Sakiko steadied herself, pushing aside the emotions that had surfaced earlier. She still remembered Kyo's request—boiling water for tea.
Finding Kyo's room wasn't difficult. Her name was neatly written on a small plaque hanging on the door.
The moment Sakiko stepped inside, she realized one thing—this room was different.
Her gaze was immediately drawn to a built-in desk with an unusual modification. What should have been bookshelves had been converted into a water tank. Crystal-clear waves ebbed and flowed, mechanically circulating in a mesmerizing rhythm. Sitting at the desk meant being surrounded by an endless current, as if submerged in the depths of the ocean. Even without looking, the gentle sound of running water filled the space.
And then, there was the second thing.
Against the adjacent wall stood a long, mounted table—transformed into a fully equipped drink station. Neatly arranged were an assortment of brewing tools, tea leaves, coffee beans, sugar, creamer, and an impressive variety of cups and glasses. It was, without a doubt, a miniature bar counter.
Even the decorations played into the theme—wood carvings, bottled ships, delicate floral arrangements. A warm-toned pendant light hung above, casting a soft glow that made the entire space feel like an intimate café or bar.
It took up a lot of space.
In fact, with the bar, desk, bed, and chairs occupying most of the room, there was barely enough space for two people to walk side by side.
Once Sakiko recovered from her initial surprise, she spotted a small, boxy water heater tucked beneath the counter. Pouring in water, she pressed a few buttons and watched as the machine quietly began its work.
That should do it.
After confirming that the heater was functioning, she hesitated for a moment before finally sitting at the water tank desk. Other than the bed, it was the only real seating option.
Her eyes wandered around the room once more.
Had she still been the young lady of the Togawa family, she probably would have simply marveled at how unique Kyo's room was for a third-year middle school student.
But now…
Her first thought was—this setup must've cost a fortune.
Could she ever afford a life like this on her own?
After leaving the Togawa household, Sakiko had quickly learned that without a stable income, her situation would only get worse. Her father's sudden collapse had left them with no financial support, and it was unclear how long that would last.
She had looked into part-time jobs that middle school graduates could take on.
But most of them were unpaid—intended for school-sponsored work experience rather than actual employment. Even the rare paying ones wouldn't be enough to support two people.
Her aristocratic upbringing—her knowledge of etiquette, refined speech, and social graces—was useless in the real world. The only skill she had that held any actual value was piano.
And that was where her best option lay.
If she could find bands that needed a temporary pianist or keyboardist for recording sessions, she might be able to make money that way.
It wasn't just about her own confidence in her abilities.
It was also because—people in bands usually had money.
Even casual, hobbyist bands had enough to afford their own instruments. That alone put them worlds apart from someone like her, who had to think about whether she could afford her next meal.
Of course, she could also try working at a convenience store or other service jobs…
But could someone like her—someone who had never so much as considered working in such a place—actually handle it?
Despite these thoughts, she still hadn't made up her mind about becoming a hired pianist.
Because deep down, her damn pride refused to let her.
People she knew—people from RiNG and CiRCLE—worked in those spaces.
She didn't want them to see how far she had fallen.
As the gentle sounds of flowing water repeated in steady cycles, her mind drifted further and further, yet no matter how much she thought, she couldn't find an answer that satisfied her.
Suddenly, the door swung open, jolting her from her thoughts.
Had that much time already passed?
Kyo had finished her shower and changed into a fresh shirt.
Sakiko glanced at it and immediately recognized it.
It was the same shirt she hadn't been able to button up earlier.
"...So," Kyo began, still wrapped in lingering warmth from the bath, hands on her hips. Her expression carried an eager anticipation.
"What do you think of my room?"
She was clearly waiting for praise—excited, even.
"It's impressive. Feels very professional."
It wasn't just to be polite—Sakiko was genuinely impressed.
"Hmph." Kyo let out a pleased hum, completely unashamed of her pride as she strode over to the bar.
"So, what'll it be? Nothing beats a good drink after a hot shower."
"Thanks, but I don't need—"
Sakiko had tried to refuse.
She had already taken so much from Kyo—her shower, her clothes, her hospitality. She didn't want to keep taking more.
But Kyo acted as though she hadn't heard a word.
In fact, the moment she had asked Sakiko what she wanted to drink, her hands were already moving with practiced ease.
She started by carefully selecting a well-preserved tea brick from a corner of the bar, expertly carving off a portion with a specialized knife. Next, she picked out a clay teapot for brewing and a delicate porcelain tasting cup, warming them first with the boiling water from the heater.
Then came the infusion.
The tea leaves were placed into the pot and rinsed briefly with hot water, allowing them to unfurl and release their essence. This was the awakening of the tea. Once the leaves had properly expanded, the real brewing began. Since the tea was already primed, the steeping time was short—just five to ten seconds before the first pour.
