going to end up buried somewhere after this outing.

Wait.

My heart skips a beat as it hits me - he never told me where we're supposed to meet. I don't even have his phone number. How am I supposed to...?

* * *

I shift nervously from foot to foot outside my building, clutching my hastily packed bag. The evening crowd flows around me—office workers heading home, students going to cram school, couples on their way to dinner. But which one is Louis? After that ridiculous maintenance worker getup, he could be anyone.

My eyes dart between faces, searching for any hint of that cold stare I've come to know so well. Is he that businessman checking his watch? The delivery guy on the bike? That old lady feeding pigeons? Okay, probably not her, but still.

My heart pounds harder with each passing minute. What if I miss him? What if he's already here and getting annoyed? He hates waiting. The thought makes my palms clammy.

A group of high school boys passes by, laughing at something on their phones. None of them is Louis, but their easy, careless joy reminds me just how far I've drifted from normal high school life. But isn’t this what I wished for all along?

My phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket, making me flinch. I fumble it out with stiff fingers, nearly dropping it twice before I manage to check the screen.

"Bernard is calling."

I freeze. That name… the transfer student from TW. The one Louis is trying to recreate. My thumb hovers over the screen for a second before I swipe to answer.

Before I can even say hello, his voice cuts through, crisp and commanding:

"Back car, across the street at the crossing. Get in the back."

I scan the street, my breath catching when I spot it—a sleek black car idling at the crossing. Not exactly what I expected after that maintenance worker disguise. This looks more like something out of a spy movie than a repair service.

A strange, cold weight settles in my stomach as I force myself to move. Each step feels unsteady, like my body knows something my brain hasn't caught up with yet. The evening crowd blurs around me, distant and meaningless. My pulse thuds in my ears.

When I finally reach the car, a tall woman with striking red hair steps out from the driver’s seat.

Everything about her screams dangerous elegance—from her perfectly tailored suit to the way she holds herself, like a coiled spring ready to strike. The red of her hair reminds me of blood against snow, especially with how pale her skin is. When her green eyes meet mine, I feel like a mouse being sized up by a cat. She’s being polite, sure, but there’s something predatory in that gaze that makes me want to run back upstairs and hide under my bed.

She opens the door with a smooth, practiced motion. “Here you go, miss,” she says, her voice polite but unreadable.

I barely manage a mumbled “Thanks” as I step forward, gripping my bag tighter.

Then I see him.

Louis sits inside, earbuds in, completely focused on something spread across his lap—a tablet with multiple screens open, fingers moving with practiced efficiency.

Relief washes over me. At least he’s not still wearing that ridiculous janitor costume. Or that awful mustache. What was that about, anyway?

I slide into the seat awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably as I settle in next to him. The leather is cool against my legs, but my body stays tense, like I still haven’t quite convinced myself I belong here.

His cologne lingers in the air—expensive and subtle, something refined. It makes my head spin a little. Or maybe that’s just the fear.

I sit as far away from Louis as physically possible, practically molded against the car door. My shoulders are so tense they're starting to ache, but I can't relax. Not here. Not with him.

The redheaded driver slides into her seat, and I catch her adjusting the rearview mirror. Our eyes meet for a brief second before she turns away, smoothly merging the car into the evening traffic.

My hands twist nervously in my lap as I try to figure out what I'm supposed to do. Should I say something? Ask where we're going? Louis hasn't even looked up from his tablet, those white earbuds still firmly in place. The soft glow from the screen illuminates his face, making his features look even sharper, more severe.

Buildings pass by in a blur outside my window, and I realize I have no idea where we're headed. The familiar streets of my neighborhood are already giving way to parts of the city I barely recognize. My stomach churns with anxiety.

What the hell did my life turn into? A week ago, I was just another invisible student, dreaming about romance manga scenarios while hiding in the library. Now I'm in some fancy car with a possibly psychopathic rich guy and his intimidating chauffeur, heading who knows where. This is like something straight out of those dark romance novels I pretend not to read, except those usually have more swooning and less existential dread.

* * *

I sit frozen in the leather seat, trying to shrink into the luxury surrounding me. My cheap cotton dress feels scratchy against the smooth upholstery.

Louis hasn't looked at me once since I got in. He's absorbed in his laptop, speaking rapid-fire French into a sleek wireless earpiece. The words flow past me like water—nothing sticks except the occasional oui or non. Then he switches to English, which somehow makes even less sense. Something about numbers and projections, I think?

I steal a glance at his screen. Charts, graphs, spreadsheets full of symbols I don't recognize. Serious business stuff—the kind you only see in manga when they introduce a CEO character. My eyes linger too long. He catches me looking. I whip my head away so fast I almost give myself whiplash.

The city lights thin as we head toward the highway. Through the tinted windows, I watch familiar buildings give way to darkness and distant mountains. My stomach twists. Where are we going?

