After finishing breakfast with the Yoshizawa sisters, Ryo Jin walked them to their training facility.
Their home was in Shibuya—quite a trek from the old house Ryo rented in Kawasaki—but the sisters insisted on visiting him every morning. They even brought breakfast and offered "wake-up service," which made Ryo feel oddly guilty.
So, to return the favor, he decided that no matter how busy his part-time jobs got, he would make sure to pick them up and drop them off every day.
That unspoken routine soon became a comfortable rhythm they all shared.
The sisters were always beaming when walking beside him, and Ryo, flanked by two radiant beauties, inevitably drew the envy of every passerby.
But if it kept stalkers and creeps away from the girls, Ryo didn't mind playing the part of the handsome "taken" guy in public.
After watching the twins disappear into the gym, Ryo turned and left.
It was still early, so he stopped by a supermarket to buy ingredients for dinner.
The sisters might visit for breakfast, but they always went home for dinner—if they didn't, their parents would scold them.
So, as long as his shifts didn't conflict, Ryo usually cooked his own dinners. It was cheaper that way, and budgeting had become second nature to him.
Life as a part-time worker in Tokyo wasn't easy.
Not only did he have to cover rent, but his tuition too.
He'd never saved much before, and transferring into Shujin Private High School had cost him a small fortune in "donations." Now, he had no choice but to earn more and spend less.
Still, he didn't actually mind this kind of life—struggling to get by, scraping through day by day.
After all, he was alone, with no family to worry about. Living as a free and unburdened "freeter" suited him just fine.
Gara gara gara!
The old front door screeched loudly as Ryo pushed it open. The warped wood and rusted hinges made a terrible noise, impossible to ignore.
That door was so bad it sometimes jammed, forcing him to shove it open with his shoulder—but on the bright side, no burglar would ever dare break into a house that loud.
As Ryo thought idly about that, he heard the toilet flush.
Then a woman stumbled out, looking like a zombie fresh from the grave.
"Good afternoon, Momoka. The sun's high already—you're finally free from your suffering?"
"Guhh~! Don't say 'free' like that… I actually kind of want to crawl back in there…"
The woman—her dyed beige hair disheveled, her face pale—staggered past Ryo before collapsing face-first onto the sofa.
This was Momoka Kawahara, Ryo's roommate.
She was twenty years old, old enough to still be a college student—but she'd been working odd jobs for years.
She had no stable employment, living entirely off part-time gigs.
Technically, she was a professional musician, writing and performing her own songs as an independent underground rocker.
It was pretty cool, honestly—she had the confident aura of a trendy Tokyo girl… though technically, she lived in Kawasaki.
And, to be fair, Momoka looked amazing. She had strong, sharp features and upturned eyes that gave her a bold, confident allure—beautiful and a little dangerous, the kind of charm that appealed to both men and women alike.
She had a great figure, too. Her long legs—wrapped in black pantyhose—hung over the armrest of the sofa, swaying lazily. Hard not to stare.
…If only she hadn't been wearing those same pantyhose since last night.
There were still faint wine stains on them from when she'd spilled her drink—and they probably smelled awful by now.
Ryo knew all too well how chaotic her private life was beneath that polished exterior.
By this point, he'd long since stopped feeling any thrill about living with a beautiful woman.
If anything, it felt like sharing a home with a troublesome cat—one he had to clean up after, feed, and occasionally drag to the vet.
He put the groceries into the fridge, then took out a jar of homemade yogurt he'd prepared the night before.
He didn't expect a woman that hungover to feed herself.
So, squatting beside her, he scooped up a spoonful and held it to her lips.
"Come on, Momoka. Open up. Aaah~."
"Aaah… mmm… soft and cold, like pudding… tasty…"
The useless woman didn't even open her eyes before eating.
Yogurt was supposed to help with hangovers. Ever since they'd started living together, Ryo had made it for her often—and it worked.
After a few more bites, Momoka mumbled, still half-collapsed on the couch:
"Ryo, you should just be my wife already… I wanna drink your miso soup every day—the free kind…"
"Momoka, you know," Ryo replied instantly, deadpan,
"There's a saying that a full-time housewife's yearly contribution to society is worth about three million yen. I'll give you a discount—one and a half million's fine. I'll even throw in a bedtime service. Interested?"
"Oooh-hoo-hoo~!"
Momoka grit her teeth dramatically, clearly thinking about it for real.
"You sharp-tongued high school brat… you've got quite the mouth. But hey, if it comes to sleeping together, aren't I the one losing out? Shouldn't you be paying me instead?"
Ryo: "That's gender bias, and it's a problematic attitude in this day and age."
Their nonsense banter was a regular occurrence.
It was definitely more chaotic—and far more fun—than talking to the sweet, innocent Yoshizawa sisters.
After finishing the yogurt, Momoka finally managed to sit up, looking a little more human.
She glanced at the microwave and instantly guessed:
"The gymnast twins already stopped by, huh? What time is it? Ugh, work… oh, still got time. I'll just nap a bit more…"
Ryo: "No. I'm heating up your breakfast. Go shower and change out of those dirty clothes."
"Mmmph…"
Momoka sniffed her shirt and immediately grimaced. The alcohol smell alone was enough to knock her back.
Defeated, she shuffled toward the bathroom like a zombie, dragging her feet the whole way.
When Ryo was with the Yoshizawa sisters, they took care of him.
But with Momoka, it was the opposite.
He always felt like he had to take care of her—a strange sense of obligation toward this clumsy rock musician who couldn't manage her own life.
He couldn't quite explain it.
…Maybe it was like finding a stray cat—you feed it once, and suddenly, it's your responsibility forever.
Ryo chuckled to himself.
Whoever falls first loses, right? And he was her fan, after all.
Momoka didn't know that Ryo was actually one of her listeners.
He'd only discovered her music a few months ago, but her songs had played a big part in his decision to give up being a Phantom Thief and return to Tokyo to live as an ordinary person.
He'd never tell her that, though.
Despite her rough, confident exterior, Momoka was surprisingly sensitive—easily hurt.
Ryo didn't want to put pressure on her. He just wanted to quietly support her music. That was enough.
"—GYAAAAH!?"
Suddenly, a shriek erupted from the bathroom, followed by the sound of bottles crashing to the floor.
A moment later, Momoka burst out wrapped in a towel, drenched and screaming.
Her eyes were swirling in panic.
"Snake! There's a snake! (.>?<.) It crawled in through the window!!!"
Ryo blinked. "Ah… the temperature's rising, so yeah, the little critters outside are waking up. Don't worry, I checked—none of the ones in the yard are poisonous. Just dry your feet first; you're soaking the floor."
Despite the sight of a towel-clad twenty-year-old rocker standing before him, Ryo remained perfectly calm—saintly, even.
He kept his gaze steady, reached for the clothesline pole by the wall, and in a few swift motions, caught the small reptile and tossed it back out the window.
From behind, his silhouette looked sturdy and reliable—like that of a gentle, dependable father.
Momoka stared at him, eyes wide with admiration.
…He actually looked kind of cool.
Her heart skipped a beat, the suspension bridge effect kicking in hard.
For a dangerous moment, the older rockstar found herself falling for her younger high-school roommate—wanting, somehow, to be his daughter.