The next morning...
Henry woke up feeling as though someone had dragged him out of a particularly good dream.
His eyes barely opened as he let out a long yawn and stretched beneath the sheets, his muscles protesting slightly after a surprisingly comfortable night's sleep. He reached lazily toward the bedside table, intending to grab his phone and check the time before deciding whether he had enough energy to leave the bed.
His fingers closed around nothing.
Henry frowned.
He opened his eyes a little wider.
His phone was sitting exactly where he had left it on the bedside table.
So why couldn't he reach it?
Still half-asleep, Henry shifted his gaze downward.
Then he froze.
There was something standing beside the bedside table.
More specifically...
There was a pair of long, pale legs.
Henry stared.
His sleepy brain took several seconds to process what his eyes were seeing.
Legs?
He blinked.
The legs didn't disappear.
He blinked again.
Still there.
Henry's remaining drowsiness vanished instantly.
"What the—"
He shot upright so quickly that his hair became even more disheveled.
His eyes traveled upward.
And there stood Wendy.
She had her arms folded across her chest, one eyebrow slightly raised as she stared down at him with an expression that seemed to say she had been standing there for quite some time and was rapidly losing patience.
Her usual intimidating look was made even more effective by the fact that Henry had just woken up and had absolutely no idea why she was standing beside his bed.
For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.
Henry stared at Wendy.
Wendy stared back.
The silence became increasingly awkward.
Henry finally glanced around the room as if hoping there was some reasonable explanation for the situation.
There wasn't.
His gaze returned to Wendy.
She was wearing a simple tank top, while her hair was still slightly damp from her recent shower. A few strands clung loosely near her cheeks and neck, and a faint, clean fragrance lingered in the room, subtle enough that Henry couldn't quite identify it.
She looked perfectly composed.
He, on the other hand, had just woken up looking like he'd lost a fight with his pillow.
Wendy's frown deepened.
Henry swallowed.
"...Good morning?"uumh..how did you get in?
Wendy's frown deepened.
Henry swallowed.
"...Good morning?"
His voice came out weaker than he intended. His eyes moved from Wendy to the door and then back to her again, his still-sleepy brain struggling to make sense of the situation.
"Um... how did you get in?"
For a moment, Henry was genuinely baffled.
He was almost certain he had been alone last night. After everything that had happened with the show, he had spent most of the evening lying in bed and thinking about his future—what opportunities he could pursue afterward, whether he should focus on recording his own songs, and how he could slowly build himself up.
And he hadn't been drinking.
So how the hell had Wendy suddenly ended up inside his room, standing beside his bed and staring at him like they had some kind of unfinished business?
Henry frowned as he tried to remember.
Then it hit him.
His eyes widened slightly.
Wait.
Last night...
He remembered Wendy knocking on his door around midnight.
She had been drunk.
Very drunk.
Henry had initially thought about pretending he wasn't home, but after hearing her practically mumbling through the door, he had reluctantly opened it.
Somehow, he had ended up supporting her all the way back to her place while she chatted nonstop about things he barely understood.
It had been quite a struggle.
After getting her inside, he'd helped her settle down, tidied up a little, and made sure she was okay before returning to his own room.
That was it.
Right?
Henry's expression became increasingly uncertain.
Wendy didn't answer immediately. She simply continued staring at him with her arms crossed, her expression becoming more intimidating by the second.
Finally, she raised an eyebrow.
"Of course I used my key to open the door."
Henry blinked.
"Your key?"
"Yes."
"How did you get the key?" Henry asked, his brows knitting together. "I'm pretty sure I never gave you one. Or am I mistaken?"
Wendy stared at him as though he had just asked the most ridiculous question imaginable.
"I'm your landlady," she said flatly. "It's normal for me to have a key to the house, isn't it?"
Henry's mouth opened slightly.
He looked at her.
Then at the door.
Then back at her.
"..."
His expression slowly became even more puzzled.
Is that even legal?
He had never imagined that renting a room came with the possibility of his landlady casually unlocking his door and appearing beside his bed first thing in the morning.
Wendy seemed completely unconcerned about his confusion.
Instead, she narrowed her eyes.
"Last night," she asked, her voice suddenly more serious, "did you do anything to me?"
Henry froze.
The question caught him so completely off guard that his brain seemed to stop working for a second.
"...What?"
Wendy's glare intensified.
"I'm asking if you did anything to me last night."
Henry immediately shook his head.
"No! I just..." He hesitated, trying to remember everything that had happened. "After taking you home, I helped you tidy up. That's all."
Wendy continued staring.
Henry shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze.
"I didn't do anything else."
Silence filled the room.
Wendy's eyes remained fixed on him, as though she were trying to determine whether he was telling the truth.
Henry, meanwhile, began feeling increasingly guilty despite knowing perfectly well that he hadn't actually done anything wrong.
He hadn't touched her.
He hadn't taken advantage of her drunken state.
He had simply helped her get home.
Yet somehow, standing there in his messy bedroom with Wendy glaring at him first thing in the morning, Henry felt like a criminal being interrogated.
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Honestly, I don't know what you're thinking about, but I swear I didn't do anything."
Wendy remained silent for another few seconds.
Henry's confidence slowly disappeared.
He had faced hostile executives,angry managers, his ex-girlfriend and none of them had made him feel quite as uncomfortable as this.
What kind of mess is this?
Henry stared at Wendy helplessly, completely at a loss for words.
