Riku woke to the sound of his own groan.
The blanket was tangled around his legs like a shroud, and his neck ached from how he'd twisted during the night. His first conscious thought wasn't about breakfast or bills, but the blue glow hovering in front of his vision.
[Conquest Progress: 10%.]
[Time Remaining: 44 Hours.]
He rubbed his eyes. The numbers didn't vanish.
"Forty-four hours," he muttered hoarsely. His tongue felt like sandpaper. "Ten percent down, fifteen more to go for stage one." He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "At this rate, I'll be ash before the weekend."
The system pulsed as if mocking him, reminding him that the countdown wouldn't stop for pity.
Riku dragged himself upright, grabbed the nearest semi-clean hoodie, and shuffled out the door. Maybe if he pretended hard enough that it was a normal morning, the nightmare hanging in his vision would feel less real.
The sound reached him before he saw her.
Junko's voice—sharp, irritated—echoed down the hallway. But this time, it wasn't aimed at him.
"No, I told you already. I don't have the time—or the money—for that. If you cared so much, you would've stayed. You don't get to walk away and then call me with demands."
Riku froze mid-step, heart hammering against his ribs. She was near the stairwell, phone pressed against her ear, a broom tucked under her arm as if she'd been cleaning while arguing. Her jaw was tight, her brows furrowed, but beneath the hard shell there was something else—something brittle.
"I said don't call me again if all you're going to do is complain." She jabbed the end call button so hard it echoed in the stairwell. For a moment, she stood perfectly still, the broom still tucked against her side, her lips pressed together. Then she exhaled sharply and resumed sweeping, as if nothing had cracked.
But Riku had seen it.
The flash of loneliness. The exhaustion. The woman behind the armor.
The system pulsed again.
[Opportunity Detected: Emotional Breakthrough possible.]
Riku stiffened. Wait, that counts? He swallowed, staring at her from the corner of the hall. For the first time, Junko wasn't just "the scary landlady with the iron tongue." She was… human.
He retreated quickly before she could catch him watching, thoughts spinning.
The chance came later that afternoon.
Junko returned from the market with arms overloaded—three bulging plastic bags in one hand, another dangling from her elbow. She struggled with the front gate, muttering curses under her breath as the groceries shifted dangerously.
Riku spotted her from the stairwell. His first instinct was to duck back into his apartment and pretend he hadn't seen anything. But the memory of her phone call, the timer ticking down in his head, and the system's cruel patience all coiled together in his chest.
Before he could stop himself, his feet were moving.
"Let me help," he blurted, jogging down the steps.
Junko glanced up, surprise flashing across her face. "What?"
"I'll carry those." He grabbed two of the heaviest bags before she could argue.
For a second, she looked like she might snap at him out of habit. But instead, she exhaled and muttered, "Fine. Don't drop anything."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, Riku struggling not to buckle under the weight of unfamiliar groceries. Junko's expression had softened, just barely—her shoulders less rigid, her frown less sharp.
Ding!
The system chimed.
[Conquest Progress +5%.]
[Target Mood: Slightly Softened.]
Riku nearly stumbled. He bit back a grin, covering it with a cough.
'So that's it…' he thought, stealing a glance at her. It's not just about stealing touches. 'It's about… effort. Willing effort.'
The realization sank deep. For once, the system wasn't rewarding accidents or panic. It was rewarding his choice.
Riku straightened under the weight of the bags, his chest tightening—not just with dread this time, but with something like determination.
The bags were finally set down. Riku flexed his aching arms, half-expecting his muscles to rip in protest. He'd never carried that much weight in his life, and it showed.
Junko adjusted the keys in her hand, shifting them between her fingers with that effortless air of someone who'd been managing everything alone for far too long. The apartment hallway was quiet, save for the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights above. The silence between them was heavier than the groceries had been.
Riku swallowed. His nerves were shredded, the quest timer still burned behind his eyelids like an execution date.
"Uh…" he blurted, instantly regretting opening his mouth. His brain scrambled for something, anything that wouldn't make him sound like a lunatic. "So… um. Nice weather today?"
It was late evening, the sky still dripping from the earlier drizzle. Junko raised an eyebrow at him, her lips quirking in a way that wasn't quite a smile, wasn't quite annoyance.
His pulse thundered. The words slipped out before his survival instincts could smother them.
"I—I don't know what I'm doing!" he hissed under his breath, then—almost without realizing it—leaned in.
His lips brushed hers.
For a heartbeat, the world froze. Junko's eyes widened, the keys jangling in her hand as if time itself had forgotten how to move.
And then reality crashed back. Riku jerked away as if burned.
"I-I'm sorry!" he stammered, nearly tripping over his own feet. His ears blazed red, his hands flailing helplessly. "I don't know what I was thinking, I—just—forget it ever happened!"
He bowed deeply, refusing to look into her eyes, afraid of what he might see there. "I'm sorry. I really am!"
He braced himself for the explosion—for the venom, the verbal slap, maybe even a physical one.
But it didn't come.
Instead, Junko chuckled softly.
The sound was light, almost disbelieving. She shook her head, her hair brushing against her cheek as she tilted it. Her gaze softened, not in mockery but in… something warmer.
"Don't worry about it," she said, voice quiet but edged with amusement. "You're bolder than you look."
Riku blinked, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "W-what?"
And before he could process, Junko leaned forward.
This time, her lips pressed against his deliberately, slowly, lingering. Not a stolen brush, but a choice.
Riku's heart stuttered violently in his chest, the shock nearly sending him backward. His shaking and uncertain hands slid up her sides, tracing the curve of her waist.
Her body stiffened briefly when his palms cupped her breasts through the fabric of her blouse. A soft gasp slipped from her, but she didn't push him away. Her cheeks were faintly red when she finally pulled back, eyes avoiding his for a fraction of a second.
Riku's lungs refused to work.
And then the system exploded.
[Conquest Progress +10%.]
[Stage 1 Complete.]
[Reward: +2 Charm.]
[Reward: 72 Additional Hours Granted.]
The flood of notifications blinded him, the sudden jump of numbers making his head spin. His knees almost buckled beneath the sheer relief and disbelief.
"Holy shit," he whispered, staring at the glowing text. "That… that was—"
"Ahem!" Junko cleared her throat, her composure snapping back into place. She grabbed the bags she'd set down earlier, shooting him a quick glance—half warning, half flustered embarrassment.
"Get some rest," she said briskly. "You look like you'll collapse any second."
And with that, she retreated into her apartment, the door clicking shut behind her.
Riku leaned against the wall, sliding down until he sat on the floor. His chest still heaved, his hands trembled, and his lips buzzed with phantom warmth.
The system pulsed again, cruelly efficient.
[Next Major Step: Establish Intimate Bond.]
[Timer Reset: 109 Hours Remaining.]
Riku stared at it until the numbers seared into his brain.
"An… intimate bond?" he croaked. He dragged both hands down his face. "I'm dead. I don't think I'll make it."
The hallway light flickered once, as if in agreement, and he groaned louder, slumping back against the door.
The nightmare wasn't slowing down. It was only escalating.