Mr. Mayama's forehead glistened with anxious perspiration, beads collecting at his temples and threatening to drip down into his furrowed brows.
His daughter. That *stinky* kid.
A boy and a girl. Alone. In a bedroom. Behind a closed door.
His precious Asacha was so pure, so innocent, so utterly defenseless against the charms of handsome young men. Could that kid possibly resist doing something inappropriate? The very thought made his stomach clench like a wrung dishrag.
He was terrified that today might be the day his little girl experienced her first heartbreak—or worse.
The anxiety gnawed at him until he couldn't bear it any longer. His fist hammered against the white-painted door, the hollow thuds echoing through the upstairs hallway.
"Asacha! Open the door! Let Dad in!"
"Dad, you're *so* annoying!" Her voice cut through the wood, sharp with adolescent irritation. "If you bother me again, I won't talk to you anymore!"
*Click.*
Mr. Mayama felt something inside him fracture.
Oh. It was his heart.
"Waaah..." He clutched at his chest through his wrinkled button-down, genuine anguish twisting his features. The pain was immense—not physical, but the particular agony of a father watching his daughter slip further away with each passing day.
He regretted it so deeply. All those years buried in work, missing recitals and school festivals, letting his wife handle the day-to-day while he chased promotions. Now his little girl was becoming increasingly rebellious, increasingly distant, and there was nothing he could do to reclaim those lost moments.
"Asacha... then Dad will guard the door, okay?" His voice came out pitiful, pleading. "If that kid does anything bad, just call for Dad. Promise?"
"Got it." The reply dripped with impatience.
Then silence. Complete, maddening silence.
Mr. Mayama pressed his ear against the cool wood grain, straining to catch even the faintest whisper of what might be happening inside. The floorboards creaked beneath his shifting weight as he adjusted his position, desperate for any scrap of information.
He simply couldn't feel at ease about that Hozuki Nozomi boy.
A guy *that* handsome? With that effortless smile and those knowing eyes? Bound to be a scoundrel. Absolutely guaranteed.
Scratching frantically at his thinning hair, Mr. Mayama made his decision. He wasn't going anywhere today. He would stand sentinel at this door until that pretty-boy menace left his house empty-handed.
He *refused* to believe the kid had the audacity to lay hands on his daughter right under his own roof.
However.
What Mr. Mayama didn't know—couldn't possibly have known—was that Hozuki Nozomi absolutely *did* dare.
Though somewhat touched by his future father-in-law's concern for Sasanqua, what needed to be done still needed to be done.
At this very moment, he was already seated on Sasanqua's pink bedsheets—the fabric soft beneath him, smelling faintly of fabric softener and something floral, probably her shampoo. Stuffed animals lined the headboard in a pastel army, and fairy lights draped across her window cast the room in warm, intimate gold.
He held the girl's small hand in his, her fingers delicate and slightly cool, and guided her onto his lap. Her weight settled against his thighs, her back pressing into his chest as he savored the wonderful sensation of their bodies meeting through thin layers of clothing.
"Sasanqua," he murmured, leaning close to her ear, his lips nearly brushing the shell of it. His breath ghosted warm across her sensitive skin. "Did you miss me?"
A violent shiver rippled through her petite frame. Her cheeks bloomed crimson, spreading down her neck and disappearing beneath the collar of her cropped sweater. Even the tips of her ears had gone pink.
She was the shy, pure, utterly adorable type.
Although she'd always adopted that confident gal-like attitude—the bleached highlights, the trendy accessories, the practiced pout—her actual experience with men hovered stubbornly at zero. This was precisely why Hozuki Nozomi had been able to steal kisses from her sweet little mouth so easily before.
Pure and cute meant easy to tease. Easy to melt.
"I-I didn't miss you at all!" Asaka Mayama turned her face away, presenting him with the curve of her flushed cheek and the line of her jaw. Classic tsundere deflection. "You have other people anyway. Whether I'm around or not probably makes zero difference to you, right?"
Yet even as she said it, she didn't leave his embrace. Her soft hands found the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric like she was anchoring herself to him. The gesture was almost childishly possessive.
Hozuki Nozomi smiled, genuinely pleased.
"Of course there's a difference." His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer until he could feel the rapid flutter of her heartbeat against his chest. "Asacha is unique to me. In this entire world, there's only one Sasanqua. Only you."
"Mmm..." Her protest melted into something softer, needier. "You just know how to say pretty things... mmm—"
Striking while the iron was hot, Hozuki Nozomi dipped his head while she was still acting coquettish and caught her cherry-glossed lips with his own.
Sasanqua's amber eyes flew wide, her pretty face flushing an even deeper shade of rose. Her delicate hands fluttered uselessly at her sides for a moment, uncertain, before muscle memory kicked in. With a soft, surrendering sigh, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers threading into the hair at his nape.
Her eyes drifted closed. Her long lashes trembled against her cheeks like butterfly wings.
