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384 Thank You for Liking Kyousuke
🕑 Added 2025-07-17 15:00:16 +0000 UTCThough this body had never tasted alcohol, Kyousuke in his previous life had his fair share of drinking.
Whiskey was one of the few alcohol he could actually say he liked—though “liked” was a relative term.
It was more palatable compared to the other odd-tasting liquors he'd tried.
The sweet aroma of honey and vanilla hit his nose first.
The first sip was sharp, tingling on his tongue, but that sensation quickly gave way to the mellow sweetness of malt sugar.
Other than the fact it couldn't double his happiness the way cola could, drinking whiskey really wasn’t much harder than drinking water for him.
Still, it didn’t quite have the joy and ease of sipping on a fizzy Coke.
If he weren’t trying to take these guys down in one fell swoop, he would’ve gone with whiskey mixed with soda or some other soft drink.
But right now?
Watching Miyamizu Toshiki and the others grit their teeth and down shot after shot, Kyousuke felt a deep sense of satisfaction—as if he were enjoying a fizzy drink himself.
Even without a single bite of food, just watching their expressions was enough to make him feel like he could drink ten bottles.
"Ice water! Ice water! I once learned an amazing recipe during a trip to the countryside from an old man who ran an izakaya for seventy years. Hojou, you’ve got to try it!" Osaka Gou forced a pained smile as he spoke.
"Ulong tea! Whiskey's best with oolong tea!" Even Eikichi Onizuka was starting to lose his edge.
He swore to his beloved girlfriend that he was talking about real oolong tea—the kind from Suntory.
Original whiskey with original oolong tea—the perfect combo, boss!
“Where’s the green tea that was here earlier?” Miyamizu Toshiki ducked his head, looking for anything to rinse out the burn.
Meanwhile, the truly clever one—Kisaki Tetta—was focused on stuffing his face with grilled skewers.
Clever, but only slightly.
The real smart one was Hojou Ichirou, who had already begun to snore lightly, passed out in his seat.
Shimomura Tetsuya stared at the sleeping man with pure envy in his eyes.
He wanted nothing more than to collapse too.
But he was sure Akamatsu next to him—or maybe Osaka Gou—would just drag him back up and make him drink again.
‘Why? Why? Why was Hojou Kyousuke such a heavy drinker!?’
He hadn’t even come up with a lie to comfort himself when he saw his glass fill up once again.
Looking up, he saw Kyousuke smiling gently as he went around topping off everyone’s drinks with practiced ease.
And then, that line, that phrase that sounded like the chant of some ancient god came again:
“Grateful for this encounter.”
In that fleeting moment, Shimomura had a strange illusion: the ferryman at the Sanzu River might just call out the same phrase as he rowed the souls of the dead across—
“Grateful for this encounter.”
Kyousuke raised his glass with a serene smile and downed it in one go.
Across the room, Eriri watched him toss back drink after drink with that usual relaxed expression.
Her face was full of smug satisfaction.
But just being happy herself wasn’t enough—she had to lean over to Mitsuha and brag in a whisper.
Miyamizu Mitsuha, seeing her father's face turning redder by the second, could only smile wryly.
She couldn’t very well tell Eriri that everyone was drinking from the same bottle.
If it were real liquor, someone would’ve been out cold by now.
So instead, she put on a look of admiration and said, “I was so worried Kyousuke might get drunk from my dad pushing too hard. Good thing you were here, Eriri.”
“Hmph! That guy’s never even had alcohol before and still tried to act all tough. If I didn’t help him, I’d be the one stuck taking care of him tonight! No way I’m doing that—it’s too much of a pain,” Eriri huffed, nose held high like a blonde princess.
Inwardly, she made a decision: the day after tomorrow, she’d ask her dad to take Kyousuke and Uncle Ichirou out for dinner—and crack open that bottle.
The one Grandpa gave to celebrate her dad becoming a diplomat!
Sitting nearby, Kasumigaoka rolled her eyes.
If that day came, this girl would probably be more eager than anyone—and still manage to be clumsy and make a mess of things.
But still…
‘What would Kyousuke be like if he actually got drunk?’
Ugh, why weren’t ward offices open 24 hours a day?
These useless government workers—where did all her taxes go?
Didn’t they know nighttime was when people had their clearest thoughts?
After a long day of work, someone might suddenly realize in the middle of the night that they didn’t want to be alone anymore—and walk straight to the ward office, grab someone’s hand in the dark, and get married on the spot.
