"Don't just stand there... sit down."
Ryo seemed to notice her nervousness and pulled her over to sit on the couch.
"Ah, right! The cake!"
Nijika snapped out of it and quickly placed the cake box on the table. "I... I'll go get plates and forks!"
Before either of them could say anything, she bolted toward the kitchen like she was escaping.
But the moment she turned on the light... Nijika froze.
On the counter, there were still scraps of freshly cut vegetables. In the sink, two recently used glasses and three sets of Western-style utensils soaked in water.
Most telling of all... several high-end imported food packages lay discarded in the trash.
Her mind filled with questions.
Ryo... would never cook.
If there was one thing she knew better than anyone, it was that Ryo's domestic skills were basically zero.
Aside from eating grass and playing bass, she couldn't do anything.
So then… who cooked this?
Could it have been Fujiwara-sensei?
And... there was another thing.
The air carried a faint, strange smell.
It was subtle, blending with the aroma of food, almost unnoticeable.
Like the lingering base note of an expensive perfume… mixed with something faintly metallic, vaguely unpleasant, like rot hidden beneath luxury.
Nijika brushed it off. Probably just some fancy apartment incense.
She shook her head, grabbed some plates and forks, and returned to the living room.
Carefully cutting the cake, she handed slices to both Ryo and Seiji.
"Please enjoy, Fujiwara-san!"
"Thank you."
The three of them sat together. The atmosphere quickly grew awkward.
To break the silence, Nijika turned to Seiji. "Fujiwara-san, I've read After School and The Devotion of Suspect X! They were incredible... I'm a huge fan!"
She stumbled over her words in excitement, then, unable to resist, asked the question that had been nagging at her.
"Um… sorry if this sounds rude, but… how did you and Ryo meet?"
The moment she said it, Ryo's body went rigid.
Her mind raced, ready to make up some lame excuse like "we met at a bookstore."
But before she could say a word, Seiji spoke first, calm as ever.
"We met by chance."
"By chance?" Nijika tilted her head.
"Yes," he said with an easy smile. "I've always had an interest in music. One day, I happened to learn that Ryo was a very talented bassist. From there, we started talking about music and eventually became friends."
It was a flawless explanation... reasonable and smooth.
Yet both Nijika and Ryo blinked, momentarily thrown off.
"Eh? Fujiwara-san, you're into music too?" Nijika asked, intrigued.
"That's right. I heard you're putting a band together?"
Seiji smiled, smoothly steering the conversation toward her. "I actually thought about starting a band myself once. Learned a bit of drums and bass too... but I never found the right people to play with."
That wasn't even a lie.
In his previous life, Seiji had dreamed of forming a band.
He'd learned drums and bass... granted, the system had taught him that, bundled in with advanced composing and arranging skills.
At this point, he'd mastered just about every instrument.
"Really?"
Nijika's eyes sparkled. Like a kid showing off her favorite toy, she launched into an eager explanation of her band dreams.
Seiji listened patiently, smiling, nodding occasionally, offering just the right feedback in all the right moments.
When the topic turned to arrangement... how drums, guitar, and bass interplay in a song... his comments were surprisingly sharp, professional even.
Nijika was quietly stunned.
It didn't feel like she was talking to a novelist at all.
He spoke like an experienced music producer.
And for Ryo, quietly listening to the side, it was even more shocking.
She'd spent days practically glued to him... never once noticing he had this level of skill.
When the hell did he become a full-blown music expert?
"Even though we just started out, I've been learning composition too," Nijika said with a sheepish grin. "If we're a band, we should have original songs, right?"
Seiji nodded approvingly.
"Speaking of which," he said, as if recalling something, "I've actually been working on a song with Ryo lately. That's why she's been so busy these past few days."
"Eh?!"
Ryo's eyes went wide.
When had that happened?
Did screaming into the void while half-dead count as "collaboration"?
She bit back the urge to explode and managed to keep a perfectly neutral face.
"Oh, so Ryo's been composing!" Nijika nodded, visibly relieved.
Then, with growing curiosity, she asked, "What kind of song is it?"
"It's still just a draft," Seiji said with a faint smile. "But… if you'd like, I could perform it for you. Ryo wouldn't mind, would you?"
He turned to Ryo.
Expressionless, she nodded. "Of course not. I'd love to."
"Really?! That'd be awesome!!" Nijika clapped her hands in excitement.
"Then I'll need a guitar," Seiji said casually, glancing toward Ryo. "Mind grabbing one for me?"
Ryo's expression turned complicated.
Without a word, she stood up and went to her music room, returning with three of her prized Fender electric guitars.
Though she mainly played bass, she could handle guitar too... and had quite the collection.
"Here," she said, handing him one.
"Thanks."
Seiji took it, adjusted it in his lap, fingers resting on the strings.
His posture… was clearly awkward.
Nijika frowned slightly.
Something felt off.
His hands... slender, pale... were flawless. No calluses on the fingertips at all.
And the way he held the guitar strap, the way he positioned his arms... it all screamed beginner.
Ryo folded her arms, already brainstorming excuses to bail him out. Something like, "He's actually a keyboardist, not a guitarist."
Then Seiji started playing.
At first, the notes were clumsy... out of rhythm, off-key.
He sounded like someone who'd picked up a guitar an hour ago.
Nijika's confusion deepened. She turned to Ryo, eyes wide, silently asking what the hell is going on?
Ryo kept her face blank, already loading up excuses in her head.
But then... everything changed.
Seiji's fingers suddenly moved with stunning precision.
