Shin's voice made Hitori's whole body go rigid, her heartbeat exploding into overdrive.
She'd been sneaking in that activity, only for the guy she liked to catch on.
Worse, she'd been fantasizing about him the whole time she did it.
Getting called out like this? Hitori felt like an overinflated balloon pierced dead-center—popping in an instant.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about."
Sweat poured down her back, soaking the flimsy nightie until it turned sheer.
Shin caught the sight, and his inner desires surged wildly. This can't go on.
"Hitori, I found a band for you this afternoon. Great vibe in the group."
"You can just jump in—I've got it all set up. Everyone's chill."
Shin drew a deep breath, wrenching his gaze away and steering the topic back on track.
"Really? A band that'd want me?"
"Wait—you didn't get scammed, did you? Those band girls didn't... do anything weird to you, right?"
Hitori panicked, her mind spiraling into nightmare scenarios.
Shin surrounded by a pack of girls, them doing whatever they pleased with him.
She was hypersensitive like that—one tiny detail, and her brain conjured the wildest images.
She scanned him head to toe, nostrils flaring as alarm bells blared in her head.
Oh no. Next he'll say something absurd like, 'If I turned into a caterpillar, would you still love me?'
That'd confirm it—everything had happened, with results to show.
Gah, no way! Shin treated like a plaything by other women? I can't accept that!
Hitori freaked, slamming her hands onto his shoulders.
Their faces drew inches apart. Shin inhaled her faint, clean scent laced with sweat—his pulse kicked up too.
"You're overthinking it. Nothing happened. The band's got a gig coming up, but they're short-handed. You'd fill the gap perfectly."
Shin explained, ruffling her hair before his hand slid to cup her cheek.
"Huh? A gig already? I... suddenly feel sick. Cold sweats all over. Let's talk band stuff later, okay?"
Hitori's face twisted in bitter dread.
A live show? She'd melt the second she hit the stage.
"Hitori, you've gotta step up. Auntie Michiyo's job's on thin ice, and my novel just got axed."
"We might be out of cash soon."
Of course, Shin's adoptive parents wired money steadily, and his savings were stacked from years of grinding.
This was just pressure play—to spark some urgency in her.
"Guitar Hero makes money too."
In the original plot, that account had blown up in a saner world, raking in real cash.
But this world? Screwed. Birth rates plummeting, population in negative growth for years.
Policies threw work perks and subsidies at kid-rearing, but the macro pressure was crushing—raising kids in this matriarchy was brutal.
"Not enough, probably."
Shin shook his head, his warm palm kneading her cheek.
"Come on, Hitori—for our future. Try a little harder, yeah?"
"Give it a shot. I'll back you 100%. If it flops, we pivot."
World's flipped here—maybe she wouldn't mesh with Kessoku Band, maybe music wouldn't pan out.
Worst case? Shin would intervene, system cheats at the ready.
"O-Okay, got it."
Talk of their future ignited her fire. She lit up, throwing her arms around him.
Naturally, she felt it—his reaction pressing against her.
Full-body warmth, her scent intensifying, hair tickling his nose.
Shin swallowed hard. Michiyo was passed out downstairs, Futari asleep.
Mood was prime. Hitori still revved up, flames licking at his own core.
Maybe... we just go for it?
If she mustered a shred of boldness and made the move, boom—done.
But Hitori just clung, savoring his solid pecs, his sweet masculine aura.
That rigid, battle-ready spear? It mortified her.
She wouldn't initiate—so should he?
Shin sighed deeply, a pang of disappointment hitting. He'd been hoping.
Only hitch: no condoms in the house.
He wasn't knocking her up as a student.
Come on, Hitori—where's your guts?
After a beat, Shin shelved the idea.
"Get some rest. I should head home."
He planted a soft kiss on her forehead, slipping from her grasp.
Hitori stared blankly as he left, then lifted her hands—feeling oddly hollow.
Had she messed up?
Whatever. These hands had just touched Shin. And during the hug, they'd been so close.
Still aching with need, Hitori dove back in, fingers strumming her own strings for a solo encore.
Weird girlish sounds echoed from the room—guitar hero style, apparently.
Playing instruments burned calories; she stripped off the sweaty nightie. Her room, her rules.
"Shin's gotten way more irresistible lately."
Before, fantasizing about him three or four times a night would settle her.
Tonight? Something was off.
"Shin~"
How many rounds? She lost count, body aching, utterly drained.
Meanwhile, Shin trudged heavily toward the bathroom.
"No time to go home—I'm about to burst."
If only Hitori had pounced; a little push-pull, and they'd have sealed it.
No raincoat? He'd just let it pour outside.
But she bailed!
He ducked into the bathroom, pants halfway down.
Fine—he'd handle it solo.
But as he got to work, a swaying shadow loomed in the doorway.