"Onee-chan, it feels like they've gotten bigger again?"
"Really? I guess so… but I don't think it's enough to change sizes just yet."
"No rush, Onee-chan. My technique definitely works—personally tested and proven. Just give it a little more time, and I'll be able to wear a bra myself."
"…"
"Komaba, maybe we should redo this room's interior. The soundproofing still isn't good enough."
Standing about half a meter from the parlor door, Harumura Makoto and Komaba Ritoku exchanged glances.
Such ferocious words—thank goodness he hadn't barged in directly.
Otherwise, who knew what kind of scene he'd have walked in on.
"So what do we do now, Boss?"
Even Komaba Ritoku, this burly man, was uncharacteristically awkward.
If it had been a man inside, or just some other woman, with how protective Komaba was of Fremea, he would've stormed in to break it up already.
The problem was—the one inside was Fremea's older sister.
And judging by the conversation, the one taking the lead didn't seem to be her sister, but Frenda herself.
That left Komaba completely unsure of what to do.
"Forget it, I'll go."
Harumura Makoto sighed helplessly, placing his hand on the doorknob as if to pull it open and step inside.
But Komaba reached out, gripping Makoto's shoulder.
"Boss… isn't that a bit much?"
"So what, you gonna go in there and call them out instead?"
Makoto gave him a half-lidded look, sounding weary.
"I—"
Komaba faltered, and Makoto used the moment to pry his hand off and shove him aside.
Click—
The lock turned, and Makoto pulled the door open in one smooth motion.
The sounds inside stopped instantly, and his gaze fell on the two figures tangled together on the couch.
With them twisted up like that, it was impossible to clearly see the face of the girl pinned beneath Fremea.
But he could make out two slender legs wrapped in black stockings, and long golden hair with slight waves spilling loosely over the cushions.
A blue beret lay discarded at the edge of the couch.
Fremea was straddling her sister's waist, both small hands slipped under the back hem of her clothes, seemingly groping for something.
The position had hiked up her sister's top, revealing a glimpse of pale skin and a hint of blue fabric beneath.
Makoto stayed perfectly calm despite the suggestive scene.
"If you're going to fool around, at least be mindful of the place. This room's soundproofing isn't great. And when you've fixed your clothes, come to my office. Fremea's sister—you've got business with me, don't you?"
Having said his piece, Makoto left like a hero who had finished his task, keeping his fame hidden.
Taking the elevator, he strolled back to his office, leisurely retrieving the special, unknown coffee beans Shokuhou Misaki had gifted him over the past few days.
He poured them into the coffee machine and began grinding.
Thanks to his recent interactions with the real rich young lady, Hokaze Junko, Makoto had picked up a pretty decent brewing technique.
As for why he hadn't learned from Shokuhou Misaki… well, those who know, know.
About ten minutes passed.
Makoto was seated on the sofa, with two cups of freshly brewed coffee filling the air with a rich aroma, one placed on each side of the table.
"They should be about done by now."
He took a sip, inwardly admiring his own handiwork, eyes drifting toward the closed door.
Click—
The sound of the door opening came right on cue. First through the doorway appeared a face swollen like a pig's head.
Hm. No matter how you looked at it, it was a familiar pig's head.
"Komaba?"
"Yes, Boss."
The muffled reply carried a hint of suppressed anger.
"Miss Frenda Seivelun has been brought."
Clearly not in the mood to talk much, Komaba stepped aside, allowing the small figure behind him to enter before shutting the door.
"Still sulking at me, huh."
Makoto chuckled, shaking his head, and turned his gaze to the petite, slender girl with fluffy golden hair, blue eyes, a beret topping her cute British-style outfit, and long black socks.
"You're Fremea's sister? Have a seat. I hear you wanted to see me."
The beret-wearing blonde seemed perfectly at ease. Hearing him, she stepped lightly to the sofa opposite and sat down, extending a small hand.
"—Frenda Seivelun! Fremea's sister, thank you for looking after her."
She looked young—small in stature and somewhat childlike in appearance—but carried herself without any trace of immaturity.
That was Makoto's first impression of the girl named Frenda.
"Alright, let's get straight to the point. I'm not sure what business you have with me, but under normal circumstances, aside from Fremea, we really shouldn't have much contact. Your past behavior has backed that up."
Taking another sip of coffee, Makoto was now fully in business mode.
He was right—whether back in Skill-Out or now in Leo, Frenda had always acted like she wanted nothing to do with them.
She had no issue entrusting her sister to them, but when it came to visits, she never came to their base.
Instead, she'd have Makoto or Komaba deliver her sister to a designated spot.
Even the living expenses she provided went directly to Frenda, who then passed them on to the group.
Not that Makoto or Komaba had ever taken a yen—after all this time, that untouched sum had grown into something truly formidable.
All the signs pointed to the same thing—
Frenda wanted no connection with an armed Level 0 group, keeping her distance deliberately.
And they were fine with that—Fremea's sister was clearly no ordinary person, and the mutual arrangement suited them both.
"I know," Frenda said, "but the situation's changed."