Kusako had been staring at the same glowing interface screen for nearly ten minutes.
「Mission: Connect — Speak with three players for a total of at least 30 minutes.」
Ten minutes each... three people…
She sat curled slightly into herself on a stone bench in the courtyard, her shoulders hunched to make herself as small as possible. Beyond her knees, the occasional player glided past in small, tight-knit groups. Ten minutes with a person shouldn't have been difficult, but every time Kusako even considered standing up to approach a group, her chest tightened so hard she could barely breathe.
Everyone already has their allies... I can't just intrude.
Maybe if someone passed by alone, I could try. Or maybe—
Just then, a loud, unmistakable rumble echoed from her stomach.
Kusako flinched, instantly pressing both hands over her waist. She darted a quick glance around, praying nobody had noticed.
Food first, she decided. I can do the mission later. Maybe I can find the kitchen first...
She pushed herself off the bench and slipped indoors.
That plan seemed simple enough—until three turns later, when Kusako found herself standing in yet another sterile, identical corridor. She slowed her steps, clutching the fabric of her oversized sleeves as a sinking sense of familiarity set in. She had definitely passed this wall sconce twice already.
A soft breeze drifted down the hall, drawing her eyes toward an open archway leading to an upper terrace.
Standing alone by the marble railing was Silver. The wind tugged lightly at her hair—a deep, striking blue that caught the afternoon light in shimmering threads—as she stared out over the grounds. Framed against the open sky, she looked breathtakingly beautiful, composed, poised, and entirely unbothered by the high stakes surrounding them.
Kusako's breath hitched. Serene-san...?
She instinctively took a half-step back, hiding behind the shadow of the doorframe.
They went to the same school. Kusako knew her name, and Silver knew hers, but that was where their connection ended. Silver had always carried an air of elegance that made her seem untouchable—not unkind, but distant enough that Kusako had never dared to strike up a real conversation with her.
Seeing her now, quiet and solitary against the sky, Kusako's fingers dug into her sleeves.
This is a chance for the mission... but I shouldn't bother her.
Her stomach gave another faint, mournful twist. Kusako squeezed her eyes shut. No. You have to try, Kusako. Just ten minutes.
Taking a tiny, cautious breath, Kusako stepped onto the sunlit stone of the terrace.
"Serene-san?"
Silver turned. There was a brief flicker of surprise in her sharp eyes before her expression softened into immediate recognition.
"Kusako?"
Hearing her name spoken so easily—and without an ounce of irritation—stole Kusako's remaining courage. "Um... hello."
"Hello," Silver said, turning fully to face her. A faint, surprisingly warm smile touched her lips. "Are you alright?"
"I'm sorry to interrupt," Kusako blurted out, her shoulders tensing up near her ears. "I just... I mean, have you eaten lunch?"
The words tumbled out before she could stop them. Panic instantly flared in Kusako's chest. Why did I say that?! She probably thinks I'm weird—
"If you haven't," Kusako hurried to add, her voice growing smaller by the second, "I... I was thinking of cooking something. I could make extra..."
Silver blinked, taken aback for a fraction of a second. Then, a low, quiet chuckle escaped her. It wasn't mocking; it sounded genuinely pleased.
"That's very sweet of you," Silver replied softly, shaking her head. "But I'm fine for now. Thank you."
"Ah... right. Of course." Kusako withered slightly, her eyes dropping to her shoes. Stupid Kusako. "Sorry. I'll just go then—"
"Were you looking for the kitchen?" Silver asked before Kusako could retreat.
Kusako paused, her fingers tightening inside her oversized sleeves. She didn't fumble or stutter, but her answer was overly careful, chosen with deliberate caution to avoid sounding odd. "I was trying to find it, yes. I... got a little turned around in this wing."
"I see," Silver said gently. She stepped away from the railing, her posture relaxed as she gestured back toward the interior hallway. "Well, it so happens I know the way. Come along, then."
Kusako blinked, slightly surprised. "You do?"
"I've been exploring the layout," Silver replied smoothly as she began to walk. "Unless, of course, you preferred your tour of the eastern hallways."
Kusako stared at her back for a second, her brain slowly catching up. Was that... a joke?
Quickly hurrying to keep pace, Kusako fell into step beside her, keeping a careful, respectful distance. For a long stretch, neither spoke. Their footsteps filled the corridor instead, softened by the occasional breeze slipping through the tall, open windows.
Kusako didn't mind the silence. Back at school, Serene-san had never struck her as someone who spoke simply because a room needed filling. She had always seemed perfectly comfortable within the quiet—graceful, composed, and just guarded enough that Kusako had never found a reason to cross the distance between them. They had moved in the same building, breathed the same air, yet occupied entirely different worlds.
Apparently, Silver had other ideas today.
"You know," Silver said casually, "I've always found you rather difficult to find."
Kusako looked up, blinking. "Me?"
"At school." Silver kept her gaze fixed ahead, as though commenting on the afternoon light. "I knew your name long before I properly knew your face. It kept appearing beside mine."
It took Kusako a second to bridge the gap. "The rankings?"