Louis ends his call with a clipped au revoir and snaps his laptop shut just as we merge onto the highway. The glow of the screen disappears, leaving us in dim interior lighting.

"You didn’t join any clubs at school. Why?" His question comes out of nowhere, catching me off guard.

My heart skips a beat. He wants to get to know me? The thought makes my palms sweat.

"Well... I wanted to, but I got too anxious about asking. So, I just gave up," I admit, heat rising to my cheeks. It sounds even worse out loud.

"What clubs?" His tone is firm, almost businesslike.

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"I thought the Lit Club would be nice, but they only read classical Japanese novels, and I’m not into that. The Art Club was full of advanced students, and I didn’t want to be the only beginner. I love photography, but what if I broke a camera? I’m super clumsy—my phone’s already in pieces. In the end, it felt safer not to try. I do better alone." The words spill out faster than I can control, and I have to force myself to stop before I say something even more embarrassing.

"So you gave up based on assumptions." His voice is calm, matter-of-fact. "You don’t really know if the Lit Club only reads classics. Maybe they were just hiding their own awkwardness, like you. The Art Club isn’t a professional team—it’s for enthusiasts. With modern art, anything can be considered art. And photography? You don’t need a DSLR. People take great photos with their phones. In short, you gave up without ever trying because you were too weak and nervous. I get the feeling you do that a lot."

Each word lands like a precise knife strike. My throat tightens. He’s right—I do give up. But hearing it laid out so clinically, so bluntly, makes my chest ache.

I laugh nervously, running my fingers through my hair like I always do when I'm uncomfortable. "Yeah, you're right. I guess I'm the worst."

Louis turns to face me, his dark eyes meeting mine with that unsettling intensity. "No, you're definitely not the worst."

My eyes widen, and I feel heat rushing to my cheeks. I'm not the worst? The words echo in my head, making my heart flutter unexpectedly. Why does that make me so happy? It's not even a compliment...

"Anyway, I'm tired. I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up when we get there," he says, closing his eyes and settling back against the leather seat.

"There? Where exactly?" I ask, but he doesn't respond, keeping his eyes firmly shut.

I sit there for a moment, completely confused by this whole situation, before giving up and turning to look out the window. The lights of Kagoshima slip past us, the city gradually giving way to the stunning natural scenery beyond. Mount Sakurajima looms in the distance, its familiar silhouette a constant reminder of home, even as we drive further and further away from everything I know.

* * *

The familiar outline of Kagoshima has long disappeared behind us when I spot the first airport sign. My heart stops. Then another sign, and another, each one pointing us toward Kagoshima Airport. The car follows them faithfully.

No. No no no.

My hands start trembling in my lap. Is he taking me abroad? To France? My mind races through every dark manga plot I've ever read. Human trafficking rings. Underground societies. Secret vampire covens in Eastern Europe.

Stop it, Shizuka. You're being ridiculous.

I try to calm myself down, taking deep breaths like they teach in those meditation apps I never actually use. This is just my otaku brain going into overdrive again, imagining the most dramatic possibilities. Louis probably has a business meeting. Or maybe we're picking someone up.

But the voice in my head won't shut up. What if he's actually taking you to Russia? Siberia even? As punishment for snooping around his apartment?

I glance at Louis, still seemingly asleep beside me. His face is perfectly calm, betraying nothing. The red-haired driver keeps her eyes fixed on the road, following those terrifying airport signs without hesitation.

You're being stupid, I tell myself. He wouldn't... would he?

My fingers find the hem of my dress, twisting the fabric nervously. I should have told someone where I was going. But then again, I don't even know where I'm going. And who would I tell? It's not like I have any friends who'd notice I was missing.

The airport signs get bigger, more frequent. Each one makes my stomach twist tighter.

I feel my whole body relax as we drive past the airport entrance, relief flooding through me. Of course we weren't going to the airport, you idiot. What were you even thinking?

I sink back into the leather seat, embarrassed by my wild imagination. Here I was, crafting entire dark manga plotlines in my head about being trafficked abroad, when I don't even have a passport. I almost want to laugh at myself. No high schooler, no matter how rich or mysterious, would just randomly decide to fly someone to another country. Even Louis isn't that dramatic.

Though... he did break into my apartment. Twice. And he does have a driver who looks like she could be in the yakuza. And that whole thing with the disguise earlier...

Stop it, Shizuka. You're doing it again.

I peek at Louis from the corner of my eye. He's still "sleeping," though I'm not entirely convinced he actually is. His breathing is too even, too controlled. But maybe that's just another product of my overactive imagination. I really need to stop reading so much manga - it's clearly rotting my brain.

