Tells the story of Aruta Kuroyuki, a 19 year old guy who thinks life is boring with his monotone routine. He's just an ordinary person.
Or is he?
With something he hides in his past, and after his encounter with Noarin Otorii, who shares the same fa...
The days following our encounter with Kaden pass in a blur of mundane activities, a welcome respite from the chaos that seems to follow us. As the morning of our island tour dawns, I find myself scrambling to pack while Noarin methodically prepares our lunch boxes in the kitchen.
"You just started packing?" Noarin's voice carries a hint of amusement as she carefully places the lovingly prepared lunch boxes into her bag.
I glance up from the pile of clothes I'm haphazardly stuffing into my backpack. "Yeah, don't worry. I pack pretty fast."
"I see," she murmurs, settling onto the couch and cracking open a well-worn paperback. The soft rustle of pages turning fills the comfortable silence between us.
Despite my assurances of speedy packing, there's no real rush. We have a luxurious three hours before our scheduled meeting time. Still, I can't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. "How about you? Have you packed everything you need?" I ask, more to fill the silence than out of genuine concern.
Noarin's eyes flick up from her book momentarily. "Yeah, I'm ready to go anytime."
"I see," I reply, zipping up my backpack with a satisfying finality. I do a quick sweep of my room, mentally cataloging any essentials I might have missed, before lugging my bag to the front door.
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My gaze drifts to Noarin, still engrossed in her book. Curiosity gets the better of me. "What are you reading?"
"A romance novel," she replies, not looking up from the page.
I can't hide my surprise. "Huh, that's unexpected."
This catches her attention. She turns to me, one eyebrow arched. "Is there something wrong with me reading a romance novel?"
"Eh, no," I backpedal quickly. "I just thought you'd be more into mystery or action-adventure stuff." It's true â€" Noarin's composed, often stern demeanor doesn't exactly scream 'hopeless romantic'.
She shrugs, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Well, I read those too. But I think I read romance more often."
"I see," I nod, then, before I can stop myself, "Do you have any experience in romance or something?"
The moment the words leave my mouth, I want to sink into the couch and disappear. What am I thinking, asking something so personal?
Noarin pauses, the book rising slightly to obscure her face. "No... I don't," she answers, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I-I see," I stammer, looking anywhere but at her. Why does my mouth insist on operating independently from my brain? And why do I feel a flutter of relief at her answer?
"What about you?" Noarin's question catches me off guard.
"Eh? I can hardly make friends, let alone a girlfriend," I admit, chuckling self-deprecatingly.