The kiss deepened gradually. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, coaxing them apart, and she opened for him with a breathless little "mmph—" that vibrated against his mouth. She tasted like strawberry lip gloss and the melon bread she'd been snacking on earlier. Sweet. Innocent. *Delicious.*
His hand slid beneath the hem of her sweater, palm spreading across the warm, bare skin of her lower back. She gasped into his mouth at the contact, her spine arching instinctively, pressing her soft chest against him.
"Nn... Nozomi..."
His name on her lips, breathy and wanting, sent heat pooling low in his stomach.
Coming here today served a dual purpose—partly because Asaka Mayama had invited him with that pouty text message full of excessive emoji, and partly to make up for her not participating in the hot spring event. She deserved proper attention. Proper spoiling.
A good while later—her lips swollen and glistening, her sweater slightly askew, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths—Mr. Mayama's voice shattered the hazy intimacy.
"Asacha! Why is it so quiet in there?!" The door rattled ominously. "Kid! Is it you deliberately keeping Asacha from speaking? You wicked little brat—if you've laid a *single finger* on my daughter, I will absolutely *not* let you off!"
Hozuki Nozomi reluctantly released the girl's cherry lips, a thin string of saliva briefly connecting them before breaking. He looked down at her flushed, dazed expression with amusement.
Asacha's embarrassment quickly curdled into annoyance.
"Dad! Who told you to eavesdrop at the door?!" She didn't move from Nozomi's lap, but her voice projected with impressive volume. "We're *studying*! Could you please go entertain yourself somewhere else? Don't disturb my homework!"
"Really just studying? Dad doesn't believe it! Open the door and let me check personally!"
"Dad, you're *really* annoying! I won't acknowledge you anymore!"
"Don't say that, Asacha! Dad was wrong! Dad won't make another sound, okay? But Dad's not leaving either! I'll keep guarding here, and if that kid dares do *anything* improper—"
Asaka Mayama: "..."
The girl was absolutely speechless.
No wonder she used to argue with her father constantly. He was genuinely, insufferably *annoying*.
She raised an eyebrow, mischief sparking in her amber eyes. Leaning close to Hozuki Nozomi's ear, her breath tickled his skin as she whispered playfully:
"Nozomi... Dad says all that, huh. Are you scared?"
The corner of his mouth curved into a dangerous smile. His hand found her slender waist again, fingers pressing into the soft curve just above her hip, and he tilted his head to brush his lips against hers.
"What do you think?"
The girl's face split into a delighted grin.
"I *knew* you weren't scared!" She squirmed happily in his lap before her expression turned conspiratorial. "But... I suddenly don't feel like staying home today. Let's go out together? You can see for yourself—Dad is *impossible* like this."
"Then shall I sneak you out?"
"Yes!"
Without further deliberation, Nozomi gathered her into his arms and rose from the bed in one fluid motion. Sasanqua squeaked and clung to his neck, her legs kicking slightly as he crossed to the window.
The afternoon sun poured through the glass, warming his face as he slid it open. A gentle breeze carried the scent of someone's laundry detergent and distant grilling meat from a neighbor's yard.
He stepped onto the windowsill and dropped.
Although it probably wasn't proper to spirit someone's daughter away through a second-story window... it didn't matter.
Who could blame him? Asacha was simply too cute.
---
Half an hour crawled past outside that bedroom door.
Mr. Mayama couldn't contain himself any longer. The silence had stretched too long, too complete. His imagination supplied increasingly horrific scenarios—that kid covering his precious daughter's mouth, doing unspeakable things while she struggled helplessly...
So, risking his daughter's permanent hatred, he fetched the spare key from downstairs.
He called through the door multiple times. No response. Not even a muffled "go away."
Heart hammering against his ribs, he steeled himself and turned the key.
The door swung open to reveal...
An empty room.
Mr. Mayama's eyes bulged from their sockets. The window gaped open, curtains drifting lazily in the afternoon breeze. The bed was rumpled. A single stuffed rabbit had tumbled to the floor.
"MY ASACHAAAAA!"
His daughter was *gone*.
That damn kid! He'd actually grabbed his precious girl and *jumped out the window*? What if they'd gotten hurt? What if they were lying in an alley somewhere with broken ankles?
Frantic energy seized him. He immediately activated the "Dad Network"—the group chat he maintained with the parents of Sasanqua's various friends. With enough patient inquiry, he'd usually be able to piece together his daughter's whereabouts.
However.
He was destined for disappointment.
Asaka Mayama hadn't told *anyone* about her impromptu date with Hozuki Nozomi. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, which meant her usual friend group knew nothing.
Thus.
By late afternoon.
Hozuki Nozomi escorted the girl back home.
Sasanqua's hair was slightly windswept, her cheeks still carrying a happy flush, and her hand remained intertwined with his as they approached the front door. Her lips looked suspiciously redder than they'd been earlier.
Mr. Mayama stood in the entryway, arms crossed, glare murderous enough to curdle milk.
But Hozuki Nozomi merely smiled his most pleasant smile, greeted him with an easy "Good evening, sir," made quiet arrangements with Asacha for their next outing, and strolled leisurely into the golden evening light.