Now that would solve Japan’s declining birthrate!
Utaha swore that the moment she gained voting rights, she’d support any politician who promised to lower the legal age for men to marry and extend government office hours.
No—why wait? Why not support someone directly?
Her family had the influence anyway…
Lost in these ridiculous wedding fantasies, she didn’t even hear someone calling her until Mitsuha gave her a little nudge.
Snapping out of her thoughts, she turned to see Aunt Mikiko smiling and beckoning her over.
A trace of panic crossed her face.
Kasumigaoka quickly stood up and shuffled over, bowing slightly as she sat down next to Kyousuke’s mother.
“What were you thinking about so intently, Utaha-chan?” Hojou Mikiko asked with a chuckle.
“N-Nothing important… just some small stuff,” Utaha mumbled.
She couldn’t exactly say she had been planning to marry Kyousuke while he was drunk and his parents were conveniently out of town
—only to remember that men had to be at least 18 to get married and the ward office wasn’t open at night.
“Hm? Why’re you suddenly so flustered?” Mikiko asked curiously.
“She’s probably thinking of something totally inappropriate~” Yamauchi Sakura butted in with a teasing grin.
“I-I wasn’t!” Utaha blurted out, clearly flustered.
“Oh! It’s here! The Secret Art: Mind and Body Switch Technique! Trigger condition: Eriri not present. Effect: Completely transforms into Eriri—from tone to facial expressions!” Sakura whispered dramatically.
“Ahahaha~” Both moms burst out laughing, while Utaha’s face slowly turned bright red.
After the laughter died down, Mikiko gently tugged Utaha closer and lowered her voice.
“Utaha.”
“…Yes?” Her heart skipped a beat—she had a feeling she knew what was coming.
“Thank you for the gift you prepared for Kyousuke,” Mikiko said softly.
“Y-You don’t have to thank me. I just… I hope you don’t think I was being too nosy…”
Utaha hadn’t expected such a sincere thank-you from Kyousuke’s mother.
She was caught completely off guard.
After all, everything she’d done—reaching out to Kyousuke’s parents, contacting his friends—it was all just for his sake.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have invited even people like Okudera Miki.
She didn’t really want to admit it, but if even one of them had been missing, Kyousuke would’ve felt disappointed.
Utaha was the kind of girl who always thought of Kyousuke first.
“You’re a good girl,” Mikiko said, placing her hand gently over Utaha’s. Her voice was warm and kind.
“Kyousuke’s always been a strong and sensible child.”
“…”
Utaha said nothing.
She knew Mikiko wasn’t finished speaking yet. So she just lowered her eyes and listened quietly.
“Maybe it’s a little boastful coming from his mother,” Mikiko said with a soft sigh, “but… sometimes he’s so mature it hurts my heart.”
Utaha looked up in surprise, gazing at the woman beside her.
“Not even once. I’ve never seen that child cry… and he’s never talked to me about anything that troubled him.”
“…He’s never cried?” Utaha’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Yes,” Mikiko said softly, “Even when he ate my terrible cooking, he would still give me a big smile and a thumbs-up, saying it was delicious.
When he scraped his knee and bled, he would pretend it didn’t hurt, comfort me while he patched himself up.
When he was bullied at school, he handled it quietly on his own—bruised and battered, asking only Sakura to help apply ointment…”
Utaha listened quietly as Mikiko shared stories from Kyousuke’s childhood.
With every word, the image of that boy in her heart became clearer, more complete.
Oddly enough, even though Mikiko was clearly talking about her son, her hands gently stroking Utaha’s made it feel… warmer.
“No matter what happened back then, Kyousuke was still within my sight. I could tell how bad his scrapes really were.
I could show him that I loved him—that if he ever got tired of being ‘mature,’ all he had to do was call out ‘Mom’ and I’d be there to protect him.”
She chuckled a little, her voice tinged with both pride and guilt.
“It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but all these years, I’ve been the one looking after him. I know I’ve made mistakes… I haven’t always done the best job—”
“No!” Utaha cut in, her voice soft but firm. “Kyousuke would never think that way.”
She knew how much a person’s upbringing shaped them, and just by looking at who Kyousuke was now, it was obvious Mikiko had done a wonderful job as a mother.
Mikiko smiled gently, not refuting her. “But Kyousuke… he was always meant to leave my arms and go do something great.”
