Compared to the original timeline, Utaha had finished her two scripts about half a month ahead of schedule.
Despite lacking passion and motivation, she actually spent less time on them.
Since the quality hadn't dropped, it was clear how hard she must've pushed herself during this period.
Listening to the sound of running water coming from Utaha's room, Akira chuckled and deactivated his enhanced senses.
This feeling of having everything around him under control was indeed pleasant, and it wasn't like he couldn't maintain it for the long term.
But if he did, the noise from his cat, the sounds of people and cars outside, the rustling of falling leaves—all of it would keep disrupting his peace of mind, driving him to the brink of neurosis.
His senses were already sharper than most people's. That was usually enough.
And when something important was about to happen, he'd get that instinctual "gut feeling," and he'd have time to cast a quick fortune if needed.
So he rarely kept his supernatural sensory abilities active—only during battle or for fun.
Like now—for example, to hear whether Utaha could resist the urge to bathe.
And the answer was no—especially not after getting roasted just a while ago.
Which meant, at the very least, today she was back to the "clean and sweet-smelling" standard Akira considered acceptable.
Still, he wasn't planning to do anything today.
Things weren't fully resolved yet.
Utaha had gotten over most of the psychological hurdles, but even if he did go through with it, she'd probably just lie there passively and let it happen. Nothing more.
That kind of lifeless interaction might be a kink to some, but as he always said—certain things should stay as kinks, not become reality.
It just wasn't time yet. A little more seasoning was needed.
Still, some early "acclimation contact" was necessary—and quite useful.
For example, last time with Hayasaka Ai—even after their close moment at the fireworks festival, she was incredibly nervous when things actually got intimate.
Neither of them were the kind of girls looking for cheap thrills, especially back then when Hayasaka Ai was practically a stranger to him.
The fear, unease, and hesitation she must have felt—it was all very complex.
Hayasaka had approached it with a kind of sacrificial mindset.
But things with Utaha were different—they were much closer now, and this time it was her who had asked for repayment. So relatively speaking, she should handle it better.
About half an hour passed. When the timing felt right, Akira went to knock gently on the door of Utaha's room.
It was dead silent inside.
Very interesting.
Akira waited patiently until, finally, a voice came from behind the door—clearly only a thin layer separated them.
"Ogiwara-san, are you in that much of a hurry?"
"Mmhm?" Akira replied with a noncommittal hum.
After another seven or eight seconds of silence, the door opened.
Utaha didn't stand at the doorway. She opened the door and walked back into the room, sitting down at the newly purchased vanity and picking up a hairdryer.
From the mirror, Akira could see her indifferent expression; and she, in turn, could see his amused smile.
That sleepwear had already been worn for two days. After her bath, she had no choice but to put on an old shirt that used to serve as pajamas.
Because of their height difference, Akira's shirt hung long enough to cover even her thighs. At first glance, she wasn't exposing anything inappropriate.
Well, not exactly. It was still a shirt—even if it was a thick autumn-winter one, it didn't fully conceal the curves of her chest.
Once the sound of the hair dryer stopped, Utaha ran her hands through her hair behind her neck, sitting like a puppet at the vanity, and spoke in a flat voice.
"I thought you'd be more of a gentleman, Ogiwara-san."
Akira walked up behind her and looked down her collar from above. Unfortunately, she had buttoned up tightly—no hints of cleavage in sight.
So he asked, "And in your imagination, what kind of person am I?"
"I…"
Utaha suddenly realized she didn't actually know Akira all that well.
The character she had written based on him, and all the impressions that came with it—much of it was just her own speculation.
Just then, her laptop rang with the sound of a video call.
She glanced at it from a distance, unable to make out the name. But Akira did, and said, "Video call. Looks like your revisions are here."
Utaha didn't move. "Clearly, I don't have time to answer that, right?"
"Wrong. Work comes first. Go."
That answer surprised her. She looked up at him, realizing he was serious, and returned to her computer.
Akira took the stool from the vanity and sat behind her.
Utaha hadn't planned to answer the video call anyway. Her plan was to hang up and call back with voice only.
First, because she had just showered.
Second, because this wasn't her own home—it was Akira's.
It wasn't about shame or emotional resistance.
The issue was that anything involving Akira would cause major emotional ripples in Tomoya—and that could disrupt the game's production.
Tomoya had never seen Akira's house, but with the luxurious furniture and spacious room in view, someone as sensitive as Tomoya might easily start asking questions.
She just wanted to finish her part and walk away clean—no drama, no distractions.
But Akira sitting here like this—well, everything changed.
She turned back, a strange expression on her face. "What's this? A declaration of ownership?"
Akira replied, "You were going to take a video call in my house?"
"No… I'll switch to voice."
"Well, then. If I'm not disturbing anyone's work or rest, why should I hide in my own home?"
As he spoke, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind—but didn't make contact yet.
He asked, "Is this okay?"
This almost-embrace left Utaha at a loss. Nervousness, unease, shyness, panic, and anxiety surged through her all at once.
But once she realized Akira might have something more in mind, her expression turned even weirder.
"You're going to tease me while I'm on a call, right?
Enjoy watching me try not to make any suspicious noises while secretly panicking and explaining myself?
Wow. I didn't know you were into that, Ogiwara-san."
"Oh ho? You sure know a lot." Akira laughed cheerfully.
"So back to the question—who exactly am I to you, that you'd assume all this?"
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