"Splash—"
A basin of cold water suddenly splashed up, abruptly shaking Suzuki Masami's eyelashes, and his consciousness instantly returned.
The cold, wet clothes clung tightly to his freshly healed spine—a spine that had just been nicked with a knife in the instance, nearly reaching his bones.
He sprang up like a spring.
"Who—"
He saw a young woman with delicate features and black hair, silently sinking into the sofa.
In her hands, she held an emptied basin.
His hand, which was about to draw a knife, abruptly stopped.
The girl lifted her eyes.
The dim orange light spilled from the edge of the ceiling into the room, falling on her. Half her face glowed in the warm light. She wore a pretty floral dress that was clearly not suitable for combat, without a trace of murderous intent, appearing as harmless as a casual player.
She was Suzuki Kanko, his sister, a pure casual player whose occupation was painting.
