The clock showed eight in the morning.
Soft sunlight seeped through the gaps in the curtains and the closed window, illuminating a room that had not yet been properly tidied.
The bedsheets were still crumpled.
A few pillows had been displaced from their usual spots, leaving behind traces of a long night that still lingered faintly in the air.
Kuro lay casually on the bed, wearing only a shirt with several buttons left improperly fastened.
His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, as if replaying last night's events in his mind.
Several seconds passed.
He let out a long sigh.
"Handling two Servants at the same time all night…" he murmured softly.
His expression remained flat, though a trace of honest exhaustion lingered in it.
"At first, it didn't sound like such a bad idea."
He paused for a moment.
"Then I forgot one important fact."
Kuro raised one hand, covering part of his face.
"Both of them are stubborn."
The corner of his lips lifted slightly.
"One is openly competitive."
He paused briefly, clearly referring to Tamamo.
"The other refuses to lose… just in a quieter way."
This one was undoubtedly about Chiyome.
Kuro lowered his hand again.
"When both of them are in that kind of strange mood…"
He thought for a moment.
"…it feels like I'm stuck in the middle of a weird cold war, except somehow I've become the center of it."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Good thing I have Zen of Joy and Divine Corruption," he murmured.
His gaze drifted to his own palm for a moment.
"Otherwise…"
Kuro seemed to search for the right analogy.
"…I'd probably be like a salted fish left drying on a rooftop by now."
He let out a small sigh.
"Still," he continued flatly, "having two at once is quite troublesome."
His brows furrowed slightly, as if analyzing a technical problem.
"I need to manage their rhythm alternately."
His tone was extremely serious, as if discussing battle strategy.
"And neither of them has any intention of making things easier."
Kuro closed his eyes for a moment.
"Alright."
His voice carried the tone of someone making an important decision.
"From now on, it's more efficient to handle things one at a time."
He gave a small nod to himself.
"Much easier to manage."
A few seconds of silence passed.
Then, from the direction of the bathroom, faint footsteps could be heard.
Kuro opened one eye.
"…Or maybe," he muttered while staring back at the ceiling, "I made that decision too quickly."
The bathroom door finally opened.
Warm steam drifted out slowly, carrying the scent of soap and a faint familiar floral fragrance.
Kuro shifted his gaze toward the source of the sound.
The first one to step out was Tamamo.
Her pinkish-red hair was still slightly damp, a few strands clinging to her neck and shoulders. She wore a casual yukata, tied far more neatly than the night before.
Her tail swayed gently, signaling a relaxed mood.
Her golden eyes immediately landed on Kuro, still lying on the bed.
Her smile widened.
"Good morning, my husband."
Kuro blinked once.
"We're not married."
"Minor detail," Tamamo replied lightly.
She sat on the edge of the bed, then looked around the slightly messy room.
"Mmm," she hummed in satisfaction. "A very productive night."
Kuro stared at the ceiling.
"…I don't like that choice of words."
Tamamo let out a soft chuckle.
Before the conversation could continue, the bathroom door opened again.
Chiyome stepped out with her usual calm demeanor.
Her black hair was still slightly damp, a few strands lightly sticking to the side of her face. Her expression remained composed and controlled, as if nothing unusual had happened.
If not for the faint red tint at the tips of her ears.
Her gaze briefly landed on Kuro for a few seconds, then shifted toward Tamamo.
A short silence filled the room before Chiyome finally spoke.
"My Lord. I will resume my duties."
Kuro nodded slightly.
"Yes. Be careful."
Chiyome lowered her head politely.
"Excuse me."
Without adding anything else, she turned around and began preparing to leave with the efficiency of a kunoichi—her movements neat, calm, and without wasting even a single moment.
Tamamo watched her leave, then turned back toward Kuro.
"See?" she said casually. "Chiyome is very diligent."
"She's the most consistent among the three of us." Kuro replied flatly.
Tamamo exhaled softly, then suddenly seemed to remember something.
"Oh, right."
She clapped her hands lightly.
"The refrigerator."
Kuro tilted his head slightly.
"The refrigerator?"
Tamamo looked at him with a serious expression, as if she had just discovered a major crisis.
"Our fridge is empty," she said, in a tone that was almost dramatic.
Kuro went silent for a moment.
His thoughts immediately drifted to the state of the kitchen—nothing more than a few bottles of mineral water, an ice tray, and several sauce bottles he wasn't even sure had been there since when.
A brief silence followed.
Then he let out a small sigh.
"…You're right."
Tamamo crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"As an outstanding ideal woman, I can of course cook."
She lifted her chin proudly.
"But even miracles cannot cook from nothingness."
