After yet another fruitless brainstorming session with Abiko, Ruby Kitagawa still hadn't come up with a birthday gift she was satisfied with. Sullen, she hitched a ride home with Abiko's father.
When she finally clambered up the stairs, unlocked the door with her key, and mumbled a half-hearted "I'm home," she noticed something unusual—three half-drunk cups of tea on the living room table. Someone had visited.
"Wash up, dinner's almost ready," Ryo called from the kitchen, poking his head out casually.
"Brother, did we have guests?" Ruby asked as she swapped her shoes for slippers, padding into the kitchen.
"Just some folks from Morinaga. Oh, they left a new plushie for you—it's on the sofa. Wanna check it out first?"
"Ooh."
Ruby hadn't expected she'd be the one getting a gift today. She hurried back to the living room and found an elegantly wrapped box. Snipping the ribbon, she discovered a handwritten postcard and a large plush lamb inside.
After skimming the note, she tossed it aside and hugged the lamb, dashing back to the kitchen.
"Brother, is this a new product? It's adorable!"
"Yep, tentatively named Milk Lamb. If you like it, you can try the new flavor when it launches. The first three were hits, but it's been years."
"Orange Bear will always be my favorite!" Ruby declared before scampering off again.
The original three plushies Morinaga had gifted Ryo still had their roles: Orange Bear sat faithfully on Ruby's bedside as her nightly cuddle buddy, while Strawberry Rabbit served as Ai Hoshino's personal cushion whenever she visited, always commandeering the pink bunny to the sofa's corner.
As for the neglected Watermelon Cat? It languished in the closet, only seeing daylight during Ryo's seasonal plushie laundry rotations.
Thanks to upgraded craftsmanship (and Morinaga's eagerness to impress Ryo), the new Milk Lamb was noticeably larger. Ruby adored its snowy fluff, but if she added it to her bed, she'd have no room left to sleep. So, after some thought, she propped it against the sofa as a backrest before obediently washing up for dinner.
While clearing the tea cups, though, something felt… off.
One cup was completely empty—not a single drop left.
Were they that thirsty?
As she dumped the tea leaves into the trash, Ruby frowned. Even the leaves in that spotless cup seemed suspiciously sparse.
Meanwhile, in a nearby apartment…
Issugi Rina had embedded a wireless pinhole camera inside the plushie. To ensure smooth surveillance, she'd even rented a place close to Ryo's home.
Most sasaeng fans—those who obsessively invade celebrities' private lives—came from wealthy backgrounds. After all, stalking stars required both money and time. Some would book every room in a hotel just to sneak photos of their idol.
But after a full day of spying, Issugi was disappointed. The plushie's placement in the living room meant limited footage—ironically, Ruby appeared on camera more often than Ryo.
Issugi sipped her tea, brewed from leaves she'd secretly pocketed during her "visit." She'd mixed Ryo's used leaves with her own, steeping them again and again.
With every sip, she relived the moment Ryo's slender fingers had scooped those very leaves from their tin, pouring hot water into her cup. In her mind, their essences had merged—through this tea, they were now one.
Still, her mission wasn't a total loss.
By eavesdropping, she'd pieced together the siblings' daily routines.
In other words: she'd found her window to break in.
Two days later, persistence paid off. Spotting an unlocked window (left unlatched by Ruby), Issugi climbed into the Kitagawa home.
It was reckless, but fear didn't register. To her, this was a pilgrimage.
After replacing the camera's battery, she beelined to Ryo's room.
Like an explorer stumbling upon treasure, Issugi trembled as she rummaged through his closet, finally selecting a short-sleeved shirt.
When she emerged, it was the only thing she wore—the hem barely grazing her thighs.
In her hand? A popsicle stick salvaged from Ryo's trash.
She slid it between her lips. Though flavorless, her brain conjured sweetness beyond oranges, watermelons, or strawberries.
Her tongue traced its ridges as heat pooled low in her belly, molten and insistent.
Craving more—or perhaps relief—she retreated to the bathtub.
Unbeknownst to her, another observer lurked.
"Thought I'd catch a secret girlfriend, but it's just a sasaeng?" muttered Tanaka the reporter, lowering his camera, disappointed.
[Note: Sasaeng means is the South Korean term for an obsessive fan who invades the privacy of Korean idols, drama actors, or other public figures in the entertainment industry.]
Still, any scoop on Ryo Kitagawa was lucrative.
Might as well run the story.