I stand paralyzed behind the bathroom door, my fingers white-knuckled against its frame. The sounds from my kitchen—metal against metal, the soft shuffle of movement—heighten my anxiety. My dresser might as well be miles away instead of just across the room. Every drop of water sliding down my back reminds me that I'm wearing nothing but this thin towel.

Desperate, I clench my fists and shout, "Close your eyes, damn it!" My voice cracks, betraying my nerves.

Without waiting for a response, I squeeze my eyes shut (because if I can’t see him, he can’t see me, right?) and dart into the main room. My bare feet slap against the cool floor, sending a shiver up my legs as I sprint toward my closet. I yank the door open so hard it rattles, the familiar smell of old wood and fabric wrapping around me. My hands scramble through fabric until they find something soft—one of my oversized shirts. I clutch it to my chest like armor.

As I spin around to make my escape back to the bathroom, my body freezes mid-turn.

Louis towers over me, his shadow falling across my trembling form. I clutch my clothes tighter, painfully aware of how exposed I am. Water drips from my hair onto the floor, each drop echoing in the silence.

His eyes move over me with clinical detachment, like he's examining a specimen under glass. There’s no hint of embarrassment or desire in his gaze—just that same calculating coldness that terrifies me more than any heated look would.

"I-I need to change," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. I hate how weak I sound, how my body instinctively shrinks away from his presence.

"Was that an order you just gave me?" His voice is low, steady, and somehow even more unnerving than if he’d sounded angry.

My chest tightens, and I grip the shirt tighter. "No, no, sir. I’m sorry," I manage to say, my voice barely audible. "I’m just… embarrassed."

He steps closer, the faint scent of cologne mixed with something metallic filling the space between us. His fingers brush my chin, cool against my flushed skin, as he tilts my face up to meet his gaze.

"Is that how people talk to each other?" His tone is deceptively soft, but his eyes betray nothing—no anger, no humor, just a chilling neutrality.

Shivers run down my spine as I stammer out, "No, sir. I’m sorry."

"Good." He releases my chin, his touch lingering for a fraction of a second too long. "Now give it another try."

"I need to get dressed. Could you please let me go to the bathroom, sir?" I whisper, the words tumbling out in a shaky breath.

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. "But of course, Shizuka. Go ahead." He steps aside with a mocking bow, his hand gesturing toward the bathroom in an exaggerated flourish.

My legs feel like jelly as I shuffle past him, muttering, "Thank you," without meeting his gaze. The rough edges of the shirt dig into my arms as I retreat to the bathroom.

Once inside, I press my back against the door, my damp hair dripping cold water down my neck. My heart's still racing from that encounter, and I can’t stop my hands from shaking as I clutch my clothes tighter. The way he looked at me… it wasn’t like some pervy manga scene. His eyes were just… empty. Like I wasn’t even a person to him.

I hug the shirt closer, trying to calm my breathing. That mocking little bow he gave me keeps replaying in my head, along with that split-second smirk that disappeared so fast I’m not even sure I saw it.

"This isn’t some romantic manga moment," I mutter under my breath, sliding down to sit on the cool tiles. "If it is, it’s the kind where the heroine ends up in therapy."

I quickly change into my most comfortable clothes - an oversized anime t-shirt and some shorts. My hands are still trembling as I fold the towel, taking longer than necessary just to delay facing him again. But I can't hide in here forever.

When I finally step out, Louis is setting my small table with actual plates and utensils. It looks so fancy compared to how I usually eat - straight from the convenience store container while reading manga.

"Come eat," he calls out, his voice neutral.

I shuffle over and sit down across from him, trying to make myself as small as possible. My shoulders are practically touching my ears, and I can't stop fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

"Hey, relax. You're having dinner in your own home. I don't get you. Don't you have an off button for all your quirkiness?" he asks.

"Eh, uhmm, I'm sorry. I just... This is the first time that I've been alone in a house with a man other than my father," I admit, my eyes fixed firmly on the table.

"Ughhh... What can I do so that you feel more relaxed? Because you're extremely hard to deal with. You're a ball of nerves and awkwardness. The awkwardness I can deal with, but the nerves have got to go," he says. His voice is still cold, but something in his eyes seems different - almost warm? Or am I just seeing what I want to see?

"Oh... I'm... I'm flattered that... but I'm not sure how... I'm sorry... I'm the worst. I'm always jumpy, and I don't know how to act around people, especially... you," I stammer, twirling a strand of damp hair around my finger and avoiding his gaze.

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"Hm, I understand. Let's eat before it gets cold," he says and starts eating.

That's it? He just dropped it? I think to myself before quickly clasping my hands together. "Thank you for the food."

We eat in complete silence after that, the only sound the quiet clink of chopsticks against plates.

I can't help the smile spreading across my face as I take another bite. The curry is perfect - rich and complex with just the right amount of spice. Each ingredient is cooked to perfection, the vegetables tender but not mushy, the meat practically melting in my mouth. It's leagues better than my usual convenience store dinners.

When I glance up, Louis catches my expression and raises an eyebrow. I quickly look back down at my plate, embarrassed at being caught enjoying it so much, but I can't stop myself from taking another eager bite.

After we finish, Louis stands and gathers the dishes. I jump up to help, but he waves me off.