Kuro stared at her for two seconds.
"A valid argument."
Tamamo smiled in satisfaction, then grabbed Kuro's arm.
"Then let's go shopping."
"You reached that conclusion very fast."
"Because it's important," Tamamo replied firmly.
She tugged him slightly from his reclined position.
"A healthy household requires proper food supplies."
"We don't have a household."
"You're denying it, but I heard no objection to the 'healthy' part."
Kuro let out a long sigh.
"Your logic is terrible."
Tamamo smiled sweetly.
"Thank you."
Kuro looked at her for a few seconds, then finally pushed himself up from the bed.
The bedsheet shifted slightly as his weight lifted.
He straightened his slightly rumpled collar, then glanced around the room, still bearing traces of the long night before.
His gaze paused for a moment.
"Hm." he muttered briefly.
Tamamo tilted her head.
"Is something wrong?"
Kuro shook his head slightly.
"No."
He stepped down from the bed with a relaxed motion.
"Just realized," he said flatly while walking toward the bathroom, "after last night, taking a shower sounds like the best decision I can make today."
Tamamo let out a soft chuckle.
"That's a very wise decision, my dear husband."
"We're not married," Kuro replied automatically without even turning around.
Tamamo rested her chin on her hand, watching Kuro's back as he slowly walked toward the bathroom.
Her smile grew a little wider.
"Not yet," she repeated lightly. "But you're already starting to sound like a head of the household."
Kuro's steps paused for a split second in front of the bathroom door.
He turned his head slightly.
"…I'm taking that as a threat."
Tamamo laughed softly, clearly entertained.
"Hurry up and take your bath," she said casually. "After that, we're going shopping."
Kuro opened the bathroom door.
"If you start putting household decorations in the cart," he said before stepping inside, "I'll leave you in the kitchenware aisle."
Tamamo smiled with full confidence.
"Then I'll just make sure you never get too far from me."
The bathroom door closed.
A few seconds of silence followed.
Tamamo stared at the door, still smiling faintly.
Then she gently flicked her tail.
"He really is husband material."
***
Even in something as ordinary as a supermarket, the two of them stood out in a way that was hard to ignore.
Kuro looked completely simple—white shirt with sleeves casually rolled up, black trousers, nothing flashy at all. No accessories, no expensive styling, no attempt to draw attention.
Simple.
Almost too simple.
And yet, that was precisely the problem.
Because simplicity like that, when worn with such calm composure, didn't look ordinary at all—it looked deliberate. Controlled. The kind of presence that made people quietly assume there had to be something beneath the surface.
And then there was Tamamo.
Her presence was the opposite kind of noticeable.
Even in a place filled with everyday noise and normality, she felt like she didn't quite belong to it. Her refined posture, her graceful movements as she walked beside Kuro, and the subtle elegance in every gesture made her stand out immediately among the crowd.
People didn't stare openly—but their eyes kept drifting back.
A few customers slowed down near the vegetable aisle.
Someone pretending to check labels on canned goods glanced over twice.
A cashier briefly looked up from the register, then did a double take before forcing their attention back to work.
Tamamo seemed completely unfazed.
She leaned slightly toward Kuro as they walked through the aisle.
"Master," she said lightly, "I feel like we are being observed."
Kuro didn't even turn his head.
"Statistically inevitable," he replied calmly.
Tamamo tilted her head.
"…That is not a comforting answer."
Kuro reached for a shopping basket.
"It wasn't meant to be."
And just like that, they continued walking deeper into the supermarket—two figures moving through an ordinary world that clearly didn't know what to do with them.
Even though Kuro had wrapped himself in Mystic Code and illusion magic to suppress his natural presence, his aura still felt far too noticeable.
As if something about him naturally drew the attention of people around him, even when he wasn't trying at all.
Several female customers glanced at him more than once.
Some pretended to be focused on selecting products, though their eyes kept drifting back to the man.
On the other hand, Tamamo was no less eye-catching.
Her fox ears and tail had already been hidden using Kuro's illusion magic, making her appearance seem like that of an ordinary young woman.
At least, technically.
Because visually, Tamamo was still far too striking to be called "normal."
She wore a white-and-pink striped jacket that gave off a casual, light impression, slightly open at the front to reveal the red inner layer beneath.
Paired with a black skirt above the knees, long black stockings, and simple black shoes, it created a stylish yet soft look that naturally drew attention without any effort at all.
Combined with her soft pink hair and naturally bright smile, the overall effect was almost devastating for the concentration of nearby customers.
Especially the fact that the two of them were walking together only amplified their visual impact as a strangely perfect pair.
A few people could be heard whispering softly.
Others casually turned their heads again after passing through the aisle.