The process wasn't complicated, but Kyo's efficiency made it mesmerizing.
Her movements were swift yet precise, like a well-rehearsed performance, each step flowing seamlessly into the next. It was obvious—she had done this countless times.
As soon as the tea poured from the spout, a rich, mellow fragrance spread through the room, filling the air with warmth. There was something inherently calming about the scent—it wrapped around Sakiko like an invisible embrace, dissolving the last traces of tension in her body.
"This was a little rushed. Normally, I'd take more time to prepare properly," Kyo said, lifting a cup and offering it to Sakiko. "I hope you don't mind a tea that isn't perfect."
Her words were modest, but the confident smile on her face told a different story.
She had no doubts about her skill.
"…Thank you."
It was too late to refuse now.
Sakiko accepted the cup, gazing into the liquid's brilliant reddish-brown hue.
She found herself anticipating the taste.
With a color so rich and an aroma so intoxicating, it was impossible for the flavor to disappoint.
She took a sip.
The first thing she noticed was the texture—smooth and full-bodied, coating her tongue in layers of warmth. A blend of aged, earthy notes and a delicate sweetness unfolded, laced with hints of wood and grain.
It was comforting.
More than that, it was delicious.
The residual chill from earlier melted away instantly, replaced by a deep warmth that spread from her core outward. She exhaled softly, unable to suppress the sigh of relief.
This was, without a doubt, one of the finest teas she had ever tasted.
And that was saying something—after all, the tea she had been served in the Togawa household had come from renowned tea masters.
But as much as she wanted to enjoy the moment, an uneasy thought nagged at her.
A tea this exquisite—both in skill and quality—could not have been cheap.
Just as the thought crossed her mind—
"Miss Sakiko—!"
Kyo suddenly leaned in, closing the distance between them in an instant.
The sudden proximity made Sakiko freeze.
She could see her own reflection in Kyo's ocean-blue eyes.
But this time, those eyes weren't the calm, mirror-like sea she had come to expect.
There was something stirring beneath the surface—an undercurrent of energy, excitement.
"Thinking about unpleasant things while drinking tea will ruin the experience, you know?" Kyo smiled playfully, her voice carrying the lighthearted tone of a bartender teasing a troubled customer.
And then—
She spoke the words that sent Sakiko's thoughts spiraling.
"Don't worry. The tea leaves I used weren't expensive. You can drink without hesitation."
What…?
Her mind went blank.
Had Kyo seen through her?
When?
How?
A flurry of emotions surged within her—discomfort, embarrassment, frustration. The realization that her secret had been so easily unraveled left her feeling exposed.
Had all her efforts to maintain a facade… been laughable from the start?
Her voice came out quieter than she intended.
"When… did you figure it out?"
"I don't actually know what happened to you."
Kyo took another sip of her tea, completely unfazed by the weight of the question.
"But it wasn't hard to guess."
Her voice remained casual, as if she were commenting on the weather.
"At our age, there aren't many things that could push a Togawa daughter into this state."
"And if you've lost your family's protection… then even the smallest problems become big ones."
"Like money."
Sakiko clenched her teeth.
The way Kyo had laid it out so plainly—so effortlessly—made her feel ridiculous.
As if her desperate attempts to hide the truth had been childishly transparent all along.
Her emotions boiled over.
"…And now that you know," she said bitterly, "what do you plan to do?"
"Pity me? Offer your charity to a stray dog like me?"
She was angry.
Angry at Kyo.
Angry at herself.
But Kyo didn't flinch.
Instead—
She simply took the last sip of her tea, licked her lips in satisfaction, and said—
"Hmm… I think I'll finish my drink first."
"After all, tea doesn't taste as good when it gets cold."
Sakiko was stunned.
Her words—sharp, defensive, laced with fury—had landed on something soft.
No retaliation. No pity.
Just an easy, natural enjoyment of the moment.
Kyo had no intention of making a big deal out of anything.
She just wanted to share a good cup of tea.
Silence stretched between them.
Kyo's expectant gaze lingered, waiting.
And in the end—
Sakiko gave in.
She gave up on resisting.
On pride.
On keeping her walls up.
She picked up her cup and drank.
And damn it—
It was still incredible.
Her mind quieted, her nerves settled, her anger dulled into reluctant acceptance.
Kyo had won.
"Damn it," she cursed inwardly, abandoning all decorum.
"How can something taste this good?"
"Well?"
Kyo's voice snapped her back to the present.
Sakiko sighed.
"…It's very good."
The grin on Kyo's face was pure satisfaction.
Sakiko, on the other hand, could only feel helpless.
Kikukawa Kyo was just like water—formless, impossible to grasp.
From the moment they started talking, she had been swept along, never once getting the upper hand.
And even now—
She still didn't understand what Kyo was really thinking.
…But at this point, it didn't matter anymore.
For now—she would just drink her tea.