Chapter 95: The Entrance Hall

Without step-by-step guidance, no matter how many nights one stays up studying, the mind becomes muddled as the practical exam approaches.

Self-study simply won't do; otherwise, what’s the use of a teacher?

Under the boy’s comforting embrace, the girl gradually regained composure, yet the tear stains at the corner of her eyes still stirred a deep, tender sympathy.

The girl, after all, had become a woman.

On this night, an unsettled night, everything happened abruptly, yet naturally and inevitably, requiring no words.

It was as if both had sensed something upon returning home—no persuasion, no temptation—just a quiet, ordinary intimacy, like any typical young couple.

In the living room, the clock ticked relentlessly, “tick, tock,” while occasional strange sounds echoed from the bedroom—bashful sounds. Thankfully, the moon was long hidden behind clouds, no need to hide anything deliberately.

After a long while, Haruhi Genya lay sprawled on the bed, his face calm and ethereal, a strand of golden hair brushing the corner of his lips. Miss Kiyolyo curled up in his sturdy arms like a little kitten, obedient and clingy.

“Let’s take a shower and then sleep,” Haruhi said after a moment, feeling sticky and uncomfortable.

Just moments ago, when they were tightly embracing, it hadn’t felt this way.

“Hmm.” Kiyolyo Meirong didn’t speak, humming softly in Haruhi’s arms, curling herself closer.

At this stage, girls are extremely sensitive inside, needing constant care and companionship from their boys; even Miss Kiyolyo was no exception.

Haruhi shook his head helplessly, stood up, and with a surprised cry from the girl, swept her up into a princess carry toward the bathroom. No other choice—they had sweat so much, it would be unbearable to sleep without a shower.

“You shameless scoundrel!” Kiyolyo Meirong snapped back to herself, punching his broad shoulder twice. Right now, their state was that of Adam and Eve—a sacrifice for the sake of art!

Haruhi grinned, alone in their rented room, no one else around. They’d just have to undress and dress again—what a hassle.

This was fine—free and comfortable!

Yet, Haruhi had underestimated Miss Kiyolyo’s charm and overestimated his own willpower.

Before they even reached the bathroom, just at the entrance hall, Haruhi suddenly blurted out, “Kiyolyo-san, don’t do this. I’m really afraid of hurting you.”

His steps faltered; his gaze fixed straight ahead, body stiffening, yet the heat between them only intensified.

“Huh?” The girl in his arms blinked, bewildered.

“What did I do? Don’t scare me!” Her delicate, beautiful face bore a big question mark. Her slender, long legs dangled quietly, toes curled together, painted in bright red nail polish—adorably cute. Haruhi’s sudden words had rendered her motionless.

“Some people, just by sitting still, cause others to slip up. Sorry, Kiyolyo-san. I’ll help you take the day off tomorrow morning.”

Haruhi didn’t answer her question; instead, he bent down and kissed her rosy lips.

???

Kiyolyo Meirong felt invaded, eyes widening involuntarily.

In truth, Haruhi had simply failed to restrain his emotions, or rather, had never intended to.

Her delicate feet touched the wooden floor. After being carried and protected, the young lady was now left to face the world’s storms alone.

Her slender arms rested on the shoe cabinet, like two fragile cherry blossom saplings outside, battered by the storm, swaying perilously as if on the verge of collapse.

The rain grew heavier, the wind mercilessly howling. The two cherry blossom trunks bent under the pressure, drenched, blossoms clinging to branches.

Alas, the beauty was fleeting. The saplings succumbed to the storm that night, scattering their blossoms—a poignant, tragic scene.

Haruhi stood at the entrance, legs slightly bent, facing the iron door. Classic.

On the second floor of the apartment building, outside the window, the storm raged. Hurricanes mixed with rain pounded the glass; even through the window, the chill was palpable.

Despite the chaos outside, inside the home was warm and inviting. In the open kitchen, the gas stove flickered with a faint blue-violet flame, gently caressing the ceramic pot’s bottom.

The black pot bubbled, steam hissing as it pressed against the lid.

Eri Momotani, apron tied at her waist, chopped vegetables with rhythmic precision. White and green scallions fell in neat circles, her face soft with a gentle smile, relaxed and carefree.

