Mimori. Stop it. This is ridiculous.
It didn't help.
Her work had slipped. She'd missed deadlines. She'd stayed late. She'd returned on the weekend just to catch up—only to find herself, once again, losing the battle against her own spiraling focus.
"…Fine," she muttered. "Just once more."
She reached for the desk drawer like someone reaching for a habit they hated.
And then—
The office door opened.
Nagisa's voice rang bright and sing-song into the room.
"Mom! Onii-sama brought me for my check-up~"
—!!
For one second, time froze.
Then Mimori exploded.
She kicked back so hard her chair shot away. The chair tipped. She tipped with it. She landed with a thud—and the already precarious wastebasket beside the desk toppled too, spilling its contents.
From the doorway, it looked like Mimori had been swallowed by a small avalanche of embarrassing evidence.
Nagisa stopped mid-step.
"Ah…"
For once, even she didn't know what to say.
Mimori groaned into the mess, hands over her head.
"That hurt…" she muttered, voice muffled with pure suffering. Then she lifted her head enough to glare in their direction. "Nagisa. Why would you come in without warning me first?"
She pushed herself upright slowly, hair slightly disheveled, face tight with the kind of mortification that made a person want to evaporate.
She glanced at the floor, then at the desk, then at the door—did the mental math, and realized there was no hiding this.
Her shoulders dropped.
"…Fine," Mimori sighed. "You're here already. Come in."
She waved them inside like a defeated general.
"And yes, my office is a mess," she added quickly. "Work has been… stressful. Don't comment." Her tone sharpened. "The suite is clean. We'll do the check-up there."
Bokue said nothing—because saying anything would be cruel.
But internally, he did note one thing:
That mess has nothing to do with paperwork.
He simply pretended he didn't know. It was the only survivable path forward.
❁❁❁❁
Mimori led them into the attached suite.
It had originally been designed for VIP patients who needed constant observation—comfortable, private, expensive. Under Mimori's occupation, it had become a "company residence" in everything but name: equipment spilled from the office into the living area, cables crossed the hallway like vines, and medical devices sat beside domestic furniture as if this were normal.
They passed a bathroom, a study, and finally reached the innermost bedroom.
"Come in," Mimori said, switching on the lights.
The room itself was luxurious in design, but lived-in to the point of chaos. The bed was unmade. The sheets looked overdue for laundering. A bin near the bedside was overflowing with tissues.
Bokue glanced once, then carefully didn't glance again.
Mimori walked to the nightstand and picked up a headband-like device connected to a computer—something meant to capture brainwave-like data.
"Same as before," she said briskly, falling back into professional cadence. "Nagisa, lie down. I told you last weekend I'd have the instruments ready for immediate use."
"Ah—wait, Mom."
Nagisa stopped her, hooking Bokue's arm and smiling brightly.
"Onii-sama can separate me and Avrora-chan now."
"Eh?" Mimori blinked.
Then—without skepticism, without hesitation—she set the device down as if the only thing that mattered was the possibility.
She crossed the room fast, grabbed Bokue's hands, and held them to her chest like she was afraid he'd disappear if she let go.
"Really?" she asked, eyes wide with intense hope. "You can do it?"
Bokue shrugged. "I've already done it successfully. Ddraig and Albion."
Mimori's breath caught.
Then she nodded, conviction snapping into place as if she'd been waiting for exactly that line.
"If Bokue-kun says it's possible," she said, smiling in a way that was both relieved and dangerously excited, "then I believe it completely."
She stepped back and gestured at the bed.
"Alright. No delays. Let's do it right now."
❁❁❁❁
The procedure itself didn't require theatrics.
Bokue simply repeated what he'd already done before.
Fifteen minutes later, in the same suite bedroom, Mimori stood at the bedside with a stunned expression, one hand on the keyboard as she monitored the readings.
Two girls lay side by side, asleep peacefully—separate bodies, separate presences.
One was Nagisa.
The other was a golden-haired girl who looked around the same age.
Avrora Florestina—formerly the Fourth Primogenitor's observer.
Mimori whispered, almost reverent.
"I can't believe it… it's real."
She swallowed, eyes scanning the data again.
"Complete separation. Stability is excellent. No loss. No damage."
Bokue tilted his head. "So they're fine?"
"Yes," Mimori said, exhaling hard—relief pouring out of her all at once. "They're completely fine."
Then her expression shifted.
She turned, stepped close, and grabbed Bokue's hands again—this time with unmistakable intent.
"And that means…" Mimori said, voice warming, "we can finally continue the 'check-up' we didn't finish last time."
Bokue blinked once. "Here?"
Mimori smiled sweetly.
"How about in the living room instead?" she suggested—too quickly for someone claiming professionalism.
<><><><><>
~ 70 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon
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