Sayori stood right by the desk, arms crossed over her chest. The pale light from the ceiling lamp reflected off her glasses, making her gaze seem even sharper. Facing her was Kunon. He stood at the edge of his bed, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, emptying his backpack with mechanical precision.
For the first few minutes, they didn't look at each other. There was only the rhythm of movement: Sayori's steady breathing and the measured rustle of Kunon placing his things in the wardrobe.
"We need to set boundaries," Sayori said. Her voice was calm but left no room for debate.
Kunon paused after placing a folded black t-shirt on a shelf. "I agree."
The silence that stretched between them wasn't uncomfortable; it was more like the tense wait of two chess players weighing each other's moves.
"I don't want any noise after eleven," Sayori continued. "I wake up early, and my morning routine is millimetric."
Kunon replied without taking his eyes off the inside of the wardrobe. "I don't care for unnecessary small talk either."
One of Sayori's eyebrows arched slightly. This boy wasn't just staying out of her controlled space; he was stringing barbed wire around his own. "Good. No unnecessary talk."
"No touching personal belongings."
"You didn't even need to say that," Sayori said cuttingly.
"No guests without notice."
Sayori tilted her head slightly. "Are you planning on inviting people?"
"No."
"Then we have an agreement."
Kunon finally turned to her. His gaze was neither aggressive nor soft; it was simply calculating. He was trying to figure out how far the girl in front of him would go and where she would stop.
"One last rule," Kunon said, his voice dropping an octave. "Don't ask questions about things that don't concern you."
The air in the room grew heavy. Sayori realized this boy used his veil of mystery like a suit of armor. "And are you the one who decides what concerns me and what doesn't?"
"Yes."
A nearly invisible, defiant smile played on Sayori's lips. "We'll see."
In that moment, they looked less like two students sharing a dorm and more like two diplomats signing a ceasefire just before a great war. Kunon went back to his task. The room filled with the slide of fabric, the creak of drawer hinges, and the dull thud of books hitting the shelf. Sayori adjusted her glasses and sat at her desk. Her pen began to move decisively across the paper. The scratch of graphite and Kunon's movements merged into a strangely synchronized melody.
Kunon wasn't messy. He wasn't chaotic at all. He was efficient. Every movement served a purpose.
About ten minutes later, two sharp knocks at the door broke the sterile silence. Without looking up, Sayori said, "Come in."
The door swung open.
"Sayoriii!" Sakura's voice burst into the room like a carefree gust of wind.
She was wearing loose, pastel-colored pajamas and fuzzy slippers, her hair tied in a messy bun. She was mid-sentence when she froze in her tracks. Her eyes locked onto Kunon standing by the wardrobe.
Sakura blinked once. Then twice. As her brain processed the situation, her face turned bright red within seconds. "Oh..."
Kunon's gaze flickered to her for exactly half a second before returning to his drawer as if nothing unusual were happening. Sayori slowly removed her glasses.
"Didn't you know?" she asked calmly.
Sakura straightened up immediately, clearing her throat to try and add a fake layer of seriousness to her posture. "Of course I knew," she lied. "I just... forgot for a moment."
She walked in with exaggerated coolness, acting as if Kunon were a decorative plant. "I came for the history notes," she said, her voice three pitches higher than normal.
Sayori handed over the notes. Sakura seemed sworn not to take her eyes off Sayori's face. "So," she continued, "the weather is so nice today, isn't it?"
"It's night outside, Sakura," Sayori said flatly.
"Yes. Definitely. A nice... night air."
Kunon closed his drawer with a soft click and lay down on his bed. He put one hand under his head and stared at the ceiling, ignoring them completely. Within minutes, his breathing leveled out. Sakura's mask dropped then. She leaned toward Sayori and whispered, "What is he doing here?"
"My new roommate."
"What? You're joking!"
"The Director assigned the empty bed to him."
Sakura looked at Kunon's reclining figure with a mix of fear and curiosity. "Is he always like this? I mean... this scary?"
"He prefers to call it 'efficient,'" Sayori said dryly.
Sakura bit her lip. "Be careful, Sayori. This boy... I feel like he carries storms around with him."
Sayori didn't answer. Sakura took the notes and headed for the door. She gave one last dramatic look before slipping out of the room.
Silence returned.
At exactly eleven o'clock, the lights went out. The room was plunged into darkness; pale moonlight created thin shadows on the floor. Sayori turned to the wall and lay down. Thanks to her controlled mind, she usually fell asleep quickly. But tonight, it was impossible not to hear the other breath in the room.
Hours later, something woke her. It wasn't a sudden noise. It was a shift. A sense of presence.