The stiffness vanished... replaced by a fluid, dazzling motion.
His fingers danced across the fretboard, so fast they blurred.
In just a few breaths, he'd transformed from total amateur to master-level virtuoso.
Both girls' eyes went wide in disbelief.
Then... a haunting cascade of arpeggios filled the room, like crystal wind chimes echoing through a winter night.
And Seiji began to sing.
"Oh, won't you tell me... won't you tell me... this thing I've come to be?"
"The monster that you see... is it a part of me?"
The song... Unravel.
"I'm breaking down and shaking 'round in this world so helplessly..."
"But you just laugh and grin, completely blind within."
"There's no point now, broken anyway... I try to stop my breath..."
"Even knowing the truth won't unravel me until my death..."
The desperate melody, the pain in the lyrics, the arrangement that climbed from quiet despair to explosive emotion...
and that voice.
That impossible voice.
Switching between head and chest tones, screaming high without breaking... like a monster of pure sound.
Nijika stood frozen, mouth open, unable to speak.
She felt like a leaf tossed in a hurricane of sound... swept away, her mind wiped blank.
What… what is this?
Is this even human?
Ryo's reaction was even stronger.
She stared, wide-eyed, at the man before her... the one playing with terrifying intensity, face calm, almost serene.
Strong.
Too strong.
In skill, emotion, and presence...
He was overwhelming.
Like a morning star bursting into light, declaring its existence beyond question.
When the last note faded, silence fell.
Seiji calmly set the guitar down, his composure utterly unshaken, as if nothing had happened.
He looked at the two girls... Nijika frozen, Ryo's eyes blazing... and smiled.
"So? What do you think?"
"That was amazing!!" Nijika shouted, face flushed, clapping furiously.
All her doubts were gone. The man before her wasn't human... he was godlike.
For the next hour, she turned into a curious student, eagerly asking about drumming techniques, rhythm patterns, strength control.
Seiji, armed with system-level knowledge, answered each question with perfect clarity, cutting right to the core.
Every word hit home... problems that had stumped her for weeks suddenly made perfect sense.
Ryo, meanwhile, stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching with an unreadable expression.
By the time Nijika finally left, nearly an hour had passed.
Her head was spinning... still lost in the whirlwind of music and awe.
Seiji had offered to walk her out, but she'd laughed and refused, saying her e-scooter was right outside.
He didn't insist. He and Ryo simply saw her to the door.
"Be careful on your way home."
"I will!"
They said goodbye.
Neither of them noticed anything unusual.
On the ride back, the cold night air whipped against Nijika's face... but her heart burned hot.
Her mind replayed everything...
Seiji's breathtaking guitar solo, that haunting song called Unravel.
Each lyric, each note, was seared into her soul.
Too strong.
Unbelievably strong.
So this… was what music could be.
And his guidance on drumming... it had been like a revelation.
The fog had lifted; she could see her path forward so clearly it made her tremble.
"Meeting Seiji-san was such a blessing," she murmured, smiling to herself.
Then...
Her smile froze.
"Wait… no. That's not right."
She slammed the brakes, stopping by the curb, eyes wide.
Her mind raced backward.
When she'd left, Seiji and Ryo had stood together at the door, waving goodbye.
The way they stood... their body language... it was… natural. Too natural.
Like a couple who'd lived together for years, seeing off a guest.
She hadn't noticed at the time. But now...
"It was already ten when I left…" she muttered. "So Seiji didn't go home?"
Her face went red.
"Is he… staying over?!"
She gasped, face heating like a furnace.
She replayed everything carefully.
The used kitchen utensils... two sets.
Ryo's loungewear, versus Seiji's neat outfit.
That faint smell in the kitchen she'd dismissed as "incense"…
Piece by piece, the puzzle came together... forming a picture she didn't want to see.
They weren't just "friends discussing music."
"They… they lied to me!"
Her cheeks flushed crimson.
A swirl of embarrassment, anger, confusion... and something else she couldn't name... rose inside her.
"Ryo, you idiot… you actually hid this from me!"
She bit her lip, pulled out her phone, and dialed.
The call rang several times before being picked up.
"Hello, Nijika?" came Ryo's usual calm voice.
"Hey, Ryo!"
Nijika took a deep breath, trying to sound casual. "I just remembered... um, it's pretty late. Is Seiji still… at your place?"
Silence.
Ryo said nothing.
Nijika panicked, rushing to add, "I just mean, uh... if he's still there, I could drive him to the station! He'll miss the last train otherwise!"
"Pfft."
What came back was laughter... Ryo's laughter, amused and teasing.
"Ryo!?" Nijika blurted, cheeks puffing up in irritation. She didn't even know why she was mad... just that she was.
Ryo's voice came through, soft, with a hint of a smirk.
"Nijika… that's rock and roll."
Click.
The call ended.
"Beep… beep… beep…"
Nijika stared at her phone in shock.
That's rock and roll?
"What the hell?!"
Smoking, drinking, and sleeping around are jokes, not lifestyle goals! Don't tell me you're taking that seriously!
Fury, embarrassment, absurdity... all tangled inside her chest until her face burned scarlet.
Much later, she finally returned home.
"You're back! How did it go? Did you see Ryo?" her sister Seika asked, noticing her dazed expression.
"Yeah… everything's fine." Nijika nodded absentmindedly.
"She's okay, then? What happened?" Seika pressed.
"It's fine," Nijika muttered, shutting herself in her room.
No matter how much her sister knocked or called from outside, she didn't answer again.