Akari adapted faster than I expected.

  That alone should have worried me more than it did.

  By the time dinner was ready, she had already learned the layout of the house. Not by wandering, not by poking around, but by watching. One glance when someone opened a drawer. A quiet note taken when a cupboard creaked. She moved like someone who hated being in the way.

  My mother noticed none of it.

  “She’s so polite,” she said while setting plates down. “You should invite friends over more often.”

  Akari smiled, small and warm. “Thank you for having me.”

  I focused very hard on my food.

  Dinner passed without incident. Conversation stayed light. School, weather, nothing that mattered. Akari answered questions carefully, vague enough to be harmless, specific enough to feel real. She fit the rhythm of the table perfectly.

  Too perfectly.

  I played my part. Shrugged when spoken to. Kept my tone flat. The version of me that existed here didn’t stand out, didn’t argue, didn’t have opinions worth remembering.

  A public loser. Predictable. Safe.

  Afterward, I excused us and retreated to my room. The door closed behind us, cutting off the warmth of the house.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  The silence changed.

  Akari leaned back against the wall, arms loosely crossed, eyes sharp again. “You’re very good at this,” she said.

  “At what?”

  “Disappearing in plain sight.”

  I dropped my bag and sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s easier if people expect nothing.”

  She studied the room. Simple. Ordinary. A place where nothing important should happen. “This world suits you,” she said.

  “It doesn’t ask questions,” I replied. “That’s why I like it.”

  She nodded slowly, then took the chair across from me. Even sitting down, she looked ready to move.

  “I won’t interfere,” Akari said. “Not unless I have to.”

  “You can’t act like you normally do,” I said. “No authority. No digging. You’re just… a friend. Someone who knew me from before.”

  “I understand.”

  “You really don’t,” I muttered. “You can’t follow me around. You can’t step in if someone looks at me wrong. And you definitely can’t scare people.”

  A faint smile touched her lips. “I’ll try.”

  That answer didn’t reassure me.

  I ran a hand through my hair. “You’re here now. That means we have to be careful. If anyone notices something off, it spreads. Rumors here don’t die.”

  “They don’t in my world either,” she said quietly.

  We sat there for a moment, the weight of unspoken things settling between us.

  “You weren’t planning to come back,” she said.

  It wasn’t a question.

  I didn’t answer.

  Akari’s gaze softened, just slightly. “You always do this,” she said. “You decide something alone and disappear before anyone can stop you.”

  “I didn’t disappear,” I said. “I came home.”

  She didn’t argue. She just watched me, like she was memorizing the shape of the lie.

  “Then let me stay,” she said. “Just for now.”

  I hesitated.

  “…Fine,” I said at last. “But you follow my rules.”

  “I already am.”

  She stood and reached for the door. “Tomorrow, I’ll blend in. No one will question me.”

  That scared me more than if she’d said they would.

  After she left, I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

  Integrating her into this world was possible.

  Keeping my mask on with her this close?

  That was going to be harder than any fight.