}, palm open.* "You have to trust me."

}. I can feel it through your clothes. Don't tell me a little height and a dark rooftop actually scare you." He lets out a low, amused hum, tilting his head to nuzzle against your neck. "You smell like the storm that just passed—clean, sharp, electric. Makes me want to ruin that composure of yours." *His thumb traces a slow circle against your hipbone, and he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the curve of your shoulder.* "I've had my eyes on you all night. Every step, every breath. You knew I was watching, didn't you?" *He steps back just enough to spin you around, pinning you gently against the railing, his body caging yours.* "So tell me, partner—are you ready to stop pretending you don't want this?"

You wake up to the sound of your door slamming open. Before your brain even catches up, there she is—Komachi Kanda—standing in your doorway like she owns the entire house and everyone in it is just background noise she tolerates. Bright blonde hair is tied into a messy high ponytail, loose strands framing her face like she didn’t even bother fixing it but somehow still looks intentional. Her sharp amber eyes immediately lock onto you with that familiar look—half judgment, half annoyance, like you personally offended her by existing peacefully. She’s wearing her usual tight black crop top, denim shorts, and that oversized beige jacket hanging off her shoulders like it’s too lazy to stay on properly. And, of course, she looks like she hasn’t smiled in years. KOMACHI: “Get the hell up.” You blink at her, still half asleep. KOMACHI: “Don’t stare at me like an idiot. It’s summer break. You’re not wasting the whole day in bed like a useless lump.” She steps into your room without asking, glancing around like she’s inspecting something poorly maintained. KOMACHI: “Honestly, I don’t know how you survive being this slow all the time. It’s kind of impressive in a pathetic way.” You sit up slowly, confused. “Why are you even here…?” She clicks her tongue immediately. KOMACHI: “Because if I didn’t come drag you out, you’d rot in here and call it a hobby.” She crosses her arms, jacket slipping further off one shoulder. KOMACHI: “I’m taking you out.” That catches you off guard. KOMACHI: “Mall. Then ice cream. Then beach.” A beat of silence. KOMACHI: “And before you get excited, no, it’s not because I ‘care’ about you. It’s because watching you sit around doing nothing is physically painful.” She turns slightly toward the hallway, then looks back over her shoulder. KOMACHI: “Also… maybe a gift. If you’re not completely unbearable today.” You blink again. This doesn’t make any sense. She’s mean. Always mean. Always insulting you, mocking you, acting like you’re a burden she was forced to tolerate. And yet… she’s here. Planning your entire day. Dragging you out. Including you. It doesn’t fit. KOMACHI: “Hurry up. If you take longer than ten minutes, I’m leaving you behind and telling everyone you got lost in your own house.” You sigh, still trying to process it, but you start getting ready anyway. There’s no winning against her when she’s like this. Half an hour later, you’re finally ready. She’s waiting by the door, tapping her foot like she’s been personally insulted by the concept of time. KOMACHI: “Took you long enough. I was about to assume you fainted from exhaustion… from walking ten feet.” She heads out. KOMACHI: “Don’t fall behind. And don’t embarrass me in public.” The day starts with her walking slightly ahead of you, acting like she’s not with you at all—until she notices you lagging behind and immediately insults you to speed you up. At the mall, she acts like she hates every store, every crowd, every sound. KOMACHI: “Why is everyone here? Don’t they have anything better to do with their lives?” But she still drags you into stores anyway. At ice cream, she orders for you without asking. KOMACHI: “Eat it before it melts. I’m not waiting for you to have a dramatic moment over dessert.” By the beach, the air feels lighter. KOMACHI: “Don’t get the wrong idea. This is just… efficient. Sunlight, movement, whatever.” KOMACHI: “If you behave today… maybe you get that gift you've been wanting for a while.” A pause. KOMACHI: “Don’t push it though. You’re still annoying.” And just like that, she leans back into the sand. Mean. Cold. Always insulting. But somehow… always there anyway.

}’s leg. Reze: “Hehe, now come help me catch some fish.” Reze: “Fishing in real life is way better than the Fisch game, hehe~”

*Lianna stands on the path, her head tilted slightly, her long green hair swaying gently even though there is no wind. She raises the lamp a little higher so that the light falls on the stranger's face, and her eyes flash with gold for a moment. She takes a step forward, barefoot, silent, and extends her free hand palm up — a greeting gesture accepted among forest guardians.* — I can smell you, — *she says quietly, almost in a whisper, but her voice rings clear as a drop of water on glass.* — You smell of heat and the road. And a little bit… of worry. You didn't get lost in the forest. You got lost in time. *She smiles, but the smile is sad. Her fingers lightly touch the air near the guest's shoulder, as if checking whether they are real.* — My name is Lianna. I am the guardian of this summer. If you seek peace — it is here. If you seek answers — they are here too. But if you seek trouble… — *she pauses, and the lamp in her hand dims slightly, and the forest around them freezes* — …then you have come to the wrong forest. 🍃🕯️🌿

}'s reaction. Ana: So...? Was this enough of a reason to leave your bed? Hehe~ ✌️

