The registration office smelled faintly of polished wood and ink, the kind of quiet that pressed against Yumi's chest in a way she didn't like. Her heart was still hammering from the walk over with Pherrie, his hand brushing hers more times than she cared to admit, each contact sending little jolts up her arm. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, trying to ignore the heat creeping to her cheeks.
"Names?" the teacher asked, glancing between them with mild impatience.
"Pherrie," he replied smoothly, voice confident, leaving no space for hesitation.
"And hers?" the teacher prompted, looking at Yumi.
Her throat went dry. She could feel Pherrie's presence beside her, warm and steady, a quiet pressure that made her want to both flee and melt all at once. "Yu—Yumi," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible.
The teacher nodded. "Pherrie and Yumi, registered. Please take care of each other like a real married couple."
The words hung in the air longer than they should have, and Yumi felt her stomach twist. Real married couple? Her eyes flicked to Pherrie, who smirked knowingly, the corner of his lips tugging upward as if he had just read her mind.
As they left the office, the hallway seemed to shrink around them. Every step together felt exaggerated, their shoulders occasionally brushing, small sparks of friction that made Yumi's heart race. When they reached their room, Yumi froze at the door, suddenly hyper-aware of the shared space. Two beds. Same room. Her pulse jumped in a chaotic rhythm that made her hands tremble slightly.
Pherrie leaned against the doorframe, casual, confident, but there was a glint in his eyes—teasing, almost predatory in a playful way. "Looks like we're stuck together," he said lightly, letting the words hang like a whisper meant only for her.
Yumi's fingers tightened around her bag strap, her ears burning. "Y-Yeah…" she stammered, unable to look him directly in the eye. Every movement he made seemed to brush against her awareness—his shoulder as he moved past her, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air, his presence so close that it felt like gravity had shifted.
From the window, Kai's sharp voice cut through the tension. "Oh, Pherrie, you're meant to be mine! I will win you over her—just wait and watch." His tone was playful, dangerous even, and he gave a smirk before walking away, leaving a faint trail of challenge hanging in the air.
Yumi shivered, part from the sudden chill of the accusation, part from Pherrie's quiet amusement as he watched her reaction.
"You heard that, huh?" Pherrie said softly, stepping closer so their shadows mingled on the floor. "Don't worry. You've got me."
Her breath caught. The casual intimacy of his words, the proximity, the way he didn't move away—it all made her pulse accelerate. She could barely manage a nod, and yet she felt a flutter of anticipation. The room, the beds, the quiet ticking of the clock—they all seemed charged now, vibrating with a tension that made Yumi's heart twist in unfamiliar ways.
Pherrie's smirk deepened. "Guess this means we'll have to take good care of each other, huh?"
Yumi's lips parted in a silent, nervous agreement. She wasn't sure if it was the words, the closeness, or the knowledge that she'd just been officially paired with him—but the effect was the same: her heart thumped, her cheeks burned, and the simple act of standing in the same room felt like stepping into an entirely new world.
And as Kai's words faded behind the walls, Yumi realized she wasn't scared anymore—just acutely, deliciously aware of Pherrie, and the thrilling tension that came with being finally chosen.