She turned to look at her son—his face glowing with energy as he raised another toast.
That scene gave her the strength to continue.
“He left Suimon City and came to Tokyo all on his own. He studies alone, eats alone, lives alone…”
Her voice lowered slightly, tinged with sadness.
“He left my sight. I can no longer tell if he’s really okay after a fall, or if he’s been hurt by someone again. I don’t know if he’s eating enough. I don’t know if he’s made any real friends at school.”
Utaha listened in silence, her heart warm.
Of course Mikiko knew how strong her son was. But she was still a mother.
A mother who worried, who cared deeply, who loved unconditionally.
‘Maybe I’ll be like this one day too,’ Utaha thought.
‘Worried, protective… maybe even hiring a hundred bodyguards for the kids Kyousuke and I will raise.’
With that ridiculous but sweet thought, her anxious heart finally settled, replaced by a quiet sense of joy and anticipation.
“I always worry…” Mikiko went on, “I worry that this unfriendly world won’t care for him the way I did. That it won’t love him unconditionally. That he’ll be hurt again…”
She gently cupped Utaha’s hands in hers.
When the girl looked up, Mikiko was gazing directly into her sharp, wine-red eyes with a tenderness that melted the distance between them.
“But now,” she whispered, “now I know… even if I’m not beside him, there’s someone who loves him.
Someone who truly cares for him, watches over him, and wraps him in the kind of love that gives him the strength to face a cruel world without fear.”
Then she reached up and softly stroked Utaha’s hair.
“Utaha-chan, thank you… for protecting Kyousuke.”
“I…” Utaha opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat.
She swallowed once, then finally managed to say, barely above a whisper:
“Kyousuke would do the same for me.”
That response made Mikiko pause, surprised.
She’d expected something more formal, more polite—like “It’s the least I could do.”
But instead, Utaha had answered in the most honest, heartfelt way possible.
Mikiko’s smile deepened.
‘Yes,’ she thought.
‘My son loves them, and they love him. What could be better than that?’
“Ah~ I’m so happy right now. I wish I could have a drink!” she suddenly groaned, grumbling a little. “Honestly, if Ichirou didn’t want to drink, he should’ve stayed here and taken care of me. I would’ve gone and joined the others!”
Utaha was still lost in emotion, her heart stirred by the overwhelming love this mother had just shown. It made her think of her own parents.
She really should have brought them here tonight.
That way her father could be drinking with Kyousuke too…
Looking at Mikiko, so youthful and lively despite already raising two children, Utaha realized something with sudden clarity:
You could tell, just by looking, whether someone was loved.
Just like Kyousuke.
Like Shouko, Eriri… even herself.
And in contrast, you could also tell when someone wasn’t loved.
When someone had grown up braving everything alone. Like…
She couldn’t say the name.
That would be rude—even for her.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t really about manners.
The truth was, her heart felt too full, too happy to be mean to anyone.
She even found herself feeling a little sorry for Yukinoshita.
She had been worried for so long that Kyousuke’s mother might dislike her because of what she’d done to Ishida Hidenori.
After all, what kind of mother would want a dark, scheming girl as her son’s future bride?
Even though Ichirou’s actions later reassured her a little, there was always that lingering anxiety.
But now? Not only did Kyousuke’s mother not blame her…
She thanked her.
‘Ahhh I’m so happy! I want to drink! I want to get drunk with Kyousuke and do silly things together while tipsy!’
“Aunt Mikiko, actually…” Utaha began, hesitating.
Her eyes flicked to the left as she considered whether to say what was on her mind.
“Hm? What is it?” Mikiko asked, beaming warmly.
Though she always tried to treat all her potential daughters-in-law fairly, she couldn’t deny it—after tonight, Utaha’s place in her heart had grown significantly.
Who wouldn’t like a girl who protected their son so fiercely?
Sure, she might be a little ruthless, a little manipulative—but that was only when dealing with people who meant harm to her son.
What mother wouldn’t want a daughter-in-law like that?
Seeing Mikiko’s gentle expression, Utaha steeled her resolve.
If throwing Eriri under the bus would bring her closer to Kyousuke’s mom… well, sorry, Eriri.
“Actually… Eriri’s really great with kids. Ever since she met Kasuko, she’s been missing her nonstop. She’s mentioned several times how she wants Kyousuke to take her to Hokkaido to see her again.”
Driven by guilt, Utaha forced herself to say a few kind words on the blonde’s behalf.
