There was no celebration or joy.
After sending a message to Tomoya telling him to check his inbox, Utaha climbed into bed under Nanami's watchful eye and fell into a deep sleep.
That night, she slept soundly, deeply, and for quite a while—as if she wanted to bury all the long-standing pressure and fatigue into the darkness of dreams.
When she woke up, it wasn't yet fully bright outside, because Nanami had thoughtfully drawn the curtains before leaving.
And the curtains in Akira's home were of excellent quality to begin with, perfect for a good sleep.
Through the faint light seeping in from the curtain's edges, Utaha could just barely make out the outline of the room.
She stared blankly at the dim space for a while, then slowly became aware of something—
There was another breathing sound nearby.
She suddenly turned her head—and clearly saw a human figure lying beside her under the covers.
The large bed left about fifty centimeters of space between them, which spared her from immediately flipping off the bed in shock due to her vigilance.
She fumbled beside her pillow with small movements, found her phone, and lit up the screen, finally seeing Akira's face.
Though she had half expected it and knew there wasn't really any other possibility, she still let out a small breath of relief when she confirmed it.
Akira frowned slightly, slowly opened his eyes at the light shining on his face, grabbed her phone, turned it around to shine on her, then turned it off and placed it beside the pillow.
And gave the most casual of greetings.
"Morning, Miss Kasumigaoka."
Utaha sighed softly, her tone helpless.
"Alright, morning. Then, Mr. Ogiwara, could you kindly explain why you're lying in my bed?"
"Because little Nanami went to class."
That answer, delivered as casually as saying "apples fall when they ripen," made Utaha's mood grow more complex.
"May I, as a narrow-minded and suspicious woman, ask one more question—what exactly did you do to me while I was asleep?"
Akira rolled over. His voice was a little more awake now, officially shaking off the last of sleep.
And then he said something that made Utaha's blood pressure spike in an instant.
"Are you kidding me? I like girls who are soft, fragrant, and clean. You're a writer who just pulled two all-nighters cranking out a manuscript, took your last bath the afternoon before yesterday, and didn't even wash your face or brush your teeth before bed last night. Why the hell would I do anything to you?"
Writing wasn't a particularly glamorous thing. It never had been.
If you took care of yourself, you could at least maintain a decent image for a day.
But if you stayed laser-focused for two days straight… sorry, there wasn't much dignity left to speak of.
Of course, she wasn't exactly "dirty."
She had just been sitting in a cool room, not sweating at all. From Friday afternoon's bath to Sunday morning wasn't that long.
But it still couldn't stand up to Akira's sharp sarcasm—drawing a clean line between "soft, fragrant, clean girls" and "authors who worked straight through two days and nights."
Utaha took a deep breath. Then she twisted her body, planted her feet firmly against Akira's side, and pushed with all her strength.
With a dull thud, Akira, blanket and all, disappeared off the bed and landed on the floor.
The room fell silent for a moment.
Utaha was basking in satisfaction. Akira, meanwhile, was experiencing the thrill and novelty of being kicked out of bed by a woman for the first time in his life.
In a proper overbearing CEO romance, this was the perfect time to say, "Heh. What an interesting woman."
After a moment, his voice echoed from beneath the bed.
"Miss Kasumigaoka—"
Utaha hugged her knees and responded with fearless confidence, "I'm an author who worked two days and two nights straight, didn't wash my face or brush my teeth last night."
"And are you… planning to go outside looking like that—filthy and a complete mess?"
That one question cornered Utaha completely.
She cautiously reached for her phone and asked, "When is Miss Aoyama coming back?"
"A clever idea," Akira replied,
"but unfortunately, the Sakurasou she used to live in is preparing for a performance at the school festival.
They invited her to participate. So on Sundays—her day off—she'll be rehearsing and coordinating with them after her training ends."
Then, with a voice as if casting a spell, Akira added slowly, "If you need her… you could ask her to come back. Right. Now?"
Utaha couldn't bring herself to do it.
Even though Nanami's burden had lightened compared to before, Utaha still felt that she was extremely busy.
She had finally gotten a day off to do something meaningful with her friends—how could she selfishly interrupt that?
Alright, maybe this situation wasn't completely trivial… but still. This would be a last resort.
Utaha crawled to the edge of the bed and lit her phone again, seeing Akira lying face down on the floor, seemingly unmoving since he was kicked off.
She reached out, patted his back through the blanket—partly to help "soothe his breath," partly to calm her own emotions.
"Please forgive my excessive reaction, Mr. Ogiwara.
Any woman who wakes up to find a man who shouldn't be there in her bed would naturally feel very tense, very afraid.
And if that man also said something extremely insulting, of course he would be kicked off the bed."
At the end, she added cleverly, "If I told Miss Aoyama, I'm sure she'd agree with that. Don't you think?"
Akira let out a soft laugh and replied gently, "I think you're about this close to getting f—ked."
Utaha could no longer calm herself. She withdrew her hand and tried to soothe her nerves instead.
"Hmm… According to our agreement, after repaying the debt, my next step is to return the favor for your care and support, Mr. Ogiwara.
The manuscript hasn't been formally accepted yet, but it's only a matter of time."
She pressed a hand to her chest and said with heartfelt emotion, "If your appetite is good enough, and you don't mind my filthy body… how about right now?"
"No. I do mind. I'm not that desperate yet."
Akira finally stood up, adjusted his pajama pants, and walked over to pull open the curtains.
In an instant, the cool autumn sunlight swept away the darkness.
Utaha raised a hand to shield her eyes, then slowly lowered it, as if seeing sunlight for the first time.
Even though it hurt to keep her eyes open, she tried her best to look outside.
"Although I already said this last night," Akira said, "let me say it again on such a beautiful morning."
He turned around, arms outstretched, wearing a faintly playful smile—just as she had once imagined.
"Congratulations, Miss Kasumigaoka. Congratulations on repaying the debt you owe.
You can hold your head high again. You've regained the dignity to speak to anyone while standing tall. You're once more the respectable—Kasumigaoka Utaha."
She was slightly dazed. Her pupils quickly refocused, and a gradually spreading smile curled at the corners of her lips.
She didn't make a sound, but her shoulders shook with barely contained laughter, looking a bit silly.
"Now that," Akira said as he left the room, "will make ruining you so much more satisfying."
Utaha's smile slowly faded.
Her big eyes filled with a bunch of tiny question marks.
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