She opened her eyes slowly. The room was darker now. She listened.
There it was. A soft sound. Not a footstep. A breath.
Sayori's heart rate quickened. She reached for her phone under her pillow and switched on the flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness like a knife. The empty desk... the wardrobe... and Kunon's bed...
It was empty.
Her pulse began to thrum in her ears. She slipped out of bed silently, her bare feet making no sound on the floorboards. She moved toward the small kitchenette area. The sound came again. A faint, metallic clink.
She shone the light toward the kitchen counter and stopped.
A silhouette stood in the shadows. His back was turned. His broad shoulders were tense, motionless as a statue. Sayori's breath hitched in her throat.
"Kunon?"
No answer. The silhouette turned slowly. When the light hit his face, she met Kunon's expressionless but wide-awake eyes. Sayori let out a short gasp.
"Be quiet," Kunon said. His voice was low but sharp. "Do you want to wake the whole floor?"
Sayori was clutching her chest. "Why are you standing there like that in the dark? You scared the life out of me!"
"You walk very quietly," Kunon countered, as if Sayori were the guilty one.
"This is my room!"
"You're the one wandering around with a flashlight like we're in a horror movie."
Anger replaced fear as Sayori lowered the light slightly. "You could have turned on the light."
"I didn't feel the need."
He had a glass in his hand. Just water.
"You startled me," Sayori murmured.
"You scare easily."
"I do not."
A brief silence fell between them. Kunon's gaze traveled over Sayori's face; he wasn't mocking her, he was just analyzing. "You're a light sleeper," he observed.
"You're making noise."
"I didn't."
"Then you're breathing too loudly."
The corner of Kunon's mouth twitched; it was almost like a smile, but not quite. "Go back to bed," he said calmly.
Sayori hesitated. "Were you just drinking water?"
"Yes."
"Nothing else?"
Kunon's jaw tightened imperceptibly. "Go. To. Bed. Sayori."
The firmness in his voice wasn't anger; it was an impassable wall. Sayori looked at him for another second, then turned and walked back to her bed. Behind her, she heard the sound of the glass being placed on the counter. A deep exhale... and then that heavy silence again.
But Sayori hadn't missed it. Just before she turned away, when the light hit Kunon's wrist, she had seen something strange. A thin, old scar. It didn't look accidental. It looked planned, deliberate, and deep.
The morning felt colder than usual.
Within the room, they moved like two magnets refusing to touch. As Sayori adjusted her tie in front of the mirror, Kunon reached for his bag on the shelf at the same time. Their fingers brushed momentarily. Both pulled their hands back with equal speed.
"You're in my way," Kunon said.
"You're standing in the wrong place," Sayori replied.
"I was here first."
"Chronologically, you're incorrect."
Kunon looked at her through her reflection in the mirror. "Having control is not the same as being strong, Sayori."
Sayori locked eyes with those icy ones in the reflection. "Keeping distance is not the same as being disciplined, Kunon."
Tension crackled silently in the air. Kunon grabbed his bag and left the room without another word. Sayori waited exactly ten seconds before following him.
Sakura and Kyoko were waiting for her in the courtyard. The curious grin on Sakura's face was a sight to behold. "Well?" she asked impatiently. "How was the first night with 'Iceman'?"
Kyoko scanned Sayori's face. "You look a little sleep-deprived."
"I slept just fine."
"Did he snore?" Sakura asked dramatically.
"No."
"Did he stare at you in the dark?"
Sayori paused. "...Maybe."
Sakura gasped. "I knew it! There's something uncanny about that boy!"
Kyoko crossed her arms. "Did anything out of the ordinary happen?"
For a moment, Sayori thought of Kunon's statue-like stance in the dark and that faint scar on his wrist. But she only said, "He drinks water at night."
Sakura looked at her with disappointment. "That's it?"
"That's it."
Kyoko didn't seem convinced. "He left before you this morning," she said calmly. "He doesn't like being observed."
Sayori looked at Kunon's back as he disappeared into the school building entrance. "No," she said in a low voice. "He doesn't."
Sakura leaned in closer. "So... is he unbearable?"
Sayori pushed her glasses up. "He's at a bearable level."
Kyoko's lips curled slightly. "That sounds dangerous."
"Why?"
"Because everything that is 'bearable' is a candidate to become indispensable one day."
Sayori didn't answer. But as she walked toward class, she couldn't shake that image from her mind. Kunon wasn't just drinking water in the dark. As he stood there, it was as if he had been listening to her long before she even opened her eyes.
The walls were very thin. Very thin indeed.
And a feeling whispered to Sayori that this was only the beginning.