“Ah? Hahaha~ Is that so?” Mikiko blinked in surprise, then laughed as she gave Utaha a knowing look.
“Even so, that’s a no-go. A mother can’t hand off her child just for a moment of fun.”
“Oh…” Utaha lowered her head.
She knew it wasn’t going to work, but Eriri really did love kids, so she thought it was worth a shot.
Even though she hadn’t had a drop of alcohol, Mikiko already seemed drunk—drunk on the love and laughter around her.
As Kyousuke’s mother, the gazes of all these wonderful girls landed on her as a matter of course.
Every “Aunt Mikiko~” they called out in their sweet, cheerful voices made her heart swell with joy.
“Novelist, shrine maiden, artist, voice actress…” she murmured to herself, scanning the circle of girls around her, moving clockwise.
“Chef, teacher, fashion designer…”
Then she reached the Yukinoshita sisters.
She hesitated.
And skipped them.
Instead, she looked toward Yamauchi Sakura.
“Uhh…”
Even Hojou Mikiko didn’t know what to say at that moment.
“Foodie!” Sakura raised her finger proudly and pointed to her nose, bursting into laughter.
“Hahaha, yes! Little Sakura’s always been a foodie.”
She really had been.
Back then, any dish Kyousuke made—he’d always taste it first himself, then offer it to Mikiko, and only after confirming it was truly good would he use it to tempt Sakura.
That kind of person… was someone born to be loved.
Utaha rolled her eyes, thinking to herself that Sakura’s future child would likely be a little copy of her—always running off to learn some new skill from other aunties, only to drag a bunch of kids home to sneak snacks afterward.
But looking at Yamauchi Sakura’s bright, cloudless smile and those radiant amber eyes, Utaha couldn’t deny it: even among those obviously loved by the world, some people just seemed to receive a bit more of that love.
A tiny pang of frustration bubbled up in her heart, but she quickly shook it off.
‘Kids who grow up with less pampering often achieve more,’ she reminded herself.
‘Whatever I want, I’ll earn it on my own!’
Whether it was with Kyousuke or with Aunt Mikiko—she was going to be number one, every time!
With that thought, her plans fell perfectly into place.
Tomorrow, she'd ask her dad to invite Kyousuke’s father over for dinner.
Meanwhile, she'd take Aunt Mikiko and little Kasuko to the amusement park—or maybe shopping!
As Sakura cheerfully chatted with Aunt Mikiko about Kyousuke’s latest food experiment, she silently vowed to steer the conversation far away from anything about her own parents.
If her mom saw Aunt Mikiko again, she’d definitely start crying, and then Mikiko would follow, sobbing just as hard.
Those two always cried together watching dramas when they were younger.
Thankfully, she’d grown up with Kyousuke by her side—otherwise, she might’ve become a crybaby too.
Still… drinking together, huh?
Yeah.
One day, she was definitely going to have a proper drinking party with Kyousuke.
Beer, wine, whiskey, brandy, vodka, sherry—bring it all on!
Empty bottles littered the floor now, joined by discarded ice buckets and soda cans.
After much coaxing, Kyousuke had finally agreed to let the others mix their drinks.
But he himself still drank everything straight.
While the rest were sipping diluted whiskey-coke or oolong-whiskey, Kyousuke was still downing full glasses of pure whiskey.
Naturally, that reignited everyone’s competitive spirit.
How could one man be so untouchable?!
‘No way we're letting this guy walk away victorious!’
With that fire in their bellies, everyone who had just been pretending to pass out suddenly rallied again, grabbing their glasses and shouting “To new friends!” at the top of their lungs—loudest among them was Miyamizu Toshiki.
Kyousuke welcomed each toast with open arms.
Even when someone tried to sabotage him with strange cocktail combos, he fearlessly chugged them all.
To him, a bit of alcohol was nothing. His body was battle-hardened from years of training.
He scoffed inwardly.
‘What’s alcohol compared to "temptation"? That’s the real test of will. I’ve never heard of oolong tea ruining a man.’
Watching the guests drop one by one, he finally saw Mitsuha’s dad slump forward and mumble one last “To new friends…” before faceplanting onto the table.
Satisfied, Kyousuke smiled. Mission "Impress the Future In-Laws"—complete.
He had been holding back, just a little.
Even Onizuka and the others had long since passed out on the floor.
That this old man lasted this long was honestly impressive.
