Maki then continued to bite Nemuri's neck, leaving his saliva and his mark on her skin.
Nemuri gently patted Maki's head.
She didn't know if she was still young enough for true love, but she had always been good at teasing and being provocative. Sometimes people thought she was really an R-rated hero even in real life, acting like a loose woman, even a whore. Many people talked behind her back, even on online platforms, but why should she care about what others said?
Many men pursued her for her beauty and her body, but she rejected all of them. This time, however, she felt something stirring in her heart—maybe because they had been together for so long, and every time, the one looking after her was Maki. She never had the chance to treat him like a kid. In front of him, she felt like a little girl being taken care of.
She didn't know what to say or how to react.
Nemuri then felt the biting stop. Maki gently kissed her forehead and said, "You're the best thing I have ever had."
Nemuri smiled and teased, "Why? Just because of some instruments?"
Maki replied, "Maybe?"
Nemuri then kissed Maki's forehead as well.
"Go arrange your things. I need to take a bath after your biting," she said.
"Why? Was it not good?" Maki asked, placing his thumb and index finger on his chin. "I thought doing that would make you feel good. Did I search it wrong?"
"What did you even search?" Nemuri asked teasingly. "I wonder what else you've been searching."
Maki tilted his head and looked at her. "Well… want to know?"
"Fufufu, better leave it for now. I like surprises," Nemuri said as she headed to the bathroom.
♤
Without waiting, Maki rushed toward the instruments Nemuri had bought for him. It was a complete band setup—microphones, guitars, bass, electric and acoustic guitars, keyboard, drums, speakers, and cords. Everything was polished black, shining under the light.
Maki ignored the other instruments and went straight for the acoustic guitar.
The guitar was a brand he had never seen before, but it looked original. It was an expensive black acoustic guitar, a masterpiece of craftsmanship that balanced a "stealth" aesthetic with high-end luxury. The body was finished in a deep, mirror-like ebony gloss, almost like liquid glass, allowing the natural resonance of the solid spruce top to vibrate freely. Its silhouette was outlined with crisp, cream-colored ivoroid binding and iridescent mother-of-pearl purfling, creating a sharp and elegant contrast against the dark finish.
The fretboard was carved from genuine jet-black African ebony, smooth as marble beneath the fingers, and decorated with intricate abalone diamond and snowflake inlays. Completing the look, the headstock featured a gold-plated logo and premium open-gear tuners that shone like jewelry. The overall presence promised a rich, loud, and harmonically complex sound—far from the dull tone of cheaper, plastic-coated models.
Maki stared at it, feeling its texture.
He then sat down on the sofa and placed the guitar's body on his right lap. He positioned it under his right arm and held the neck with his left hand, brushing his fingers along the fretboard. He pressed four fingers down and strummed once with his right hand.
A chord rang out.
He strummed down and up, then formed another chord and strummed again, up and down.
The vibrating sound was like a single melody passing by. He didn't need to tune the guitar—it had already been perfectly done.
♤
After Maki checked the tuning of the guitar, he hastily grabbed one of the sheets of paper he had been writing on.
At the top of the paper was the title of a song:
DIE WITH A SMILE
It was a song by one of his favorite artists—because of how the artist could create a deep connection between himself and the audience who listened to his music. One thing Maki loved was how easy it was to memorize the chords and patterns. Many of the songs carried a similar beat, yet none of them sounded the same. Because he understood how chords worked, learning it had come naturally to him.
He placed the paper on the table, then coughed softly to clear his throat, letting the sound travel down his neck.
Then he muttered, "One… two… three," while simultaneously tapping his left foot against the floor.
He strummed a chord.
He began playing the intro of Die With a Smile, moving smoothly from F Major to C Major.
Then, with a deep voice—solemn and clear—he began to sing.
_
(Instrumental Guitar Hook)
🎶
(Ooh, ooh)
I, I just woke up from a dream
Where you and I had to say goodbye
And I don't know what it all means
But since I survived, I realized
Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow
Nobody's promised tomorrow
So I'ma love you every night like it's the last night
Like it's the last night
🎶
_
Unbeknownst to Maki, Nemuri didn't go to take a bath. She wanted to hear his singing voice while he played the guitar she had given him.
When she headed toward the bathroom earlier, she had quietly taken out her phone and recorded him—walking over to the instruments, touching the guitar for the first time. It was a memory she never wanted to forget. She had thought that if his voice cracked, she would tease him later with the video.
But instead, Nemuri stayed silent.
She watched him in awe and amazement. And when the chorus came, her heart stirred with a feeling she knew all too well.
_
🎶 Maki's solemn Smooth and cozy. voice rang throughout the room…
♤
If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you
If the party was over and our time on Earth was through
I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile
If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you....I'd.....wanna...be...next.....to...you.