Just after class, she was about to text Mr. Shinya when she noticed an unread message. Opening it, she found that he had let her know she didn't need to prepare dinner tonight.
Though indeed relieved of her usual cooking duties, she still needed something to eat. As she began planning her own meal, she noticed that the fridge had been restocked, likely by Mr. Shinya himself given the ratio of meat to vegetables.
It seemed Mr. Shinya was avoiding her, probably fearing she would press him with questions.
"So, what should I have for dinner? Hmm..." She stared at the freshly stocked fridge, but without anyone's suggestions, she felt oddly at a loss.
"How about a drink to warm up first?"
"Yes, that's a good idea. I'll prepare something to go with it…" She paused, only then realizing she wasn't alone. Turning around, she saw a man leaning against the windowsill, bathed in moonlight, making his face difficult to discern.
The room lay quiet , bathed instead in the soft, silvery glow of moonlight. Gentle beams slipped through the curtains, casting a delicate, shimmering veil over every corner and contour. The moonlight painted uneven patches across the floor, like scattered pools of liquid silver, serene and ethereal. Each object in the room seemed more defined, its edges softened yet accentuated by the pale light, shrouded in an almost mystical quiet. The air held a faint chill, and the moon's radiance drifted silently, imbuing the space with a calm, dreamlike quality, as if time itself had paused to listen to the night.
On the once-empty dining table, there was now a bottle of soju and a single, delicate cup. The man held a matching cup, forming a quiet symmetry.
"Remember me?"
"…How could I forget, Mr. Shu."
She certainly remembered this man—his face was too strikingly ethereal to easily forget. Yet she hadn't expected to see him here, in her apartment.
In retrospect, she should have suspected it. He had always seemed too otherworldly to be entirely human.
Mr. Shu smiled at her response, downing his drink in a single, graceful motion, his face turned toward the moonlight.
"Ah, how fortunate we are to meet again, Miss Haruko."
In the moonlight, the man felt distant, unreachable.
She had always believed that sincere people could bridge any social divide and become friends. Yet with Mr. Shu, an inexplicable sense of distance pervaded their conversations, despite his genial demeanor.
"So, you're a resident here too, Mr. Shu?" Haruko set down a warm plate of teriyaki chicken and the pickled ginger she had prepared yesterday, placing small plates for each of them.
Just as she handed him his plate, he poured himself another drink, tapping her cup lightly. As he did, the warmth of the glass intensified, steam rising gently.
So, Mr. Shu was indeed a spirit.
"Well, Mr. Shu, you have quite an ethereal look. The kind old people call 'otherworldly,' I believe?" She observed his face closely, noticing not only his beauty but also the faint elegance of a bygone era in his manner.
"Miss Haruko is also quite lovely, though I'll refrain from making any remarks on a young lady's face—I wouldn't want to seem shallow." With that, he lightly brushed the ends of her hair. She barely had time to flinch before he withdrew his hand, meeting her surprised gaze with a calm smile.
"Your hair is very beautiful, Miss Haruko."
Having a man with such elegance and sincerity gaze at her with such admiration, Haruko's cheeks flushed red. She downed her drink and smoothed her hair, but it only seemed to worsen her embarrassment. Shu, noting her reddening ears, merely smiled, refilling both their glasses with a quiet elegance.
The fact that he didn't mention her blush only made him seem all the more gentlemanly.
"What kind of drink is this? I've never tasted anything quite like it."
In her hometown, she'd sometimes had a beer or sake with her boss or father, but this—though a type of soju—had a mild sweetness that was unfamiliar.
"This is ginseng wine."
"Ginseng wine?"
"Well… you could call it 'carrot wine.'"
"No… It's not carrot." Though Haruko could be a bit scattered, her taste was rarely mistaken.
"Correct. It's a medicinal root from China. The taste isn't bad, is it?"
"It's lovely! But it seems quite strong." She quickly took a bite of chicken to balance the heat, surprised at the kick of the medicinal wine.
"Oh, that I wouldn't know—it's homemade."
Shu noticed her empty glass and naturally refilled it, also topping off his own. She thought a sip would be enough, but suddenly an enormous, ancient-looking ceramic jar materialized, dusted with traces of earth. He raised his soju bottle, and the jar's red cloth lifted, pouring its contents into his bottle before vanishing with a faint thud.
Despite her exposure to spirits, Haruko still found it hard to get used to their effortless magic. But she kept her silence; if she was to live here, she'd have to accept it.
"Do you brew sake yourself, Mr. Shu? If possible, I'd…"
She started to ask for a lesson, but he shook his head.
"I don't make it; this was… shall we say, 'borrowed.'"
"Borrowed?!"
She gasped, and Mr. Shu's gentle smile didn't change. Was he joking?
She didn't press further, muttering instead, "Are spirits always so evasive?"
"Not at all, Miss Haruko." He drank at twice her pace, his face remaining unflushed despite finishing two bottles. "Spirits are straightforward by nature; it's only with humans that we tend to become verbose."
She thought she understood, though not entirely convinced.
"Kogimi said there's a social hierarchy among spirits, with strict distinctions—is that true?"
"Of course. Societies form around such distinctions."
Although she didn't voice it, Haruko sensed that Mr. Shu enjoyed this topic. Or perhaps he found it interesting to discuss with a human, as his words came more freely.
"Though hierarchy is less pronounced, it exists. Aside from their extended lifespans and unique abilities, spirits are quite similar to humans."
"Ah, longevity… how wonderful. Spirits don't age, do they?"
Like any girl, she dreamed of eternal youth, though she wasn't one to pursue rigorous beauty regimens.
"Oh, we do. Just look at me." Mr. Shu gestured to his ageless face, still smiling, though his expression held an indefinable emotion.
Haruko sensed it wasn't simply sorrow. Taking it as a jest, she refrained from pressing further.