𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔⭑.ᐟ 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔 (✔)

chapter 06

I didn't stay in the room for long, not because there was anything wrong with it, but because everything about it felt too untouched, too unfamiliar, like I had stepped into a life that hadn't quite adjusted to my existence yet. Standing there, surrounded by neatly arranged furniture and a quiet that felt almost artificial, only made one thing painfully clear. I had absolutely nothing. No clothes, no essentials, no sense of grounding, and definitely no money to fix any of that, which meant staying there and overthinking everything would only make it worse. So instead of letting my thoughts spiral any further, I grabbed the key, stepped out into the hallway, and decided that figuring things out outside would be better than standing still and doing nothing.

The hallway was quiet in that controlled, almost suffocating way that seemed to follow every part of this building, and for a brief moment, I considered just leaving without telling anyone, slipping out unnoticed the way I was used to. It would've been easier, cleaner, and far less complicated than involving anyone else, especially someone like him. But before I could even take more than a few steps, his voice cut through the silence with an ease that made it clear he had been there long enough to notice everything.

"You're leaving already?"

I turned slightly, already knowing who it was before I even looked, and sure enough, Rindou was leaning casually against the wall near his door, his posture relaxed in a way that looked almost careless, yet his eyes were anything but. They followed me with quiet precision, taking in more than he let on, and it was that contrast that made him unsettling in a way I couldn't quite explain. I exhaled lightly, brushing it off as best as I could.

"I need to get some things," I replied, keeping my tone simple as I adjusted my sleeve, fully aware of how obvious my situation was. "Unless you expect me to live here with nothing."

His gaze flickered over me slowly, deliberately, not in a way that felt invasive, but in a way that made it clear he was assessing the situation without needing to ask anything further. "You don't have money," he said, his voice flat and direct, not even bothering to phrase it as a question.

I paused briefly before responding, "...I'll figure it out," even though we both knew that wasn't an actual plan.

A quiet scoff left him, subtle but unmistakable, as he pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer, his movements unhurried yet controlled in a way that made it impossible to ignore his presence. "That's not figuring it out," he said, his tone blunt, almost dismissive, yet not entirely mocking. "That's just you walking out and hoping something works."

I crossed my arms slightly, tilting my head as I met his gaze without backing down. "And?" I asked, knowing exactly what he was implying but not willing to admit it out loud.

"And it's stupid," he replied without hesitation, the word landing plainly between us, unfiltered and completely honest.

For a moment, I just looked at him, debating whether I should be annoyed or not, but the way he said it made it hard to take it personally, because there was no arrogance behind it, no attempt to belittle me—just a straightforward observation. "...So what, you're going to stop me?" I asked after a second, raising an eyebrow slightly.

He didn't answer immediately, and for a brief moment, the silence stretched just enough to make me think he might actually let me walk off on my own. Instead, he turned slightly, stepping back into his room for a second before coming back out like he had already made up his mind.

"Come on."

That was it. No explanation, no elaboration, no room for argument.

I hesitated for half a second before following him, not because I fully trusted him, but because ignoring him felt like it would somehow make things more complicated than necessary, plus he really helped me back there. The elevator ride was quiet again, but this time it didn't feel suffocating, and it didn't feel awkward either. If anything, it felt intentional, like neither of us saw the need to fill the silence with meaningless conversation.