Actually, Yun Mingxin had one more thing left unsaid.

In Japan, people don’t just casually use given names.

Surnames are the norm—only very close relationships, like family or lovers, warrant first names.

But he figured maybe she’d adapted to Chinese customs after moving here.

So he didn’t dwell on the detail.

“Oh, Mingxin, are you really into Japanese?”

The sudden use of his given name made his scalp tingle.

Her question was tricky to answer.

He couldn’t exactly say, *“I’ve got a phone full of waifus, and it pisses me off that I only understand a few phrases.”*

“Well… I am a bit interested,” he hedged.

“Then let’s exchange contacts. You can ask me anytime—I’m quite gifted with languages.”

“Uh, sure!”

The words barely left his mouth when he noticed her small hand already holding out a phone.

*When did she even pull that out?*

*This eager?*

He glanced at her poised, mature face—flawless, unreadable.

Nothing gave her away. Only his own cheeks burned.

After adding her, Kujou Yukihime nodded in satisfaction.

“Anything else, El—Yukihime? If not, I should head out. Last bus from campus won’t wait.”

“No need to worry about that!”

Kujou Yukihime patted her chest lightly, the motion rippling under her loose top.

Yun Mingxin’s gaze flickered. *Huh. Hidden depths.*

She was clearly a *seriously* stacked older sister.

Seeing his flustered expression, Kujou Yukihime felt no annoyance.

Truthfully, when she first saw his author profile, she’d never guessed he’d be so young.

His writing felt seasoned, rich with emotion—nothing like this blushing “little” brother.

Naturally, she couldn’t resist teasing him.

“As my guest, how could I let you take the bus? I’ll arrange a car.”

“No, really—don’t bother!” Yun Mingxin declined awkwardly.

A ten-minute bus ride turned into a chauffeured luxury car?

He’d feel painfully out of place. His scalp prickled at the thought.

Sensing his sincerity, Kujou Yukihime dropped the offer. But as he turned to leave, she pressed the entire box of lavender tea into his hands.

This time, he didn’t refuse. He’d finally realized—he’d been neatly maneuvered all along.

She controlled the rhythm. Rejecting this gift would only invite a hundred other “favors.”

He’d arrived empty-handed. Now he left weighed down.

The moment Yun Mingxin stepped past the gate, Kujou Yukihime’s demeanor shifted.

The elegant, ancient grace vanished. In its place stood a yakuza queen, sharp and icy.

Her gentle smile cooled. Her eyes locked onto the shadow behind her chair, glacial.

*These pests. Always meddling.*

She’d wanted to meet someone—so they demanded a recording.

*“Protecting family secrets,” my ass. Greedy fools clinging to pennies.*

That’s why she’d cut the conversation short. Couldn’t speak freely.

*Guess I’ve been too well-behaved lately. They’re getting nervous.*

A pity. She’d already set the pot to boil—slowly lulling them into complacency.

Soon, these parasites would be gone for good.

Kujou Yukihime snorted. She carefully collected Yun Mingxin’s teacup and slipped it into her pocket.

---

Clutching the gift box, Yun Mingxin nearly collided with Kujou Kana at the gate.

Her face was a frozen mask.

*How does a maid survive with that attitude toward guests?* he wondered.

Uncomfortable with confrontations, he turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Her voice cut like ice.

It felt like being caught red-handed.

Yun Mingxin sighed and turned back.

Kujou Kana’s eyes swept over him. Her frown deepened at the gift box—*her* box, flown straight from Japan.

The Kujou family had their own private airport, after all.

But how Yukihime-sama used it wasn’t her place to question.

Yun Mingxin watched her face loom closer.

Danger radiated from her flawless features.

When only inches separated them, she stopped. Her hand reached out.

Up close, he noticed her hands—no roughness of chores. The calluses were uneven, shaped by weapon training.

Her breath warmed his skin.

Instinct screamed: *Don’t resist. It’ll end badly.*

He shut his eyes, bracing like a doll.

Her hand veered downward.

Fingers brushed his collar—not his face.

She wasn’t being sinister. She was fixing his high collar, which he’d tugged loose earlier when the room grew warm.

Yukihime-sama had been too starry-eyed to notice. But Kujou Kana, the strictest guardian of etiquette, saw everything.

With practiced gentleness, she smoothed the fabric, adjusted the top button.

Yun Mingxin felt only soft hands moving over his chest.

“Done.”

Her voice stayed cool. “Out there, appearances matter. They reflect on you.”

He opened his eyes.

Before he could stammer thanks, she’d already stepped aside, back at her post.

A strange feeling bloomed in his chest—like biting into an Alpine candy as a kid.

First, the sharp sour core. Then the sweet shell melting over it.

Sour and sweet tangled together.

Surprisingly good.

“Thanks!” he called over his shoulder.

At the gate, Kujou Kana’s lips curved—just slightly.

*He really is different.*