"The rankings. Examination results. Academic awards." Silver glanced sideways at her, her sharp, golden-amber eyes catching the sun. "You have a habit of appearing near the top of things."
Kusako's gaze dipped to her own shoes. "So do you."
"I know."
The effortless certainty of the answer made Kusako look back at her. Silver remained the picture of absolute composure, but there was a subtle, almost imperceptible lift at the corner of her mouth.
Apparently, Serene-san is capable of teasing people.
"I guess that's what first made me curious about you," Silver continued smoothly. "Your name was everywhere, yet you weren't. You were rarely around outside of mandatory hours."
Curious?
"...Me?"
"Yes."
Kusako kept walking. "Oh."
She did not understand a thing.
Why me?
They weren't close. They had spoken before, certainly, but hardly enough for Kusako to imagine she'd occupied any particular space in Silver's thoughts.
"I... usually leave right after class," Kusako admitted, her fingers curling slightly inside her sleeves.
"That explains why I could never find you."
Find me?
The phrase hung softly between them. Kusako felt a sudden tightness in her chest, uncertain how to digest the idea of Silver—poised, unreachable Silver—actually looking for her in crowded hallways.
"Were you... looking for me?" The question slipped out before Kusako could catch it.
"Not intentionally," Silver admitted. "But once I became curious, I suppose I started noticing your absence."
Kusako frowned, her brows knitting together. That was somehow worse.
"I did see you before, though." Silver slowed slightly as they rounded another corner. "Outside of the classroom."
"Outside of the classroom?"
"Combat practice."
Kusako's foot nearly caught against the smooth floor. Nearly. She caught her balance before it became a full stumble—or so she desperately hoped—her heart dropping sharply into her stomach.
Silver noticed, of course. Her lips twitched with faint amusement. "Oh. You remember."
"I didn't think anyone was paying attention," Kusako muttered, looking away, her cheeks beginning to warm.
Kusako glanced back at her. Silver's expression hadn't lost its poise, but there was a silent, concentrated weight behind her gaze now—the same sharp scrutiny Kusako vaguely remembered from across assembly halls, except she had never realized it had been directed at her.
"What did I do?" Kusako asked softly. "Was I..." She hesitated, reconsidering the question. "Was it weird?"
"You surprised me," Silver replied, a thoughtful note entering her voice. "Until then, I had only known you through paper."
Kusako's breath hitched, stopping dead in her throat.
Her heart pounded against her ribs. Her eyes snapped to Silver, searching her face with desperate, quiet intensity—looking for any trace of disgust, fear, or judgment. Her mind spiraled, overthinking every second of that past encounter, piecing together invisible clues to confirm her worst fears.
Silver caught the sudden shift in Kusako's demeanor immediately. A flicker of concern broke through her usual composure, her lips parting as if to ask what was wrong.
Before Silver could say anything, Kusako frantically shook her head, dropping her gaze to the floorboards and tucking her hands deep into her sleeves to cut off eye contact entirely.
Silver held her silence. She didn't press, nor did she bring up the lingering shadow of their school days. Instead, she smoothly slowed her pace, letting her gentle indifference soothe the quiet panic without making a scene of it.
"Here we are," Silver said, slowing to a stop.
Kusako blinked, breaking out of her thoughts. Before them stood a set of heavy wooden double doors recessed into the stone wall.
"The kitchen?" Kusako asked softly, her voice still a little tight.
"Yes."
Relief arrived instantly—closely followed by an inconvenient, lingering trace of disappointment.
"Oh," Kusako murmured before she could stop herself. "We're here already."
Silver turned to look at her, her head tilting slightly.
Kusako froze, her mind instantly going into damage control. Why did I say that out loud?!
"I mean—" She gestured vaguely toward the doors, her face flushing a deep pink. "That... that was faster than I expected."
Silver's composure cracked, a quiet, genuine laugh escaping her lips. "Were you hoping I'd get us lost?"
"No!"
"If you say so," Silver murmured, her eyes softening with an unmistakable warmth. She reached out and pushed the heavy door open, stepping back to let the warm light of the kitchen spill over them. "Alright then. I'llleave you to it."
Kusako paused at the threshold, looking back at her. The distance that had separated them for years at school suddenly felt paper-thin.
"Thank you, Serene-san," Kusako said, offering a small, earnest bow. "For showing me the way. And... it was nice talking to you."
Silver regarded her for a long moment. Up close, the cool, untouchable air that usually surrounded her felt far less like a wall and much more like a quiet shield.
"Yes," Silver said softly. Then, after the briefest pause, her gaze flicked to Kusako's eyes. "We should have done it sooner."
Kusako's thoughts scattered to the wind. "R-Right. I'll see you later."
"Good luck with your cooking." Silver gave a small, graceful wave and turned back toward the corridor.
We should have done it sooner?
Kusako lingered by the doorway, listening until the quiet echo of Silver's footsteps died away down the hall.
She pressed a palm against her warm cheek, taking a long, steadying breath to settle the strange restlessness in her chest.
Kusako shook her head softly, cutting her overthinking short before it could spiral.