She hummed an old Japanese folk tune, slipped on thick gloves, lifted the pot lid, and ladled a portion of golden broth, its rich aroma rising.

Puckering her rosy lips, she blew lightly on the spoon, watching the shimmering ripples dance on the broth’s surface. An excellent dish must not only taste wonderful but also be visually appealing.

She sipped the soup and nodded in satisfaction. Finally, she scattered the chopped scallions into the pot, stirred gently, and turned off the heat.

Gazing at the droplets splashing on the glass, she muttered, “Those two kids must have just finished their shower and not yet asleep. I’ll bring them a bowl of this nourishing soup. Hopefully, it won’t disturb them.”

Momotani had messaged Haruhi earlier but hadn’t received a reply, making her hesitate despite her resolve.

Looking at the ready-to-serve broth, she decided to go downstairs herself. If Haruhi and Kiyolyo were asleep, she’d keep the soup for breakfast. After all, she and little Umi couldn’t finish so much on their own.

With that in mind, she began ladling the soup into a thermal container.

The aroma quickly filled the room.

“Umi, I made some nourishing soup. Remember to drink it. Mom’s stepping out for a bit.”

After sealing the container, Momotani called softly at the closed bedroom door, donned a raincoat, and stepped outside.

The harsh wind and rain immediately swept in as she opened the door, scattering droplets across the polished wooden floor.

The howling wind sounded as if it wanted to overturn the world itself that night.

Biting her lip, Momotani braved the storm.

The outside world was in turmoil.

This was a rather remote area of Tokyo, where street lamps flickered inconsistently. The downpour blurred vision, but Momotani keenly noticed the two cherry blossom saplings she had planted recently had fallen in the storm.

No time to grieve, she hurried down the dimly lit outdoor corridor.

As she descended the stairs, exposed to the elements, she felt as if doused by a bucket of water from head to toe.

Though futile, she instinctively shielded the fragile thermal container, stepping cautiously downward.

The howling wind separated her from the world, the rain tapping on her thin raincoat like a relentless drumbeat. The coat offered little protection; she felt her clothes beneath were soaked.

Finally reaching the covered hallway on the first floor, she sighed with relief. Though the wind still blew sideways, it was bearable.

Shaking off water droplets, Momotani approached the iron gate of the rental unit, her delicate, peach-blossom-like features glancing at the container in her hand. She knocked gently twice.

Moments passed with no response; her brows furrowed slightly, eyes clouded with unspoken disappointment.

Yet, as the landlord, she held a key.

Inside, Haruhi and Kiyolyo suddenly stiffened, the atmosphere turning tense as both looked toward the door.

They had heard the knock and stood frozen.

Haruhi’s mind reeled—could the entrance hall truly be cursed?

One touch and it shatters?

Though thrilling, he knew better than to let it happen.

Quickly recovering, he realized the door was locked; no need to worry.

Could the other side possibly pull out a key?

Signaling Kiyolyo to be quiet, Haruhi took two slow steps back. Without support, the young lady collapsed, but Haruhi caught her swiftly.

In her plaintive gaze, he gently helped her up.

With a careless grin, they retreated to the bedroom.

“No, no, I’m going to sleep. I’m tired.”

“Oh, beautiful Kiyolyo-san, going to bed so early? Play a bit more!”

“I said no! I haven’t settled with you yet. How dare you in the entrance just now! Wait till tomorrow, I’ll make you pay!”

“I was doing it for you, wasn’t I?”

“For my sake? If you say it was for my experience, I’ll strangle you right now!”

“We really are in sync, Kiyolyo-san~”

“You’re such a scoundrel!”

Though initially displeased, the proud young lady’s mood softened under Haruhi’s persistent affection.

His kisses on her cheeks reignited their unfinished business.

Outside, the knocking ceased; the visitor gave up.

Momotani waited a while longer by the door, then walked away, her heart heavy.

Had they fallen asleep so early? Though she had the key, it was strictly for emergencies—not to invade tenants’ privacy.

Looking at the thermal container, specially chosen for young people, it was a pity it went undelivered.

Back on the second floor, the living room remained empty, unchanged since she left. Momotani shed her raincoat, her white TI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.