In the vast mansion, everyone chose their own rooms. The master bedroom, naturally, belonged to Nolan, and he stayed there alone.
When morning came, sunlight filtered through the tall windows. Nolan stretched and let out a deep breath.
"Finally, I slept well," he murmured to himself. "No need to worry about anyone lying beside me. I usually feel restless… but not this time."
Nolan froze. Something shifted under the sheets near his legs. His eyes narrowed—then, in a flash, he threw the covers aside and leapt out of bed.
Three figures lay curled up beneath the sheets. Celia. Linda. Lyra.
"What the—?!" Nolan's voice cracked. "Why are you three in my bed?! Didn't we each pick our own rooms?"
The girls stirred at his outburst, stretching with sleepy yawns.
"Good morning, Master," Celia said softly, rubbing her eyes.
"Good morning, Master," Lyra echoed, her voice lazy with drowsiness.
Nolan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Answer my question."