The car continues past the airport, heading deeper into the countryside. The tight knot in my stomach has loosened, but there's still this nagging feeling that won't go away. I might not be getting shipped off to Siberia, but I still have no idea where we're actually going.

The car veers suddenly, turning onto a narrow dirt road that cuts between dense trees. My heart, which had just started to calm down, kicks into overdrive again. The smooth pavement gives way to bumpy terrain, each jolt making me grip the door handle tighter.

This is worse. This is so much worse.

Through gaps in the trees, I can still see glimpses of the airport's lights in the distance. They mock me now, those bright beacons of civilization growing smaller and dimmer as we wind deeper into the forest. At least in an airport, there would be people, security cameras, witnesses. But here? The trees press in closer, their branches scraping against the car's windows like desperate fingers.

Please turn around. Please let this be a wrong turn.

I steal another glance at Louis, who hasn't moved an inch despite the rough road. How can he sleep through this? Unless... unless he's not actually sleeping at all. The thought sends a fresh wave of panic through me.

My eyes dart to the red-haired driver, but her expression remains neutral as she navigates the increasingly narrow path. The forest grows thicker around us, shadows deepening as the canopy blocks out more and more sunlight. Each turn takes us further from the airport, further from safety.

I take it back, I think desperately. I'll go to Russia. I'll go anywhere. Just not deeper into these woods.

But the car continues forward, swallowed by the darkness of the forest, and all I can do is watch as those last glimpses of the airport disappear completely behind us.

* * *

The car's tires crunch over gravel and fallen leaves as we wind deeper into the mountain roads. Each curve makes my stomach lurch, but Louis remains perfectly still in his reclined seat, breathing steady and even. Too even.

I grip the door handle tighter, my palm sweaty against the cool metal. Maybe I could tuck and roll out of the car? No, that's ridiculous - I've seen enough action movies to know I'd probably die. Plus, these doors probably have child locks. Rich people think of everything.

What about screaming for help? There might be hikers or... mountain... bears? Okay, scratch that plan. The trees are so thick here, no one would hear me anyway. And the driver looks like she could probably knock me out with one punch.

My next brilliant idea involves pretending to be sick so we have to stop, but knowing my luck, they probably have a doctor on speed dial. Or worse, they might actually be taking me to some creepy forest clinic. My imagination starts spinning wild scenarios about organ harvesting before I force myself to stop.

I take a deep breath and try to think logically. The moment this car stops, I'm making a run for it. I might be clumsy, but I'm small and quick when I need to be. All those years of running away from social situations have to count for something, right?

I study the woods rushing past my window, trying to memorize landmarks - a weirdly shaped tree here, a distinctive rock formation there. If I do manage to escape, I'll need to find my way back to civilization.

The car picks up speed as the road straightens slightly. Louis hasn't moved an inch, his face a perfect mask of peaceful sleep. I keep my hand firmly on the door handle, ready to bolt the second we stop. It's not the most sophisticated plan, but it's the only realistic option I have.

My heart pounds against my ribs as I wait, watching the shadows of branches dance across the dashboard. Just keep driving, I think. The longer we drive, the closer we must be getting to somewhere. And somewhere means people. Witnesses. Safety.

The car finally rolls to a stop, and I immediately yank the door handle. Nothing. I pull harder, my sweaty fingers slipping on the smooth metal. Still nothing. Panic rises in my throat as I realize I'm trapped.

"Hey, it's locked. Don't worry, Alex will open it," Louis says, not even opening his eyes. His casual tone sends ice through my veins. Alex. The driver has a name. Of course she does. And she's apparently the gatekeeper of my freedom.

I force myself to sit still, to look calm even though my heart is trying to escape through my mouth. The seconds stretch like hours as I wait for Alex to circle around to my door. Each click of her heels on the gravel is another beat of terror in my chest.

This is my chance. My only chance. I've spent my whole life running away from things - social situations, club activities, confrontations. For once, that's actually going to be useful.

The door lock clicks. Before Alex can fully open it, I shove past her with all my strength. My feet hit the ground running, and I don't look back. The forest blurs around me as I sprint between trees, branches whipping at my face. I can hear my own ragged breathing, the thunder of my pulse in my ears.

I run like I've never run before, putting everything I have into each desperate stride. My legs burn, my lungs feel like they're on fire, but I keep going. Somewhere behind me, I think I hear voices, but I don't slow down to check.

I burst through the treeline, ready to keep running until my legs give out - but then I skid to a stop, nearly falling over. My breath catches in my throat as I take in the sight before me.

This isn't some creepy murder cabin or secret laboratory. It's... an onsen. And not just any onsen - this place looks like something out of a luxury travel magazine. The traditional wooden gates rise majestically against the mountain backdrop, lanterns swaying gently in the breeze. Steam rises from somewhere beyond the walls, carrying the faint mineral scent of hot springs.