Surrounded by fallen warriors, Kyousuke raised a cold cola to his lips, feeling triumphant—until a ridiculous thought smacked him like a cold slap to the face.
‘What am I doing? All these passed-out people are guys! If they were cute girls instead, then I could feel heroic.’
“Kisaki, still awake?” he asked, biting into a now-cold skewer of grilled chicken breast.
“Yes, sir. Need something?” Kisaki replied, popping up from where he’d been using Onizuka as a pillow. He looked tipsy, but still coherent.
“Shiha’s already booked the hotel. Call the driver and start moving these people out.”
“Understood,” Kisaki said with a sharp nod, but hesitated, glancing at both Hojou Ichirou and Miyamizu Toshiki.
“I’ll take Miyamizu-san personally. My dad, though…”
Kyousuke looked over at his father and suddenly grinned.
“Oh! Uncle Uchiumi, Aunt Tamai—you just got here!”
Hearing this, Ichirou jolted upright and, with lightning speed, fixed his hair and straightened his clothes, putting on a mock-scolding face.
“Uchiumi, you rascal…”
But as he looked around, he realized—no Uchiumi, no Tamai.
“Kyousuke, you little—!”
Kisaki understood immediately. To save his boss’s dad some face, he hurried out to call the drivers.
Just as Kyousuke was bracing for a playful scolding, two new arrivals walked in: Yōsuke Uchiumi and Yuko Tamai—the very colleagues who co-founded the law firm with his father.
Yes, Kyousuke had heard them coming up the stairs.
This whole place was booked for their party—only invited guests would be showing up.
“Uchiumi! What took you so long?!” Ichirou switched targets in a flash. If only you’d arrived earlier, I wouldn’t have had to fake my own defeat!
“You think I’m as free as you? I left a major case hanging just to be here,” Uchiumi grumbled, punching his old friend lightly on the arm before turning to Kyousuke.
“Wow! Kyousuke, huh? All grown up and solid. Join the rugby team when you get to college—I’ll be your personal coach!”
‘Man, this guy talks fast,’ Kyousuke thought, nodding politely.
Meanwhile, Mikiko excitedly pulled Yuko Tamai over to the group of girls, clearly itching to introduce her future daughters-in-law.
Kyousuke wanted to head over and join them, but Ichirou grabbed him again—apparently still needing his son as a prop for more proud-dad boasting.
Soon after, Kisaki returned with five or six burly men in suits, who began carrying the unconscious guests out to waiting cars.
They even picked up the journalists who’d passed out earlier.
Miyamizu Toshiki was also escorted out.
Kyousuke had planned to drive him home personally, but decided it was safer to send him to the hotel instead—didn’t want to trouble Mitsuha with her dad’s hangover.
Once the room had cleared out, Kyousuke looked to Eriri, Shouko, and the rest of the girls.
He could see the fatigue in their eyes.
No need to ask—they’d all head home and sleep.
Among the women, the only ones being sent off were the Yotsuba twins, the Yukinoshita sisters, and Mitsuha.
Aunt Yaeko and Yuzuru were staying overnight at the inn.
His father? Still going strong.
After they finished here, he and his friends were already planning to hit a second round of drinks somewhere else.
Let him go wild.
Out on the streets of Akasaka, sleek black business vans came and went, ferrying the snoring party casualties to their hotels like the city’s own cleanup crew.
Not wanting the girls to ride in those booze-soaked vans, Kyousuke had them take the car Shiha had reserved earlier.
Watching the red tail lights fade down the road, Kyousuke finally let out a breath.
‘Whew. I didn’t even do anything—but somehow, I’m exhausted.’
“Let’s go. I’ll take you all home.”
Kyousuke turned and called over to Yotsuba’s friends and the Yukinoshita sisters.
“Okay~!” the two little girls chirped in unison, hopping into the car with their bags of gifts.
Compared to most people, Kyousuke had a much deeper understanding of what a “gift” meant.
When he was little, his father, Hojou Ichirou, had earned the nickname “The Hojou Who Never Returns Empty-Handed” in Tokyo’s legal circles.
He either came home with a courtroom victory or—on rarer days—with some quirky little item taken off a rival.
Not for voodoo or spiteful purposes, but simply as a gift for his wife and son.
Of course, if he had won the case, the gift would be something a bit fancier.
No matter what, he always came home bearing something.