"Just stay there and relax," he says, already turning toward the kitchen area.

I fidget in my seat as I watch him methodically clean each dish. His movements are precise and efficient, like everything else he does. The sound of running water and clinking plates fills the small apartment.

When he finishes, he returns to his seat across from me. His face is back to that unnervingly neutral expression as he asks, "So, Miss Shizuka Tanaka, what do you have for me?"

"Oh! Yes!" I straighten up, suddenly remembering my discovery. My earlier nervousness evaporates as excitement takes over. "There's this girl in Class 1-A, I think. She's super hot, but in a classy, nerdy way, and she fits most of the characteristics. She seems to be a loner. I found her at the library reading advanced books after school, so I guess she didn't join any clubs. Also, she doesn't seem to talk much with people at school. She keeps to herself—"

"Reina Hayasaka, you mean, right?" Louis cuts me off.

I blink in surprise, my mouth hanging open slightly. How did he know exactly who I meant from just that brief description? My confusion must show on my face because he adds, "Is it really that surprising that I'd memorize every potentially intriguing person for my project?"

A small smirk tugs at my lips before I can stop it. "Well, of course you would."

"Keep going," he prompts, and I launch back into my explanation.

"I know Reina isn't a perfect match to Kaguya, but she's the closest to her general description at school. So, I think we can rework the script around her. I think that would actually make it much better than TW, which is honestly so mid," I say, then freeze as I realize what just slipped out.

Oh damn, he's a TW fanatic, and I just told him it's mid. I'm done for, I think, my earlier confidence crumbling as worry sets in.

I wait nervously for Louis to react to my criticism of TW, but his face remains perfectly neutral. After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.

"Good job. You did your part well."

My heart skips a beat and warmth floods my cheeks. I can feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. Oh my god, he actually praised me! My chest feels like it might burst.

"You'll go with my idea, then? I'm so happy!" I blurt out, unable to contain my excitement.

"Yeah, no, I'm not," he says flatly, crushing my hopes in an instant. "Well, not exactly. I won't be changing anything for Twilight Blossoms. I'm going to keep it as faithful as possible."

He's still not looking at me, lost in his own thoughts. I deflate a little, confused by this response after his praise.

"I understand, but how can you do that? It's not like we can just take what we like about Reina and then change what we don't," I say, trying to make sense of his logic.

"That's exactly what we'll be doing, actually," he responds, his voice taking on that clinical tone again. "Humans are creatures of habit. Everything that makes up one's personality is a habit they picked up based on external factors." He finally turns to look at me directly. "What turned you into an Otaku?"

I stand there frozen, my mind reeling from Louis's words. His analysis cuts deeper than any manga villain's monologue ever could, because... he's right. About everything.

"Hey, I asked you a question."

I jump, startled out of my thoughts. "Ah, yes. What turned me into such an otaku, huh? I don't know, actually. I think I just like it, you know? It speaks to me," I stammer, trying to keep my voice steady. The last thing I want is to upset him further.

"You're from Yakushima Island, right?" he asks, his tone shifting slightly.

"Yes, I am. I spent my whole life there until last year when I came here to study in high school."

Then he starts his lecture, breaking down my entire existence like he's dissecting a specimen in biology class. Each word hits like a precise cut, laying bare truths I've never wanted to face. The suffocating smallness of island life, how everyone knew everything about everyone else, the weight of expectations...

He describes my childhood isolation with surgical accuracy - the lack of friends, staying inside instead of exploring the island's beauty. And manga... how it became my escape, my window to a different life. But according to him, even that wasn't really my choice. I was just... programmed to fall for it, being the perfect target audience.

The way he says it all, so calm and matter-of-fact, somehow makes it worse. There's no cruelty in his voice, no intention to hurt - just cold, clinical observation.

I stand there in silence, unable to form words. What can you say when someone strips away all your illusions about yourself?

"Don't get me wrong, none of this is bad—that's how the world works," Louis continues, his voice steady and emotionless. "I'm just letting you know because that's exactly how we'll proceed with Reina: by changing some external factors in her life, making her respond to different stimuli, and making her react in the way Kaguya would—perfect for the charming transfer student to jump in at the right moment."

I can't find my voice. My throat feels tight, and my hands are trembling again. The way he talks about manipulating Reina's life... it's like he's discussing changing the settings in a video game, not messing with a real person's existence.

Was he serious? This is insane! Even if he was, there's no way this is possible. Change someone that much without them realizing? Impossible, right? Right?

But then I remember how perfectly he broke down my own development, how easily he explained every choice I'd made. If he could understand all that, maybe he really could...

No. I shake my head slightly, trying to clear these thoughts. This isn't some manga where you can just rewrite someone's character arc. This is real life.

Yet I stay silent, unable to voice any of these concerns. The words stick in my throat as I stare at his unnervingly calm face.

"Anyway, gather your things so we don't lose any more time."

My brain short-circuits. "My things?" I stare at him blankly, trying to process what he just said. Time for what? Where are we going?

Louis lets out an exasperated sigh, his perfect features twisting into a look of annoyance. "Uhh, gather your things. We're leaving. You're spending the weekend with me, and it's not optional," he says, his tone making it clear he won't accept any arguments.

My mind goes into complete meltdown mode. The weekend? With Louis? WHERE? HOW?