"Mom, I really have to hand it to you."
"I'm going back to my room to change."
After finishing up Sayuri Sawamura's meticulous grooming, it was already noon.
Feeling mentally exhausted, Akira waved his hand dismissively and turned to slip through the secret passage inside the wardrobe.
Returning to his own room, he quickly changed into his usual outfit—a plain white T-shirt and white jeans.
Over it, he wore a black zip-up work jacket, feeling refreshed as he stepped out of his room.
From today onward, he had truly stepped into adulthood.
Just as he left his room, he bumped into Eriri, whose messy blonde hair was sticking up in every direction.
Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and she yawned every few moments.
Akira's dark eyes flashed with a hint of guilt, but upon seeing her current state, he couldn't help but comment:
"Eriri, you're the living embodiment of every negative stereotype about hardcore otakus."
"Damn you, Akira!"
"The first thing you do when you see me is talk shit about me?"
Eriri rubbed her sleepy eyes and mumbled.
"But whatever."
"Since I've already exposed myself as an otaku in front of you, there's no point in hiding it anymore."
"If I have to act all prim and proper even at home—like I do at school, where I play the perfect, flawless rich girl—"
"Then what was the point of my confession?"
She spoke righteously.
"You might want to check the time—it's already noon."
"Akira, are you seriously unaware that otaku have inverted sleep schedules?"
"For me, noon is early morning."
"Eriri, why do you sound so damn proud of saying that?"
Akira sighed as he ruffled his little otaku sister's hair, exasperated.
Not long ago, she had still been trying to keep up the act of being a 'normal' girl around him.
Now that her cover was blown, she had completely given up pretending.
"What, got a problem with it?"
With a smug look, Eriri swatted his hand away.
Last night, she had spent hours agonizing over a plan to make Akira fall for her first, playing dating sims for inspiration.
But after pulling an all-nighter and failing to come up with anything, she finally gave up.
Why bother scheming?
That scumbag brother of hers had already promised he wouldn't leave this house for the rest of his life.
As long as she stayed here, it was only a matter of time.
No need to rush.
No matter what, she would always be the closest one to Akira.
That didn't mean she'd give him any special treatment, though.
He was still the same playboy big brother as before.
"Mom, what's for lunch today?"
Sayuri had already made her way downstairs ahead of them, lazily lounging on the leather sofa in the living room.
She absentmindedly chewed on a small bread roll while scrolling through her phone.
"I just woke up too."
"If you're asking me, who the hell am I supposed to ask?"
"Mom, you've got no right to criticize me!"
"You're just as much of an otaku as I am!"
Eriri plopped down beside her mom, pulling out her phone as well.
"And now you're trying to boss me around?"
Sayuri lightly smacked Eriri's head.
Akira, watching the two identical couch potatoes curled up on the sofa, couldn't help but sigh at their matching postures.
"Where's our chef?"
"He went back to London with your dad."
"He's British—also a top-class chef."
"No matter where he goes, he'll always be in demand."
"The only reason he worked as our private chef for so many years was out of loyalty to your dad."
Akira glanced at the mother-daughter duo, both lounging with their phones in hand, and twitched at the sheer absurdity of it all.
"Let's just heat up last night's leftovers."
"That should be enough."
"Akira, I'll leave that difficult task to you, then."
"By the way, your grandmother gave me strict orders—"
"I have to bring you back home tonight."
"She's throwing you a grand welcome party to celebrate your return from studying in China."
"Mom, does Grandma really need to make such a big deal out of it?"
"Your line about 'To be loyal to both Buddha and love is impossible' spread like wildfire overnight."
"It's now gone viral across the entire kazoku social circle."
"And it's spreading even faster throughout Japan's literary scene."
"You have no idea how many people want to meet the 'young literary genius' in person—the 'poetry prodigy' of this era."
Pfft!
Before Akira could even react, Eriri burst out laughing.
"Mom, you've gotta be kidding me!"
"That one line of poetry had that much impact?"
"Eriri, Japanese poetry is rooted in ancient Chinese influences."
"If you translate it into Japanese, it loses its original cadence and elegance."
"Only those who truly understand the Chinese language can appreciate the beauty within it."
"Since ancient times, Japan has had a deep-rooted appreciation for mono no aware—the transience of beauty."
"That one verse you recited struck a chord deep within the Japanese cultural psyche."
Eriri blinked, completely lost.
Mom, what the hell are you talking about?
She had no clue about any of this.
How was a half-Japanese girl like her supposed to grasp the profound depths of Japanese literary heritage?
This was way out of her league.
"So you're saying Akira is about to become a literary master?"
"I remember all of Japan's literary greats were absolute scumbags—total scum of the earth."
Eriri gave Akira a look of pure disdain.
What a coincidence.
Her brother just so happened to be an incorrigible playboy himself.
"I'm gonna go heat up the food."
"Eriri, go wash your hair and take a shower."
"And put on something decent for once."
"Even from here, I can smell the oil in your hair."
Sayuri wrinkled her nose in disgust and gave her daughter a firm order.
Hahahaha!
From the kitchen, the sound of an unrestrained laugh echoed.
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