Wendy stared at Henry for a while, seemingly judging whether she should believe him. After several seconds, she finally relaxed, though a small pout appeared on her lips.
"Fine. I believe you," she said. Then, as if she couldn't resist adding one more comment, she muttered, "Besides, I bet you don't have the guts."
Henry's mouth twitched.
What exactly is that supposed to mean?
Before he could ask, Wendy had already turned toward the door.
"Get up if you're awake. Perfect timing, too. I'm hungry. Come to my place and make me something to eat. I'm starving."
She said it so naturally that Henry almost wondered whether he had somehow become her personal chef overnight.
"Wait—"
But Wendy was already walking away.
She didn't even bother waiting for an answer, leaving Henry with absolutely no room to refuse.
Henry sat on the edge of his bed and watched her disappear through the doorway. His gaze briefly followed her figure before he shook his head and sighed.
This woman really doesn't know the meaning of asking.
Still, there wasn't much point complaining.
As he got out of bed, Henry glanced toward the door and made a mental note.
From now on, I'm locking this door before I go to sleep.
He looked at the door for a moment.
Then his eyes drifted toward the collection of locks already installed on it.
There were enough of them to make the room look like it belonged to someone hiding from an army.
Henry's expression slowly became complicated.
Actually... what's the point?
Wendy had somehow gotten inside despite all those locks.
If she had a key, he could probably install ten more and she'd still stand beside his bed the next morning with the same expression.
Henry sighed.
I'll deal with that problem later.
After washing up and getting himself properly dressed, Henry headed over to Wendy's place.
He had a busy day ahead of him anyway.
After breakfast, he planned to visit Silver Records. He had already spoken with Sarah this morning, and after finally making his decision, she had invited him to come to the company's offices in person.
There was a reason for the meeting.
Their previous conversation had mostly been about whether Henry was interested in working with Silver Records. Whatever decision he had reached after their call this morning, he had kept it to himself for now. Sarah had invited him to the company's offices, saying there were several things they needed to discuss in person, leaving Henry to wonder what exactly awaited him when he arrived.
For now, however, there was a more immediate problem.
Breakfast.
When Henry entered Wendy's apartment, he found her lying lazily on the sofa as though she'd been waiting for him.
The moment she saw him, she lifted one hand and pointed toward the kitchen.
"There's bread in there, and the milk powder is in the second cabinet. Make two cups."
Henry paused.
Wendy continued giving instructions without even sitting up.
"And fry two eggs. If you want steak, get it from the fridge."
Henry stared at her for a moment.
Then he walked toward the kitchen.
He wasn't even bothered anymore.
Somehow, in the short time he'd known Wendy, he'd already started getting used to her commanding him around.
Besides...
Who would refuse a free breakfast?
Even if he was the one making it, he was still saving money.
What? Call me cheap if you want.
Henry had never considered himself particularly generous when it came to food. If someone else was providing the ingredients and all he had to do was cook, he saw absolutely no reason to complain.
With that thought, he opened the refrigerator and got to work.
The kitchen soon filled with the soft sounds of cooking. Eggs sizzled in the pan while Henry prepared the bread and mixed the milk powder into two cups. He handled everything with surprising efficiency, moving around the kitchen like someone who had done this countless times before.
A short while later, breakfast was ready.
Henry carried everything to the dining table and carefully arranged the plates.
The eggs were neatly prepared, the bread was set beside them, and the steak sat on the plate with enough care that the entire meal looked like it belonged in a small restaurant rather than a landlord's apartment.
He even placed the cups down properly.
For a moment, Henry looked at the table.
Not bad.
The aroma soon spread throughout the room.
Wendy, who had been lying lazily on the sofa moments earlier, immediately sat up.
Her hunger had apparently reached its limit.
She walked over to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and sat down without wasting another second. Her eyes briefly scanned the food before she looked at Henry.
Henry was still standing there.
Wendy raised an eyebrow.
"What are you standing there for?"
Henry blinked.
"...Huh?"
"Sit down and eat."
She picked up her fork.
"Or should I blow a whistle for you?"
Henry looked at her for a moment before deciding that arguing wasn't worth the effort.
He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down.
He was too lazy to say anything anyway.
The moment he started eating, he realized just how hungry he actually was.
Wendy wasn't exaggerating when she'd said she was starving either.
She ate her poached egg in small, neat bites, occasionally glancing at Henry from the corner of her eye. There was a thoughtful expression in her eyes, as though she were quietly observing him rather than simply eating breakfast.
Henry didn't notice.
Or, more accurately, he noticed but couldn't be bothered to ask.
His attention was firmly on the food.
A few minutes later, Wendy looked down at her plate.
Then she looked at Henry.
Then back at her plate.
Henry had already finished most of his food, yet his expression still carried a faint trace of dissatisfaction, as though the meal hadn't quite managed to fill the empty space in his stomach.
Wendy stared at him for another moment.
Without saying anything, she picked up her untouched steak and placed it on Henry's plate.
Henry stopped eating.
He looked at the steak.
Then at Wendy.
"...You're not eating this?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
Wendy nodded.
Henry didn't ask again.He immediately pulled the plate closer.
A few minutes later, the steak was gone.
Only then did Henry finally lean back in his chair, feeling comfortably full.He rested against the back of the chair and let out a quiet breath of satisfaction.
For someone who had woken up to find his landlady standing beside his bed, the morning had turned out surprisingly well.
At least he had gotten a free breakfast out of it..