Breakfast started with a threat.

  A polite, silent one.

  There she was.

  Arina Cherrylin.

  Eating rice like she didn’t just move into my life uninvited, like she wasn’t plotting to pull secrets out of Mogi’s mute little soul.

  I sat across from her with my best fake smile and said:

  “So, about that little flying moment. Let’s not bring that up outside the shrine.”

  She smiled, gently lifted her cup of tea, and blinked innocently.

  “Oh? You mean the part where your barefoot rental child floated like a helium balloon?”

  “Yeah,” I hissed, “that part.”

  ?

  I leaned in over the table, chopsticks still stuck in my mouth.

  “Let me put it this way, Cherrylin. I know about your little… situation.”

  She tilted her head, smile never wavering.

  “What situation?”

  “Don’t py cute. You’re living with a rental family. You, the iron-fisted student council president, daughter of one of the top families in town, now sharing a kitchen with a turtle and my drunk mother.”

  “I see no issue,” she said.

  “You shouldn’t,” I replied. “Unless, of course, I happened to mention it to the other branch families. I’m sure they’d love to know their rising star is living under the same roof as that,” I said, motioning toward Baja—who at that moment snorted in her sleep and dropped an entire sausage from her mouth onto her chest.

  Arina blinked. Her smile finally faltered. Victory.

  But I wasn’t done.

  “Oh—and I also saw something this morning,” I added.

  She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  I grinned, smug as ever. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Are you bckmailing me?”

  “No, just… mutually reminding you to keep your pretty lips shut about Mogi’s airborne stunt. You mess with Mogi, you mess with the shrine, and I don’t need any more obstacles in my life. I’ve got bills. I’ve got trauma. And I’ve got a mother who thinks funnel cake counts as currency.”

  Arina calmly set her tea down.

  Then, without breaking eye contact, she slid her phone across the table and tapped the screen.

  I looked down.

  It was a picture.

  Of me.

  From this morning.

  Sleep-deprived, messy hair, mouth open, drool visible… holding a plush turtle from Mogi’s tank like I was confessing my love to it.

  My face dropped.

  “Oh, you py dirty.”

  She smiled. “Only when someone starts the game.”

  ?

  And just like that, breakfast resumed in eerie silence.

  Mogi stared at the both of us with that same sleepy expression, sipping from a cup of milk like we were actors in a py she was too tired to care about.

  I had barely finished cleaning up when I heard the front gate open.

  Footsteps. Two sets.

  One was my brother’s.

  The other?

  High heels.

  Click. Cck. Click.

  Arina peeked out from the hallway.

  “Someone’s here.”

  I went to the entryway, expecting a door-to-door sales pitch or another one of Baja’s shady associates.

  Instead, there stood a woman in a formal bzer, skirt, sharp eyes, and a tired aura that screamed “corporate.”

  She bowed.

  “Apologies for being early. I’m here as the third tenant.”

  My mouth opened. Then closed.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  ?

  She introduced herself as Ms. Kase. Worked in regional HR. Probably knew how to destroy someone’s life with an email.

  Baja appeared from behind me, still in slippers and a hoodie that read Shrine Life, Don’t Ask. She greeted Ms. Kase like they were old mahjong buddies.

  And then came my brother.

  He shuffled in like a zombie, fresh from work, still adjusting his tie.

  The second he saw Mogi standing in the hallway behind me—just existing—he dropped his bag.

  “S-Sis…?”

  Oh no.

  Not again.

  “Hey, hey—no, no!” I rushed toward him, but it was too te.

  He lunged.

  Straight toward Mogi.

  Arms outstretched like he was about to recreate some reunion scene from a bad soap opera.

  Ms. Kase stepped forward faster than I expected.

  And with one clean movement—

  BAM.

  My brother colpsed. A pressure point? A chop? I had no idea. All I knew was he hit the ground like a sack of cursed rice.

  Silence filled the shrine.

  I blinked. Mogi blinked.

  Arina just sipped her tea.

  “…Did she just knock out my brother?” I asked.

  Ms. Kase straightened her sleeve. “Apologies. I saw a grown man rushing at a child. Reflex.”

  I knelt beside him. “Yeah, no, I get it. He’s got a condition.”

  Ms. Kase stared. “Condition?”

  “He thinks every girl under five feet is his long-lost sister.”

  She blinked.

  Then nodded.

  “I’ll… keep that in mind.”

  ?

  Later that night, everything had calmed.

  Mogi, of course, showed no visible reaction. She fed her turtle like it was just another Tuesday.

  Baja danced in the kitchen, drunk on plum wine and muttering about “sweet money tenants.”

  Arina sat cross-legged in the corner doing tarot readings for herself, whispering, “Death card, again?”

  And Ms. Kase? She was already in sleepwear, her expression bnk as she browsed job listings on her tablet. Probably pnning the funeral of another intern.

  I stood in the hallway, head against the wall, wondering when I lost control of my own life.

  Then I looked at Mogi again. Sitting quietly under the moonlight.

  Still calm.

  Still unreadable.

  Still glowing—just slightly—as if the moonlight clung to her skin.

  And for the first time that day… I didn’t feel exhausted.

  Just… curious.

  ?

  [Suspenseful Ending]

  I had questions.

  About Mogi.

  About Arina.

  About whatever shady contracts Baja signed while drinking rice wine.

  But those could wait.

  Because tomorrow?

  Tomorrow would be a new kind of nightmare.