Chapter 45: To Delete or Not to Delete?

But the waiting felt agonizingly long—

Her dangling feet, once swaying idly, now hung weakly over the edge of the sofa. She turned her body, staring at the time in the upper right corner of the television.

18:01:58… 18:02:05… 18:02:15…

Time crawled by ever so slowly.

Golden strands clung to the corner of her lips, but Meirong Qingling couldn’t be bothered to brush them away.

Why did this day off feel so utterly joyless?

She thought back to her previous days off. If Mai Hanai and Kanae Terashima were free, the three of them would go shopping together. If her friends were busy, she would spend the whole day alone in the arcade…

She’d managed on her own for so many years, so why was this particular day off so vexing?

She ran her fingers through her messy hair and finally decided to get up and find something to do.

The living room: OK ✓ perfectly clean.
The kitchen: OK ✓ spotless.
The bedroom: OK ✓ tidy as well. (Earlier, when cleaning the living room, she’d somehow ended up mopping the entire house.)

Haruto Harano’s and her own clothes…

Her gaze eventually drifted toward the bathroom, where their dirty laundry still awaited, and, besides that—Haruto Harano’s underwear…

Her cheeks flushed. Well, so what? With nothing else to do, she might as well wash both of their dirty clothes!

As for Haruto’s underwear? What a joke! There’s no way she, the dignified Miss Qingling, would wash that idiot’s underwear!

Ugh! He should be the one washing hers! Yes, if she finished the laundry and he still wasn’t home, tonight she’d punish him by making him wash her lingerie!

Hmph!

The sun had already sunk completely below the horizon, leaving only a streak of crimson at the edge of the sky.

The moon, eager to take over early, hovered faintly in the clear evening sky.

October’s weather was already tinged with chill, and with night closing in, the air grew even colder.

Streetlights along the roads had long since flickered on, and the bustling city gradually slipped into the neon-lit rhythm of nightlife.

Students moved in groups along the road to the karaoke bars, eager to savor the rare holiday.

Of course, there were also those who preferred to stay in, having settled dinner early before retreating to their rooms. After telling their parents not to disturb them because they were “studying,” they locked their doors.

Then, they’d connect their consoles and PSPs, rally their friends, and dive into battles in the virtual world.

Some tall figures walked the streets alone, bundled up in black jackets with hands stuffed in their pockets, heads tucked into collars, wrapping themselves tightly against the cold.

Haruto Harano felt his steps growing unsteady, a hollow ache lingering in his lower back.

Earlier at Kae Yasukawa’s home, although Ms. Yasukawa’s guesses were quite off the mark, explaining the truth would have been even more troublesome. So, to fit his persona, Haruto was “forced” to take quite a few private photos and videos of Kae Yasukawa with his phone.

Naturally, the urban beauty was quite cooperative—not only indulging Haruto’s requests, but even suggesting they spice things up a bit. However, it was Haruto’s first time, and he was still a little reserved.

The tamest shots showed Kae Yasukawa standing demurely in her clothes.

The raciest hinted at her youthful allure, revealing just enough to tease.

In short, the upper and lower bounds were both quite extreme.

There was time yet—slow and steady, there would be more chances in the future.

Arriving at the station, Haruto kept his head down, fingers switching back and forth between his photo album and an online shopping site.

Two voices warred in his mind, each vying for control.

White-Haruto, with a glowing LED halo overhead: You’re a decent man with no such inclinations; you only went along to avoid trouble. Hurry up and delete them!

That seemed reasonable, so Haruto opened the album, ready to erase the evidence.

But then Black-Haruto, sporting two sets of devilish horns: You took these with your own effort—why delete them? Not only should you keep them, you ought to get Kae Yasukawa more outfits to try on.

That sounded convincing, too, so Haruto switched back to the shopping site.

White-Haruto: Don’t do this, we’re supposed to—

Before he could finish, Black-Haruto’s pitchfork punctured him, dissolving him into a puff of white smoke.

“Nonsense! Are you even a man?!”

Haruto shook his head, and in the end, decided to move the photos to a separate album, password-protecting both the album and his camera.

Just then, the train rumbled into the station. Haruto hunched into his coat and stepped aboard.

His body still felt weak—he really needed to work on his fitness. Just two rounds at Yasukawa’s place had left him exhausted. He couldn’t just rely on his hands and pop some superhuman strength pills, could he?

A good blade should be reserved for formidable foes—better save his strength for Mrs. Uehara.

Lost in thought, the ride passed quickly. It had been a long and busy day. When he got home, he’d still have to cook dinner.

Haruto leaned against his seat, gazing out at the passing scenery.

Streetlights and skyscraper windows cast a gentle white glow, outlining the contours of Tokyo.

Passing through residential areas, the streets brimmed with the lively warmth of izakayas. For most Japanese adults, the real day began after work—this was when they could finally set aside their job concerns.

Young men and middle-aged bachelors alike gathered to drink and chatter in the pubs.

They gossiped about the pretty new intern at the company.

The thought of having to cook again made Haruto’s head ache. He decided he’d have to teach that freeloading Meirong how to make dinner one of these days.

Ding!

The train soon arrived at his stop.

Haruto’s neighborhood was a bit out of the way; the streets were already deserted, with only the faint glow from apartment windows illuminating the night.

…

“Heave-ho,”

“Heave-ho,”

“Heave-ho!”

At last, when Meirong Qingling hung the final piece of laundry on the balcony, she nodded in satisfaction at her handiwork.

Only Haruto Harano’s underwear remained in the washbasin.

After a brief internal struggle, seeing that he had not yet returned, she walked over and picked up the basin.

“I’ll just soak them for him, no way I’m actually washing that idiot’s underwear.”

She bent down, but somehow her small hand slipped into the basin, brushing against the unfamiliar fabric.

“Huh?”

Her cheeks immediately flushed.

As if compelled by some invisible force, she picked up the cloth.

What’s really the difference between boys’ and girls’ underwear? Meirong Qingling wondered, spreading the elephant-patterned briefs in midair, her head tilted in curiosity and her mind wandering.

Click!

Just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed from the door.

Meirong Qingling instinctively turned to look.

“I’m home!”

Haruto Harano stepped inside. As he closed the door, he paused—his gaze landing on Miss Meirong, standing on the little balcony off the living room.