「Mission: Connect — Players: 1 / 3」
Kusako stared at the floating text for a beat, her shoulders finally dropping an inch. The knot of tension that had been twisting in her gut all morning loosened.
I actually talked to Serene-san today.
And it hadn't ended in disaster. It hadn't even felt performative.
One down, she thought, her shoulders dropping as a quiet resolve took over. Two to go.
Turning into the kitchen, the soft, ambient warmth of the room enveloped her. The space was pristine—sleek stainless steel counters, high-end cookware, and an absurdly massive walk-in storage pantry stocked to the brim with all kinds of fresh ingredients and imported goods.
While browsing the shelves, her eyes had landed on fresh pork cutlets, eggs, flour, and panko breadcrumbs. It was almost a surreal coincidence that a place like this had everything she needed.
Kusako tied her hair back neatly and set to work, her movements methodical and precise. Soon, the rhythmic sizzle of deep-frying filled the quiet room as the golden-brown crust formed in the pan.
It was only after she turned down the heat that she noticed she wasn't alone.
In the corner, standing motionless by the far counter, was Asher. His entire face was scrunched up as if he had just tasted the sheer bitterness of life itself, glaring down at the dark liquid in his mug as though reading an ominous curse.
"I think I've sinned in my past life..." Asher muttered under his breath, his scowl deepening. "This is a hate crime."
Kusako wiped her hands on a clean towel, watching his dramatic despair with quiet concern. "Um... are you okay?"
Asher blinked, turning his head toward her as if noticing her presence for the first time.
"Huh?" He sighed, slouching slightly. "Yeah, just spacing out and... enjoying the void."
"The void?" Kusako repeated softly, her brow knitting together.
"That coffee." Asher gestured vaguely at the mug. "They know I'm not fond of it. If you ask me, they should relabel 'task' to 'punishment.'"
Kusako stifled a quiet laugh behind her sleeve. "Did you try one yet?"
"Got through two sips," Asher replied grimly. "I felt my soul leave."
He dragged himself over to the counter nearby, leaning heavily against it just as Kusako lifted the pan lid. A rich, mouthwatering aroma immediately wafted through the kitchen.
Asher perked up instantly, his eyes widening as he locked onto the pan. "What are you making? That smells good."
"Tonkatsu," Kusako replied gently, a small trace of pride in her voice as she began transferring the golden cutlets to a plate.
A spark of pure, unmistakable excitement lit up Asher's eyes. "Tonkatsu? That's kinda specific for a place like this. Any special reason?"
Kusako paused, her hands slowing over the plate as the direct question gently nudged her memories to the surface. Her tone dipped into a quiet, reflective space.
"When I was small, I'd pass by a convenience store and see it in the bentos," Kusako murmured softly. "But we couldn't afford it. Life at home was... hard. So I only ever looked at it from the window."
Asher quieted, his expression settling into attentive silence.
"And when I saw the ingredients here, I thought..." Kusako looked down at the steaming plate. "...even if this place is fake, just once, I want to taste it."
The silence between them stretched softly, warm and still.
Only after the words had left her did Kusako realize how much she'd actually said.
I got too lost in talking... Why did I tell him all of that?
Her fingers stilled against the edge of the plate. She had only meant to explain why she'd chosen tonkatsu, but somehow, she'd ended up handing him a piece of her childhood along with it.
Asher didn't laugh, nor did he make a joke.
Instead, his playful air faded into something unusually thoughtful as he looked down at the golden cutlets between them.
"Cooking something you've wanted since you were a kid... in the middle of all this."
Kusako offered a small, embarrassed laugh, pulling her sleeves slightly over her hands. "It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that."
"Not really." Asher looked back up at her, offering a soft, reassuring smile. "Kinda cool, actually. You finally got to do it."
The simple sincerity in his voice instantly caught her off guard, easing the tightness curling in her chest before her overthinking could spiral any further.
"So..." Asher asked gently, his tone dipping into a quiet warmth. "Can I share the moment with you? That is... if you don't mind sharing."
Kusako blinked. The tension in her shoulders eased.
"When you put it that way..." She reached into the cupboard for another dish, a faint, genuine smile touching her lips. "How am I supposed to say no?"
Asher brightened immediately as Kusako plated a second serving for him.
Asher didn't hesitate. Looking down at the crispy, golden food, he picked up his utensils, took a generous bite, and swallowed. A look of absolute, relaxed satisfaction washed over his face.
"It tastes so good!" he exclaimed softly, before glancing up at her. "What are you doing? You eat too."
He gently slid a pair of chopsticks across the counter toward her.
Kusako watched his joyous, genuine expression, feeling a sudden wave of warmth bloom in her chest. She picked up the chopsticks and took a bite herself.
A faint, soft smile touched her lips. It is... good.
In the quiet kitchen, the distance between them faded completely. Somewhere nearby, the steady ticking of a wall clock slipped beneath the quiet clink of utensils.
One more person... Kusako thought as she shared the quiet meal, realizing she was no longer just going through the motions for her mission. But for now, I think I have plenty of time.