“Anticipation is something you have to cultivate. When someone always walks through the door with a gift, it’s only natural that you’ll greet them with excitement—and a heartfelt ‘Welcome home,’” he’d once told Kyousuke.
Kyousuke had taken that lesson to heart—and followed it faithfully.
To him, gifts weren’t just gestures of etiquette—they were expressions of thoughtfulness.
So why not use that to help Yotsuba strengthen her friendships?
Even the Yukinoshita sisters were holding small gifts: a best-selling book for Yukino, and a bottle of wine for Haruno.
Once they were in the car, Yukino quietly found a seat by herself.
Kyousuke was about to sit in the front, but Haruno yanked him back to sit beside her.
Just like the first time they met that evening, this boundary-less older sister leaned right in, her slightly flushed hair tips brushing against his cheek and making him squirm a little.
Sniff, sniff, sniff~
Haruno’s face hovered close to Kyousuke’s, her nose twitching as she sniffed audibly.
“Onee-san!” Yukino, clearly exasperated, reached from the back seat and dragged her sister back by the collar.
Seriously, she thought—she’s not even drunk!
“Kyousuke, are you sure you were drinking real alcohol? You barely smell like it at all!” Haruno said, peering into his clear black eyes with disbelief.
“Yup. I’ve got a special magic trick that turns booze into cola.”
He had no intention of explaining his absurd tolerance—some things were better demonstrated than explained.
“Aww, boring. Alcohol’s supposed to be life’s great lubricant. If you’re just immune to it, what’s the fun?”
Haruno muttered lazily, leaning back in her seat.
Her jacket slipped off one shoulder, revealing smooth, pale skin.
“Isn’t taking shortcuts supposed to be a good thing?”
Kyousuke didn’t mind Haruno’s masochistic ‘trial-by-fire’ worldview, but he wasn’t about to give up his right to be a proud slacker.
“And what if there are no shortcuts?” Haruno retorted, sidestepping the point entirely with a textbook red herring. “What then?”
“Then I quit,” Kyousuke replied bluntly.
Haruno blinked—then burst out laughing.
“Ahahaha! Kyousuke, you really are something else. I can’t wait to see what happens when you meet my mom.”
“Why would I have to meet your mom?”
“Because~ you're already on the Yukinoshita family's potential son-in-law list!”
“Well, I’m honored... I guess?”
“See? It’s a golden opportunity! A bright, shining shortcut! Seize it!”
“……”
Meanwhile, Yukino stared out the window, her pale blue eyes reflecting the lights of the city, tuning out their ridiculous banter.
After dropping everyone off, Kyousuke finally returned home.
Standing at the entrance of the brightly lit Ruyi Dorm, he felt all the exhaustion from earlier in the night melt away.
“I’m home!” he called out loudly.
“Welcome home~!” a chorus of voices echoed back from the living room.
Sakura was sprawled over the back of the sofa, her hair damp.
Eriri poked her head out from the kitchen, apron-clad.
Yukari and Miki were also in the kitchen, while Shouko could be seen in the courtyard.
The rest were probably in the bath.
Kyousuke casually placed the bouquet of red tulips he had picked up into a vase.
“Hurry, hurry! Yukari and Miki helped me make hangover soup—it totally works!” Eriri proudly marched over with a steaming bowl.
“But I didn’t really drink that much...” Kyousuke blinked.
“Stop whining and drink!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kyousuke chuckled and took the bowl.
This was what home felt like—those passed-out guys in the hotel had nothing on this.
“No sleeping in tomorrow morning!” Eriri warned before darting up the stairs, her golden ponytail bouncing behind her.
Kyousuke immediately understood her point.
“Kyousuke, blow-dry my hair!” Sakura called out sweetly.
“Kyousuke, I made another kind of hangover soup too,” Miki chimed in.
Only Yukari quietly walked over to take his blazer, smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt as she gently whispered, “Thank you for your hard work.”
———————————————————————
4:00 AM
Kisaki Tetta was jolted awake by the shrill ring of his phone.
Within two seconds, he was fully alert—his mind snapped to clarity.
He scanned his surroundings, took a deep breath, and answered.
The voice on the other end made his expression darken by the second.
He didn’t waste a moment.
Calling the hotel front desk, he requested immediate car service.
When he arrived at Ruyi Dorm’s entrance, he didn’t ring the doorbell or call Kyousuke.
Instead, he stood silently outside, busily making one call after another—handling issue after issue as they came in.
And he kept standing there… until dawn.
