The light had not yet touched the stained glass windows when Koharu opened his eyes. Not because she had slept badly. Not because a sound woke her. It was simply that something inside her - a spark ignited the night before - would not allow her to surrender fully to sleep. She sat up in bed as gracefully as she would fold a linen napkin, and looked up at the invisible ceiling of darkness. "Six o'clock." His lips did not utter it, but the hour echoed clearly in his mind. When he got up, the first thing he did was to open his notebook. He had left it ready on the coffee table, with the page already numbered:
Date: "19". Second day. Heading: "Objective" check the truth. Confirm tenderness." Underneath, he had drawn a table: five columns with the names of his companions, and one more, empty, with a question mark. That one was for him, Takashi. She didn't know him. He didn't care to know him. At least that's what he said out loud. But the image painted in words by Sumire, Hanabira and Mireille the day before had struck too deep. And that, in a young girl like Koharu - trained in discipline, strategy and denial of feelings - was unacceptable.
The others were not so quiet. Odette was already walking down the corridors of the south wing, one flower in her hand and a second behind her ear. She said it was to check which one went best with the centrepiece. But his steps were faster than necessary, as if he was afraid of being late for a concert. -I can't imagine him looking so... adorable," she murmured as she passed, glancing sideways at the dining room already set up. Misaki was sitting in front of the mirror, combing one of her braids while the other was already falling perfectly over her shoulder. She was on her tenth repeat. Her eyes were closing. -What if he's even cuter than they said? What if he looks at us with that frown... and then sighs? -he said quietly, addressing no one in particular. -Then we won't talk about it," Koharu replied, entering with his notebook against his chest. -Do you also think that...? -Misaki tried to say, but Koharu sat down without answering. Iria was already in the kitchen, polishing the dishes one by one. But not with her usual efficiency, but with the obsessiveness of an artist preparing for a private gallery. Each plate had to be so clean that she could see herself reflected in it... or perhaps, see someone else reflected in it. Sumire Kanzaki consulted her pocket watch for the fifth time. She always said it was to check the cooking time. But there were still no pots on the fire. -Don't get so excited. He's just a child," she said without looking up. But his eyes were shining. And Koharu noted it down. "Kanzaki" - "emotional contradiction detected."
At 5:50, the dining room was ready. Everything sparkled. The napkins formed cranes. The kettle was not yet steaming, but the hearts of the five young women were. They waited in silence. None of them spoke. Each pretended to do something. Koharu flipped through his notebook as if checking academic notes. Odette was lining up the chair legs for the tenth time. Iria was wiping a cup that was already clean. Misaki looked at her hands, searching for invisible imperfections. Sumire Kanzaki held her watch closed between her fingers, without opening it, as if in that gesture she could freeze time. And then they heard it. The footsteps. Shuffling. Paused. With that irritating rhythm that doesn't seek attention, but gets it all the same. Koharu felt his fingers twitch. "Target," entering the scene.
The door opened unceremoniously. Takashi appeared. His hair was dishevelled in a sloppy but symmetrical way. The dressing gown was not quite closed. His expression was that of someone who hasn't had enough sleep and yet despises the hour. -Breakfast," she said simply. The five maids bowed at the same time. An unrehearsed choreography. And for an instant, time stood still. Koharu noted it, mentally: She didn't say "please". Value: +1 sincerity. -1 protocol. Result: fascinating.
Good morning, young sir - said in unison. Takashi did not reply. He moved towards the chair with exasperating slowness. He sat down. He looked at the table. Then he raised an eyebrow. Just one. -Is that cup upside down? -he asked disdainfully. Iria stepped forward as if launched from a catapult. She turned the cup with pinpoint accuracy. -Sorry... it was an unforgivable mistake. Takashi nodded without looking at her. -It was," he said coolly. And he began to eat his breakfast.
For the next twenty minutes, no breathing was casual. Koharu watched everything. The way he put the bread in his mouth with a resigned gesture. The way he cocked his head to one side as he tasted the tea. The slight frown that appeared - at last! - when he found a crumb out of place.
Real pucker. Confirmed. Result: higher than expected.
Odette put a hand to her chest. Misaki dropped a spoon. Iria held the teapot as if carrying a bomb. And Sumire Kanzaki bit her lower lip, a gesture that in her was tantamount to a scream. When she finished, Takashi stood up without thanks. But he stopped before leaving. -The cup... now it's perfect," he said without turning around. And he left. The five of them were silent. Odette was the first to speak: -I want... another turn. -Me too," Misaki muttered.
Koharu wrote one word in red. "Addictive."
Sumire Kanzaki closed her watch. -Let's not say anything. Let them find out for themselves. Iria smiled. And for the first time, so did Koharu. Just a little longer, it's okay.
But in the corridor, someone had heard that last sentence. In a whisper. And with a restrained laugh. Lisette. The maid from the second group was already organising her counterattack.
"It's fair to say that's not really what happened... it was just the girls letting their imaginations run away with them. For they hadn't even noticed the moment of tension that had only been experienced a few moments before."