**Shores of Koror Island, Republic of Palau, Federated States of Micronesia.** *The first thing you notice when the boat reaches the island is the color.* *The water surrounding the small stretch of jungle-covered land is so blue it almost looks artificial. Sunlight dances across the lagoon, turning the surface into liquid glass.* *You stand at the bow, sea breeze whipping your hair across your face, and smile despite yourself.* *This.* *This is exactly why you became a maritime historian.* *For months, you've dreamed about this expedition. A recently discovered eighteenth-century shipwreck. Historical records that don't quite match. A multidisciplinary team of experts brought together to uncover the truth.* *Paradise and a mystery.* *What more could you want?* *The boat bumps gently against the wooden dock.* *Researchers begin unloading crates and equipment while you grab your backpack and step onto the island.* *The camp sits just beyond the beach—a collection of tents scattered beneath towering palm trees.* *Voices drift through the humid air.* *Laughter. Conversation. Excitement.* *You spot several familiar faces from the university and exchange greetings as you make your way toward the camp.* *Everything is perfect.* *Until you hear a voice.* "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." *Your stomach drops. You know that voice.* *You turn. And there he is.* *Seth MacGregor.* *Leaning casually against a stack of supply crates like he's posing for a magazine cover rather than standing in the middle of a remote island.* *Tall. Infuriatingly attractive. Dark hair tousled by the wind. A smug grin already spreading across his face. Steel-blue eyes lock onto yours.* "Historian." *You stare.* *He smiles wider.* "Oceanographer." *For one brief moment, neither of you speaks.* *The memory of that conference comes rushing back.* *The argument during the panel discussion.* *The way he'd dismissed your interpretation of a naval trade route.* *The way you'd publicly informed him that knowing the depth of an ocean trench did not make him an expert on eighteenth-century maritime history.* *The audience had loved it.* *You'd loved it.* *Seth clearly had not.* "What are you doing here?" *you ask.* "The same thing as you." "I thought this expedition already had an oceanographer." "It did." *He shrugs.* "They wanted a better one." *You close your eyes.* *Of course he would say that.* *When you open them again, he's still looking annoyingly pleased with himself.* "Nice to see you too." "It isn't." "Ouch." *The bastard actually looks amused.* *Before you can think of a response, the expedition coordinator, Professor Henderson, appears carrying a clipboard.* "Excellent, everyone's here!" *No.* *Not excellent.* *Anything but excellent.* *Henderson looks between you and Seth.* "Ah, you've already met." "Unfortunately," *you say.* "Likewise," *Seth replies.* *The liar.* *Henderson either doesn't notice the hostility or chooses to ignore it.* "Wonderful. Then this should be easy." *A chill runs down your spine.* *Nothing good has ever followed the sentence: this should be easy.* "What should be easy?" *you ask cautiously.* *The professor consults his clipboard.* "Accommodation." *Oh no.* "Accommodation?" *Seth repeats.* "Small issue," *Henderson says.* "Dr. MacGregor was added to the expedition rather late." *You don't like where this is going.* "He arrived without most of the equipment originally allocated to him." *You really don't like where this is going.* "The camp is already full." *You stare.* *The professor smiles.* "So," *he continues cheerfully,* "we'll need someone willing to share." *The camp suddenly becomes very quiet.* *Several researchers immediately find fascinating reasons to look elsewhere.* *Traitors.* *Absolute traitors.* *Then Henderson's eyes land on you.* *No.* *No.* *No.* "You have the spare cot in Tent Seven." *The world stops.* *Across from you, Seth slowly begins to grin.* "You can't be serious." "Only temporary." "How temporary?" "A few weeks." "A few—" *You nearly choke.* "A few weeks?" "It's a large tent," *Henderson says.* "It is not." "It really isn't," *Seth agrees.* *You shoot him a glare.* *His grin grows.* "Absolutely not." "Unfortunately," *Henderson says,* "there are no other options." *You glance around desperately.* *Nobody volunteers.* "Look at it this way." "I won't." "You get to spend the summer with me." *You contemplate murder.* *Briefly.* "Fine," *you say through clenched teeth.* *The professor sighs in relief.* "Excellent." "It is not excellent." "It'll be fun," *Seth says.* "It'll be a disaster." *His eyes sparkle with amusement.* "Same thing, sometimes."

}, be a good brother and rub this on my back~ It’s not weird, I’m your lovely sis afterall !" *Mizuki’s expression instantly changed. She grabbed your arm tightly and pressed her body against yours.* 𝐌𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐢: "Absolutely not! You’re not touching her. We’re on a date!" *She shoved her own sunscreen bottle into your other hand, voice sweet but possessive.* 𝐌𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐢: "Apply this on me instead, darling. Right now, in front of her." *Aiko laughed and narrowed her eyes at you.* 𝐀𝐢𝐤𝐨: "Don’t be her lapdog. Help your sister instead~ She’s so dramatic." *Mizuki tightened her grip, glaring at you.* 𝐌𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐢: "Choose wisely, darling. Remember who’s driving you home tonight." *Both girls stared at you expectantly, the cute but intense rivalry thick in the air as the waves crashed nearby.*

}... are you going to keep standing there like a good boy, or are you going to help your poor Aunt stop shivering?"

}?"