The sharp ring of the alarm drags me from my sleep. My eyes flutter open reluctantly.
From downstairs, I hear a faint sound coming from the kitchen—the unmistakable clink of dishes, followed by a voice calling out.
"Big brother, are you awake?"
Her voice floats up the staircase, warm and familiar.
"Yeah,"I reply, stifling a yawn.
My voice is heavy with sleep as I sit up and stretch.
After freshening up, I head downstairs to the first floor, where the kitchen and dining table are tucked into the heart of the house. As I step into the dining room, a comforting aroma greets me—a mix of warm toasts and fried eggs.
By the stove, my little sister is hard at work, humming softly as she flips slices of toast. Her movements are quick but precise, a small smile playing on her lips. Cooking breakfast has always been her way of starting the day, and as I take in the scene, I can't help but feel a quiet sense of home.
"What? Is there something on my face?" she asked, her hands instinctively brushing her cheeks as she glanced at me.
"Nothing," I muttered, suppressing a yawn as I shuffled toward the table.
She narrowed her eyes, a knowing smirk creeping onto her face. "You stayed up late reading manga again, didn't you?"
"Didn't stay up that late," I said, though the weak defense in my voice betrayed me.
"Ah, so you did stay up late," she shot back, crossing her arms in mock indignation.
"Haven't I told you a hundred times to get more sleep? Just look at those dark circles under your eyes! You're starting to look like a zombie—no, worse, a dead fish! At this rate, you'll never get a girlfriend."
She leaned dramatically against the counter, clutching her chest as if the weight of my bad habits were too much to bear.
"And because of you, my dear idiotic brother, I'm so worried that I'm probably going to get dark circles too. Noooooo! Anything but that! Oh, God, hear my prayer!"
Throwing her hands toward the ceiling in mock despair, she wailed, "If I must bear dark circles, then please, God, give mine to this fool of a brother who's the source of all my stress. He deserves them far more than I do!".....
Her exaggerated antics filled the room, and despite myself, a grin tugged at my lips. This was just another morning in our chaotic little world.
The girl currently ranting about my poor life choices is none other than my little sister, Saito Mika. At 15 years old, she's in her final year at Azayakana Middle School, a prestigious all-girls academy. Unlike me, she's practically perfect—a brilliant student who excels in both academics and sports. On top of that, she's beautiful, the kind of effortlessly striking beauty that turns heads wherever she goes.
As if that wasn't enough, she's also the president of the student council. A model student in every sense of the word. And while I rarely say it out loud, I'm proud of her. Extremely proud. Not that my compliments would mean much to her—she doesn't need validation from someone like me.
In contrast, I'm just… average. My grades are average. My looks are average. Everything about me screams ordinary.
That thought brings me back to yesterday, to something I still can't wrap my head around. After school, I had an actual conversation with Tadashi Lily. Yes, The Crimson Demon Princess herself.
She's notorious for her icy demeanor, the kind of person who doesn't speak unless absolutely necessary. There are all sorts of rumors about her, too—how she's some sort of "Tyrant Queen" who rules over everyone with an iron fist. Ridiculous, really. Taking rumors seriously is the height of stupidity.
Still, the memory lingers in my mind. Her sharp eyes, the way she spoke—there was something about her that felt different from the rumors. Something I can't quite place.
"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"
Mika's voice boomed through the dining room as she slammed her hand against the table, making the plates rattle.
"YES, MA'AM!"
I shouted back instinctively, snapping to attention.
She sighed heavily, sinking back into her chair and shaking her head. "What am I going to do with you…?"
I shrugged, trying to diffuse the tension as I placed breakfast on the plates. "Well, just let future Mika deal with whatever happens to future Yuta," I said lightly, offering her a small smile.
Her lips twitched, but she refused to give me the satisfaction of a full smile. "Are you going to be late again today because of club stuff and part-time work?"
"Uh, yeah," I replied, a little too quickly. "I'll also be hanging out with some friends after school, so I'll be back late, but definitely before dinner."
It was a half-truth, Mika's sharp eyes lingered on me for a moment before she returned her focus to her toast. She didn't press further, but the weight of her unspoken words hung in the air.
"It must be exhausting juggling both club activities and a part-time job," Mika said, her tone softer now.
"Why don't you just quit? It's not like we have any financial issues. Besides…."
