"I'm going to study magic. Fern has been bugging me about it lately," Frieren said, her voice uncharacteristically flustered as she turned away quickly.
Her fair cheeks were faintly tinged with red—a rare sight for an elf of her stature. Before Nozomi could respond, she dashed off, almost as if running from her own emotions.
Nozomi watched her go, blinking.
Was she… shy?
Now that was unexpected.
Frieren, the elegant, cold-as-ice high elf and master-level magician, actually showing vulnerability—because of him?
He smirked to himself.
Honesty really was the ultimate technique.
With a few hours to spare before dinner, Nozomi took out the stack of magic cards Frieren had prepared. They were thin, sleek, and embedded with runes that shimmered faintly when touched—perfectly tailored for daily use.
He moved from room to room, handing them out like a modern-day protector bestowing charms of defense.
"Here, keep this behind your phone case," he told Mahiru, Sayu, Sakurajima Mai, Mashiro, and even Chihiro-senpai.
Since mobile phones were always close at hand, Frieren had cleverly designed the cards to be the same size as a typical phone accessory. They could blend in with normal life, yet activate immediately in the face of danger. A passive protective barrier, triggered by imminent threat—genius.
Some girls accepted the gift with warm smiles. Others, like Sayu, blushed slightly. Mahiru gently thanked him. Sakurajima Mai, being away for a film shoot, would get hers later. Nozomi would give it to her the next time she visited. For now, he was content knowing she had Yukinoshita Haruno watching over her on set. The production company was under Yukinoshita Haruno's name, after all—Mai would be treated like a queen.
Maybe… maybe he could even talk her into doing a live-action Magical Girl film. Sure, live-action sometimes butchered source material, but that depended on the actress. And Sakurajima Mai? She could absolutely pull it off.
By the time the sun dipped behind the hills, casting a warm amber glow across Sakurasou, Nozomi had eaten and was just lounging in his room, debating whether to go look for Sayu or Mahiru. Maybe Misaki-senpai was free too—she'd never say no to a random "training session," whatever that meant to her.
Knock knock.
A soft sound at the door. Nozomi stood up, curious.
"Coming—"
He opened the door—and froze.
It was Shiina Mashiro.
Wearing a loose, suspender dress with her golden hair cascading freely, she stood silently at the doorway, her expression calm as always. But what caused Nozomi's heart to skip a beat was the unmistakable realization that…
She wasn't wearing anything underneath.
He quickly averted his eyes, bringing a hand to his nose on instinct. Not now, you traitorous imagination.
"Mashiro? It's pretty late. Something up?"
Mashiro gave a small nod. "Yes. I have something to talk about."
With that, she stepped into his room, sat quietly on the edge of his bed, then lightly patted the space beside her with her small, pale hand.
"Nozomi. Sit."
He hesitated, swallowed hard, then closed the door behind him and sat beside her.
The next moment, he felt something warm and soft against his arm.
Mashiro leaned in and gently wrapped her arms around his, pressing her body lightly against him. Her soft, developing figure, delicate and warm, sent a wave of tingling nerves through Nozomi's spine.
Yet he didn't linger on the physical. Her expression… she looked troubled.
"Mashiro," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You seem off. What's wrong?"
Her eyes dropped slightly.
"…Rita said she's here to take Mashiro back."
Nozomi blinked. "Back? To England?"
Mashiro gave a small nod, then went silent.
Without thinking, Nozomi reached out, picked her up gently, and settled her in his lap like a precious treasure.
"No way. That's not happening," he said firmly. "You're part of Sakurasou now. No one's taking you away—not Rita, not your family, no one."
Mashiro leaned her head softly against his chest, exhaling with relief.
"Nozomi… you're so nice."
"I don't want to go back," she whispered. "I don't want to be stuck in that room, painting for them. Mashiro already made her debut… as a manga artist. I want to keep going."
Though she often came off as emotionless and innocent, Mashiro understood more than most gave her credit for. Rita wasn't just a concerned friend—she was a representative of her family's will.
They wanted Mashiro to keep producing internationally recognized art, to build the Shiina legacy, to live out their expectations.
But none of that was what Mashiro herself wanted.
She wanted to draw manga. To tell stories. Even if the road was hard, even if others scoffed at her for shifting paths.
"Don't worry," Nozomi said, holding her tighter. "As long as I'm here, you're not going anywhere."
Mashiro didn't respond right away. She simply closed her eyes, her breathing soft and steady.
But then…
"What if… Rita doesn't give up?" she asked.
Nozomi smirked. "Then we'll just have to make her stay too."
Mashiro blinked. "Eh?"
