Silence was immediate after Akiha closed the door shut.
"…W-well," Akiha said, scratching the back of his neck. "At least it actually has two beds."
"Yeah," Fumika replied a little too quickly. "That's… good."
She set her cardigan on one bed and placed her glasses on the table.
They both stood there.
Unsure where to look.
They'd been friends for as long as either of them could remember.
So why did something this ordinary feel so awkward?
Back then, their parents had been nearby. Walls, rules, and unspoken boundaries had existed—even if neither of them had consciously thought about it.
Here, there was nothing.
No parents. No safety net. No familiar world.
Even as childhood friends—friends who'd never seen each other 'that' way—it didn't change the fact that; they were still a boy and a girl.
And mistakes could definitely happen.
Fumika cleared her throat. "So. Um… I'll—take this bed."
"R-Right. I'll take the other."
They nodded. Simultaneously. Too fast.
"…We should eat when the food arrives," she said.
"Yeah. Definitely… I'm starving."
"…Then sleep."
"Mhm."
Another silence.
Neither of them moved.
They stood there—childhood friends who'd shared broken controllers, late-night games, and whispered embarrassing secrets—now keenly aware that this was a different world, a different situation, and that somehow… it mattered.
A knock sounded at the door.
Both of them flinched.
They exchanged a look.
And neither reached for the handle.
The knock came again.
Soft—but insistent.
Neither of them moved.
The air in the room felt heavier than it had any right to be, as if even breathing too loudly might disturb something fragile that had settled between them.
"…They're probably waiting," Fumika said at last, her tone deliberately even.
"Y-Yeah," Akiha replied. "I'll—uh—get it."
He stood a little too quickly, nearly catching his foot on the edge of the bed. He paused, inhaled once to steady himself, then crossed the room and opened the door.
A young girl—clearly an inn employee—stood there holding a wooden tray. Steam curled upward, carrying the comforting scent of food.
"Your meals," she said simply. Her gaze flicked past Akiha for half a second, then she looked away again. "Careful. It's hot."
"Th-Thanks," Akiha said, taking the tray. "We'll eat inside."
She nodded and left without another word.
He closed the door.
The tray held two bowls of thick stew—brown broth, chunks of vegetables and meat—along with rough-cut bread and small wooden spoons. Simple, filling fare.
"…It smells quite good," Fumika said.
"Yeah," Akiha agreed.
Way better than convenience store food, he thought.
They each took a bowl and sat on the edge of their respective beds. Not facing each other. Not touching. Just close enough to be aware.
For a while, the only sounds were wooden spoons scraping gently and quiet chewing.
Warmth spread through Akiha's chest as the stew settled in his stomach.
This is… nice.
Unreasonably nice, considering everything.
"So," Fumika said eventually. "What now?"
He swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "First priority… is money. Something stable."
"Obviously."
"And a way to survive without relying on luck," he continued. "We've got nineteen large silver and four silver coins left. If we stay here and eat three meals a day, that's about five silver daily. That gives us… maybe a month. That's… not including other necessities."
"Yeah." She exhaled quietly. "That damn temple of Lumi—whatever it's called, summoned us here without our consent, then immediately abandoned us when they found us useless."
She let out a heavy sigh.
"C'mon, it's… actually not that bad " He hesitated, then shrugged. "There's Adventurers' Guild."
She looked at him. "You sound… almost excited."
"I mean," he said, rubbing his neck, "As someone who grew up on RPGs and isekai stories. It's kind of hard not to be. And it's not like we have better options. We're just… normal high schoolers, after all."
That earned him a small, understanding smile.
"We already have skills," he went on. "Weak ones, sure. But guild work usually starts with low-risk stuff. Gathering herbs. Courier jobs. Stuffs like that."
Her eyes flickered. "Courier jobs…"
"Hey," he said lightly, "your class might actually be good for that."
"Don't sugarcoat it—and I still didn't know how it works."
"I'm not sugarcoating anything…" he replied. "And Blood Magic isn't that useless… hopefully. I just need to be careful."
She studied him for a moment. "You really think we can manage?"
"I think," he said slowly, "it's better than doing nothing."
They finished eating in quieter comfort. The earlier awkwardness hadn't vanished—but it had dulled, softened by shared focus and full stomachs.
When they were done, Fumika stretched slightly and winced.
"…I feel gross," she admitted. "Sweaty. Sticky."
"Yeah," Akiha agreed. "Same."
We outrun a monster that has the clear intention of killing us, after all.
"We should clean up." she said, pulling the collar of her shirt, looking down inside it.
"Good idea."
She glanced at the basin. "There's no bathroom. But we can at least wipe our body."
"That… works," he said. "I'll get the water."
He fetched a bucket from where the innkeeper had told him, hauled water from the well, and returned with arms already sore. He awkwardly asked the kitchen for spare cloths; the cook gave him a look but handed some unused napkins over.
When everything was ready, they stood near the basin.
"…So," Fumika said. "Who goes first?"
"You," Akiha said immediately.
"No. You."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Because you suggested it, you should take the responsibility."
"That's not how responsibility works—and I'm pretty sure you're the one who mentioned it first."
They stared at each other.
"…We're really arguing about this," she muttered.
"Apparently."
Fumika exhaled and rubbed her forehead. "Fine. I'll go first."
"Okay."
She stepped toward the basin—then stopped.
"…Why are you still standing there?"
"Huh?"
She turned slowly, giving him a look—somewhere between disbelief and resignation.
"Aki-kun."
"…Yeah?"
"I can't wipe myself if you're stand right there."
The words took a second to land.
"Oh—! R-Right, sorry!"
He spun around too fast, nearly knocking over the chair, and fumbled his way out the door. It clicked shut behind him as he leaned back against it, then slid down to sit. The muffled noise of laughter and drunken chatter drifted up faintly from the first floor.
Why didn't that register immediately…?
From inside, he could hear soft splashes. Cloth moving. Nothing explicit—just enough to remind him she was there, alone, doing something private.
This is stupid.
They'd known each other since forever.
So why did it feel different now?
His chest felt tight, and he didn't like it at all.
Don't overthink it. Don't make things weird—
Don't ruin what we already have.
He stayed there, staring at the floor, until—
"Aki-kun," Fumika called. "I'm done."
He pushed himself up and turned as the door opened.
She stood there with her hair slightly damp, expression carefully neutral. "Your turn. I'll wait outside."
"It's fine," he said too quickly. "You don't have to."
She blinked. "What?"
"I mean—" He gestured vaguely. "I'm actually wearing shorts under. I'm a guy. It's not like—"
Her face flushed instantly.
"That's not the issue!" she snapped.
And then she walked past him and out the door, not slamming it—but not lingering either.
Akiha stood there for a second, staring at the empty hallway.
"…Then what is the issue…?"
He washed up quickly, keeping his thoughts deliberately shallow. Cold water. Cloth. Done. When he finished, he opened the door and said quietly, "Fumika?"
She came back in, posture a little stiff—but not angry.
The awkwardness settled between them again. Not heavy. Just… there.
"…We should buy some new clothes tomorrow," she said at last. "So we can wash these."
"Yeah," he nodded. "And register at the guild. Get some basic adventuring gear."
She yawned, covering her mouth. "I'm exhausted. My gamer body was not built for today."
"Same."
They lay down on their respective beds, turning slightly away from each other.
Fumika drapped her cardigan over her thighs—there's no blanket, and with her school skirt was barely reaching her knees, it'll be quite a cold night for her.
"…We'll talk more tomorrow," she murmured.
"Tomorrow," he agreed.
The lantern dimmed.
Neither of them fell asleep right away.