She hesitated for a moment. "I've been thinking about getting a part-time job myself."
"That's completely unnecessary," I cut in before she could continue. "You're already swamped. You study hard to stay at the top of your class, you're the president of the student council, you go to cram school, you've got piano lessons, and on top of that, a dozen other things to manage."
"I could just quit piano lessons," she murmured, glancing away.
"Didn't you say you enjoy playing the piano?" I asked, my voice softening.
Her expression faltered, and she nodded slightly. "Yeah, I do."
"Look," I said, leaning forward, "it's not that I'm against you working. It's just too early for you to start. Once you're in high school, sure, go ahead. But right now, focus on everything else you've got going on."
"But you started working when you were in your first year of middle school," she argued, her tone turning grumpy.
"That was different," I countered. "I was working at Bruce's cat café, and honestly? The legal age for work is 15. What Bruce and I were doing back then? Totally illegal."
"Well, I'm 15 now," she shot back, slamming her hands on the table and standing up. "I can do it legally!"
I sighed, trying to keep my tone calm.
"Mika, I started working because I was bored. I'm not a studious person like you. My grades are average at best, so I figured I'd get some experience. With grades like mine, I'll probably end up working in a restaurant or something. But you? You've got so much potential. You don't need to rush into it."
She stared at me, her frustration lingering in her eyes, but I pressed on.
"There's a time for everything. When the right time comes, you'll get your work experience, too. Trust me."
For a moment, she remained standing, her hands still gripping the edge of the table. Then, with a reluctant sigh, she sat back down.
"Okay," she muttered, her tone calmer now.
Crisis averted—for now.
*
After breakfast, I told Mika to head out ahead of me since her school was much farther from home than mine.
"Alright, I'm leaving then," Mika said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
"Go carefully," I replied as I cleared the table.
"Roger that," she called back with a playful salute before stepping out the door.
Once she was gone, I stood up and began washing the plates. The sound of running water filled the quiet kitchen as I scrubbed and rinsed. My thoughts drifted to Mika.
There was no way I'd let her take on a part-time job. She was already pushing herself to the limit, juggling her role as a model student and looking after me on top of it. If she ever found herself with free time, she deserved to rest or hang out with her friends—not waste her energy working. She was at an age where she should be having fun, not piling more responsibilities onto her shoulders.
After washing, drying, and putting away the dishes, I turned off the tap and headed to my room to get ready for school. Just as I reached for my uniform, my phone buzzed.
It was a message from Mom. Curious, I opened it, already guessing what it was about. Sure enough, she'd sent us money.
Staring at the amount, I sighed. "Not enough again," I muttered to myself. "Does she really expect us to just live, breathe, and eat?"
Shaking my head, I shoved the phone into my pocket and turned my attention back to getting dressed. There wasn't much time to dwell on it. Another day of school awaited, whether I was ready for it or not.
*
As I was getting ready for school, my thoughts began to wander, as they often did. This time, they settled on my family—a topic I tried to avoid but could never escape.
There were once four of us. Now, it's hard to say if we can even be called a family anymore.
My mother, Saito Emi, and my former father, Saito Ryuji, were once a happily married couple. The kind you'd think would last forever. But life has a way of unraveling things. My mother, always emotionally fragile, had already been through the trauma of losing both her parents in a car accident. It was a year after that, when I was five and Mika was three, that both of our world shifted.
One night, my mother caught my father in a hotel room with another woman. The betrayal shattered her. My father admitted that he no longer loved her and wanted a divorce. That was the beginning of everything falling apart. The pain it caused my mother was unbearable. After the divorce, she attempted to end her life multiple times. Fortunately, she never succeeded, though she had to be kept under strict supervision.
A month after the divorce, my mother, consumed by her grief, tried to murder Mika while she slept. Mika's face, a near-perfect resemblance to our father's, had driven her to a breaking point. Thankfully, the tight surveillance allowed people to intervene just in time.
My mother was sentenced to seven years in a rehabilitation center, and during that time, Mika and I were left to fend for ourselves with whatever money our father had left us. We weren't wealthy by any means, so the funds ran out. Fortunately, my mother was released early—six years and seven months later—for good behavior.
After her release, she started working in Tokyo, but what exactly she did, I couldn't say. What I did know, though, was that she spent most of the money she earned on alcohol. She'd come home once every six or seven months, drink herself into oblivion, and then disappear again. Luckily, Mika had developed a habit of going to sleep by 9 PM, so she was never around to witness any of it.
