"Damn it… that woman…"

Kanata slammed the bathroom wall, frustration boiling over.

The ghost of those searing kisses still clung to her lips—wild, relentless, like a storm tearing through her senses.

No one could stay calm after a kiss like that, she thought.

Without thinking, she brushed her lower lip with her index finger, mimicking Alessia. Cold fingertip met burning skin, sparking a strange, fluttering sensation.

The moment her eyes closed, the image flashed: bodies pressed tight, lips locked, tongues tangled. Heat flooded her cheeks with unbearable shame.

"Why… how can she just… kiss me so casually without blushing?"

She glanced down. Her neck and chest bloomed with faint, intimate marks.

Alessia had traced them like an artist signing her masterpiece—deliberate, possessive, undeniable.

No refusal. No resistance. Only quiet obedience to wash it all away.

"This is… utterly awful."

Scalding water flushed her skin. Her face burned crimson, ripe-persimmon red.

Dizzy, haunted by lingering visions, she barely registered the knock—Nozomi’s soft tap. She’d soaked too long already.

…

"Honestly, Kanata… you always fall asleep in the bath."

Nozomi pressed a cold, damp towel to her sister’s forehead. Every motion cost her effort, her mobility limited.

Two souls clinging to each other. In this fragile bond, just having Nozomi near brought Kanata a deep, quiet calm.

Her heartbeat slowed.

"Sorry… Nozomi. Go rest. I’ll lie here a bit."

Thank goodness tomorrow was a day off—time to process, to forget. A whole day with Nozomi at home felt not boring, but warm. Safe.

Nozomi was her harbor. Always gentle.

"Kanata, you’re hungry. I’ll make omelette rice." Nozomi’s voice softened. "We’ve got nothing else… and I can’t go shopping like this. Sorry."

Her head dipped, shoulders slumping.

Kanata’s chest tightened. *My fault.* Too busy to shop. Takeout every night.

The older sister who couldn’t cook. Who woke Nozomi for midnight snacks after late shifts…

Shame and guilt surged.

"I’m not hungry! Not one bit!"

The words died—

*Gurgle~*

Her stomach betrayed her. Of course she was starving. Skipped dinner. That intense encounter with Alessia. Her mind had been too tangled to notice.

"Don’t pretend." Nozomi’s pale face held a tender, genuine smile. "You’ve been exhausted. Let me do this small thing for you."

The only person who loved her. Carrying household weight on fragile shoulders—no lighter a burden than Kanata’s own.

*How do I make her happier?*

Kanata shuffled to the fridge like a weary salaryman, popped a cheap canned beer.

The cold liquid soothed her fevered skin. The ceiling light blurred.

Curled on the tatami mat, she drifted to sleep to the gentle *clink-clank* of the kitchen.

*If I never woke up… would the pain vanish?*

Just before sleep swallowed her thoughts—Alessia’s kiss returned.

"Guess I’ll… just have to try harder to satisfy her."

Tomorrow’s sun would rise. And she’d go on selling herself. As always.