"If Rita stays at Sakurasou, she won't be able to take you away, right? Problem solved."
Of course, Nozomi had zero intention of letting the Shiina family push Mashiro around. He was sure they'd already looked into him by now—and the fact they hadn't moved yet meant they were either hesitant or cautious.
And with Frieren around? Even a demon lord wouldn't make him flinch.
Call it arrogant if you like. But when you have power… why not use it?
Mashiro's eyes lit up at his words. She sat up slightly in his lap, beaming.
"Okay. Nozomi, then let's keep Rita too!"
He nodded. "Deal. We'll win her over together."
"…But it's late now," he added with a playful glint in his eyes. "Mashiro, shouldn't we do something to help digest dinner?"
Nozomi gave a sly grin, the kind you'd see on a mischievous wolf eyeing its next snack. Shiina Mashiro, unamused, puffed out her cheeks and reached over to pinch both sides of his face.
"Don't smile like that. It doesn't suit you."
"Ugh—" Nozomi froze, his confident expression crumbling like glass.
She really said that? That it didn't look good?
"So... how should I smile then?" he asked, mock offended.
Mashiro blinked slowly, her voice calm. "Like just now. Gentler... more Nozomi."
Looks like Mashiro preferred the kind of smile that warms your heart rather than sets it on fire.
"Alright, alright. For you, I'll be a gentle big bad wolf."
Nozomi gently raised his hand, ruffling her soft, golden hair. It shimmered under the dim light like strands of sunlight.
"Mashiro, do you want something yummy before bed?"
Mashiro looked up at him, her pale cheeks turning a subtle pink. Being treated so gently—by him—filled her chest with something she couldn't quite describe. It was… warm. Like standing in sunlight after a cold day.
"Yes," she replied, voice barely above a whisper.
— Later, after feeding her some "milk" and making sure she was tucked in like a snug cat curled up in a kotatsu, Nozomi tiptoed up to the third floor.
— Meanwhile, Mai Sakurajima stirred from her sleep, heat curling around her like summer air. Her brows furrowed as she opened her eyes—only to find a certain someone lying beside her, lips smug, eyes a little too pleased.
"Pervert!" she hissed.
Nozomi didn't even flinch. Instead, he shamelessly pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her neck with exaggerated tenderness.
"I've missed your scent," he murmured. "Vanilla and moonlight."
"You're committing a crime," Mai grumbled, flustered, though her fists against his chest lacked force.
She liked him—ugh, she hated that she liked him—and now here he was, sneaking into her bed like it was some sort of harem anime cliché.
"I just came for a hug. You've been so busy with filming again. I couldn't help it."
"Liar," she muttered, turning her face away. "With Mahiru, Sayu, and even Sanshokuin-kouhai hanging off you, what's there to 'help'?"
Nozomi laughed. "But none of them are you, Senpai."
Her heart betrayed her with a flutter.
"Hmph. Why don't you just make me quit and become your personal girlfriend-slash-lover?" she teased sarcastically.
He didn't miss a beat. "That'd be great actually."
"No." Mai's answer was immediate. "Acting is a part of me. It's how I express myself… and I know you secretly like dating an actress. Don't lie."
He grinned. "Caught red-handed."
To be honest, having someone as dazzling as Sakurajima Mai by his side did stroke his ego. The whole "famous beauty falls for mysterious transfer student" thing was straight out of a manga. And he was living it.
He tightened his arms around her slim waist.
"Then, Senpai, you'll have to bear with me tonight."
Mai's cheeks flared crimson. She pressed her hand against his chest. "Move again and I swear I'll break your—tools!"
"Threatening me now?" Nozomi chuckled. "So scary~"
He knew she wasn't serious. These moments—snuck between filming and study and magical madness—were how they stayed close. A thread of connection tied in the dark.
Mai's protests melted as she leaned against him. His body was warm, steady.
Safe.
Maybe that was why everyone in Sakurasou was naturally drawn to him.
Once, she'd thought she was vanishing—fading from the world like a forgotten shadow. That terrifying emptiness… she never wanted to feel that again.
But in her lowest moment, when she put on the bunny suit and tested the laws of existence itself… he saw her. Truly saw her.
Eyes full of fire and longing. Like a storybook encounter.
Maybe a little too storybook. After all, he was definitely no prince.
But he was Nozomi. And he was hers, even if she had to share him with the chaos of their absurd lives.
As sleep gently pulled her under, Mai felt grateful. He hadn't pushed her.
Even though the noise from earlier made it obvious he'd been… busy.
Still, in his arms, she felt treasured.
And that was enough—for now.