As much as I appreciated the money our mother sent, it was never enough anymore. Mika was so talented—an incredible student—and I wanted to give her everything she deserved. I wanted her to learn anything she wanted—piano, orchestra, languages, anything. I wanted her to go to a top high school and eventually a prestigious university. And for that, I needed to provide for her in ways I couldn't seem to manage.
My mother had already suffered enough. The emotional scars she carried were deep, and I didn't want to add to them by asking for more. I just wanted her to live her life, free from the burden of our needs. I only wanted her to be herself, to find whatever peace she could. And for Mika's sake, I'd do everything I could to give her a future that was better than the past we'd been given.
As for my father, he remarried and moved to America. He took care of us for a few years after our mother was sent to rehabilitation, but over time, we lost touch with him. This house—the one we still live in—was the last thing he left us.
I'm not even sure if Mika remembers our father, or if she knows about the time our mother tried to hurt her when she was only three. The thought of bringing it up makes me uneasy, and honestly, I'm scared to ask her. I want to protect her from all the brokenness, the chaos that still haunts our family.
She deserves to stay far away from it all—far away from the fractured remnants of what was once our family. I want to shield her from the scars, the memories that still linger in the shadows of this house. She should never have to carry that burden.
*
After locking the front door behind me, I began my walk to school. As I passed by the nearby park, I noticed two women with their children, chatting away. The moment they saw me, they fell into a quiet, subtle conversation, their eyes flickering with curiosity. I couldn't hear the words, but I knew exactly what they were talking about. The looks they gave me were all too familiar—pity, concern, abhorrence, and that unmistakable hint of curiosity.
It's a look I've seen too many times, from too many people. People who don't know, yet think they understand.
I ignored it, as I always did, and continued on my way to school.
Along the route, I passed several students from my school, greeting each other with smiles and chatter. As for me? I had no one to greet. No one to call a friend.
It's not that I'm a hardcore introvert or anything. I'm perfectly capable of talking to people, of holding a normal conversation. So why don't I have any friends, you might ask?
Well, I wasn't always this way. When I was five, I had friends—real friends. Back before everything fell apart. But after the incident with my family, things changed. The other kids in my class began avoiding me, casting curious glances in my direction, whispering behind their hands. And even when someone did speak to me, it was always about my parents—about my mother, about my father—and all those sensitive topics I had no interest in revisiting.
Middle school was no different. High school isn't any better. So, I learned to keep my distance. I don't allow myself to get too comfortable with people. It's easier this way. Less painful. Less complicated.
*
After walking for about ten minutes, I finally arrived at Suou High School, a fairly typical school, nothing special. As I entered the school grounds, I spotted a familiar figure up ahead—a sight I couldn't easily ignore. It was none other than the Crimson Demon Princess herself, Tadashi Lily.
From behind, I could make out her long, sleek black hair, the kind that seemed to absorb all light around it. There was a red flower ornament perched delicately at the center of her head, completing her regal appearance.
I couldn't help but watch her for a moment, my mind wandering. But just as I was absorbed in the sight, she suddenly glanced over her shoulder. Instinctively, I turned my gaze elsewhere with lightning speed, but not before I saw the smirk tug at the corner of her lips. She didn't look away right away. Instead, she held her gaze for a moment longer, a knowing, almost taunting expression on her face.
The unsettling feeling that crept into my chest only deepened as I made my way to class. I sat down at my desk by the window, my thoughts swirling around that moment. Something wasn't right. I had a bad feeling about this. The rest of the class went by as usual, uneventful, until the lunch break.
That's when it happened.
"Saito-san, would you be so kind as to spare me some of your time?"
It was Tadashi Lily, her voice sweet, and her smile bright, but there was something about it that didn't sit well with me.
Though we had already talked yesterday after school, she once again invited me to chat, her polite, yet undeniably demonic smile lingered, a silent warning that if I didn't accept, it would be over for me.
On the other hand, the entire classroom fell into stunned silence. All eyes were on her. The Princess—Tadashi Lily, the untouchable queen of the school—was speaking to me.
I could also hardly believe it. I gazed at Tadashi Lily in disbelief, her eyes locking with mine as she offered a smile that, though polite, held an unmistakable edge of something sinister beneath its surface.