I stand there frozen, my chest still heaving from the run, trying to process what I'm seeing. My legs feel wobbly, partly from exhaustion and partly from embarrassment. What was I thinking? Of course Louis wouldn't...

The hair on the back of my neck prickles. Someone's behind me.

I bolt forward instinctively, but I only manage two steps before I hear his voice.

"Why can't you just be normal for once, damn it?" Louis says, sounding completely done with my antics.

I turn around slowly, my face burning hot enough to rival the onsen springs. He's standing there looking utterly exasperated, his perfect hair slightly disheveled from chasing after me. Even annoyed, he somehow manages to look like he stepped out of a fashion magazine.

My face burns with shame as I stare at my feet, unable to meet Louis's eyes. "I'm so sor-"

"Come on, get inside. We don't have time to waste," he cuts me off, his hands firm on my shoulders as he steers me toward the entrance.

My heart races at his touch, a mix of lingering fear and something else I don't want to analyze too closely. His grip is gentle but insistent, and I let myself be guided forward like a puppet. The wooden boards of the walkway creak beneath our feet, each step echoing my thundering pulse.

I catch glimpses of the luxurious interior through my downturned gaze - polished wood floors, delicate paper screens, tasteful flower arrangements. Everything screams expensive in that understated way that only truly high-end places can manage. The kind of place someone like me would never normally set foot in.

The shame of my attempted escape burns hotter with each step. What was I thinking, running away like some scared animal? Now I probably look even more pathetic in his eyes. A nervous, jumpy mess who can't even handle a simple car ride without freaking out.

I want to apologize again, to explain myself somehow, but my throat feels too tight to speak. Besides, he told me to be normal "for once" - which means he's noticed how weird I am all the other times. That thought makes me want to curl up and disappear.

His hands remain steady on my shoulders, guiding me deeper into the onsen. The air gets warmer and more humid as we walk, carrying the mineral scent of the hot springs. I can hear water somewhere nearby, the gentle sound almost mocking in its serenity after my dramatic forest sprint.

The emptiness of the onsen makes my skin prickle with unease. My footsteps echo against the polished wood floors, the sound bouncing off walls that should be filled with the gentle murmur of other guests. But there's nothing - just silence and steam.

"Where are we exactly?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Louis glances at me, his expression unreadable as always. "Kirishima," he says simply, as if that explains everything.

My eyes widen. Kirishima? The famous hot spring resort? I've only seen it in magazines and travel shows - it's one of the most exclusive spots in all of Kagoshima Prefecture. The kind of place where celebrities and business tycoons come to relax away from prying eyes.

But something's not right. Even for such an exclusive place, it's too quiet. Where are the staff members in their crisp uniforms? The subtle sounds of service that should fill a luxury establishment? The only person I've seen besides Louis is Alex, his chauffeur, who seems to be handling everything from luggage to... well, whatever else needs doing.

I watch as she efficiently moves around us, her movements precise and professional. It's like watching a one-woman hotel staff, which makes absolutely no sense for a place this size and caliber.

The whole situation feels surreal, like I've stepped into some parallel universe where this massive, prestigious onsen exists only for us. The steam curling through the empty halls only adds to the dreamlike quality, making everything feel slightly hazy and unreal.

I want to ask more questions, but the words stick in my throat. Why is it so empty? Why are we here? What's really going on?

I stand frozen in the luxurious bedroom, staring at the carefully folded yukata on the bed. Alex had practically marched me in here, her efficiency somehow both comforting and terrifying. The room is traditional Japanese style but with modern amenities - the kind of place I've only seen in high-end travel magazines.

"Shower's through there," she says, pointing to a sliding door. "Everything you need is already prepared."

The door closes behind her with a soft click, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts. I should be freaking out about being basically kidnapped to a seemingly empty luxury onsen. I should be worried about what Louis is planning. I should be wondering why there's no staff here.

But all I can think is:

Oh my god. Oh my god. OH MY GOD.

I'm at a hot spring. With Louis. Just the two of us (well, and Alex, but she doesn't count). This is literally the hot spring episode! Every good romance manga has one - it's practically mandatory! But they usually come way later in the story, after the characters have gone through some development and built up tension.

My face burns as I sink to my knees, clutching the yukata. We just jumped straight to one of the most important romantic plot points! What about all the build-up? The accidental meetings? The gradual getting-to-know-you phase? The misunderstandings that eventually bring us closer?

You can't just skip to the hot spring episode! That's like... that's like reading the climax before the introduction! The story structure is all wrong!

I bury my face in the soft fabric, trying to calm down. But my mind keeps spinning with possibilities. Will we accidentally bump into each other in the halls? Will there be a mixed bath situation? What if our yukatas get mixed up somehow?

No, no, no! Stop it, brain! This isn't one of your manga fantasies!