The humidity of the late September afternoon clung to Mikoto Asada like a second skin. He stood outside the gates of St. Jude’s University, clutching the straps of a duffel bag that contained his entire life: three changes of clothes, a beat-up laptop, and a bottle of high-dosage magnesium supplements he took whenever his chest started to feel like it was collapsing.
"Dorms are full, Mr. Asada," the housing office lady had told him with a sympathetic wince. "Unless you want to sleep in the gymnasium with the overflow freshmen, I suggest you look at the 'Work-Study Housing' board."
That was how he found the flyer. It was printed on thick, cream-colored cardstock—not the cheap paper everyone else used.
LIVE-IN CAREGIVER WANTED.
High-end off-campus apartment.
Requirements: Cooking, cleaning, schedule management, and absolute discretion.
Salary: Room, board, and a monthly stipend.
Inquire at Unit 404, The Grand Zenith.
The Grand Zenith was the kind of building Mikoto usually avoided. It was glass, steel, and elitism. As the elevator hummed upward to the fourth floor, Mikoto caught his reflection in the polished chrome. At twenty, he still had the lean, wire-muscle build of an athlete, but his eyes looked ten years older. He looked like a man who was constantly bracing for a blow.
Ding.
The doors opened to a private hallway. There was only one door at the end: Unit 404.
Before Mikoto could even reach for the knocker, the door flew open. A girl with a messy blonde ponytail and a tennis racket gripped in her hand stared him down. Her eyes were a piercing, competitive blue.
"You're late," she snapped. Karen Kodakawa. The university’s "Iron Ace."
"The flyer didn't specify a time," Mikoto said, his voice level despite the spike of adrenaline at the sight of the racket. "I’m Mikoto Asada. I’m here about the—"
"The maid job. Yeah, I know. Get in here. Shino is losing her mind because the WiFi is lagging, and Marin is currently crying over a script about a dying dog."
Karen grabbed the front of his hoodie and hauled him inside.
Mikoto expected the "Grand Zenith" interior to match the lobby—pristine, minimalist, and expensive. Instead, he stepped into a war zone.
The foyer was buried under a drift of luxury shopping bags and discarded athletic tape. The scent of expensive French perfume fought a losing battle against the smell of a burnt microwave burrito. To his left, the living room was a sea of scattered papers.
"Is that... a designer dress being used as a rug?" Mikoto asked, pointing to a crumpled heap of silk on the floor.
"It’s a Gucci. Marin hated the sequins," Karen said, stepping over a pile of textbooks without a second glance. "MARIN! SHINO! THE GUY IS HERE!"
From the kitchen area, a girl appeared. She was wearing oversized glasses and a lab coat that had definitely seen better days. Shino, the triplet destined for med school. She was holding a tablet in one hand and a half-eaten stick of butter in the other.
"Subject appears to be in his early twenties," Shino muttered, peering at Mikoto over her frames. "Physique suggests former athletic activity. Height: 180cm. Heart rate: slightly elevated. Are you a smoker, Asada? I won't have nicotine tainting my cultures."
"I don't smoke," Mikoto said, his gaze drifting to the butter. "Are you... eating that plain?"
"Brain fuel," Shino said flatly. "I don't have time for 'cooking.' That's what you're for. Can you make a soufflé?"
"I can make a stir-fry and an omelet."
"Acceptable. As long as it has 30 grams of protein."
Then, the final sister appeared. Marin stepped out of a bedroom, looking exactly like the rising star she was—except for the fact that her mascara was smeared down her cheeks and she was wearing a t-shirt that said 'I'd Rather Be Sleeping.'
"He’s cute," Marin sniffled, dabbing her eyes with a silk scarf. "Does he have a secret dark past? It would really help me with my character motivation for my next audition."
"He's a roommate, Marin, not a method acting prop," Karen groaned.
Mikoto looked from the sobbing actress to the butter-eating genius to the aggressive athlete who was currently using her expensive racket to scratch her back. This was the "Triple Crown" of St. Jude’s. The girls every guy on campus dreamed of.
"You three are... the Kodakawa sisters?" Mikoto asked, disbelief coloring his tone.
"In public? We are the Kodakawa Proteges," Shino said, stepping closer. She poked him in the chest with a cold finger. "On campus, we are perfect. We are untouchable. But in this apartment, we are a disaster. If a single photo of this room or a single story about our 'nightmare' habits leaves this door, our father will cut off our tuition, and we will make your life a living hell."
Karen stepped up beside her, leaning her racket against her shoulder. "We need a caregiver, Mikoto. Someone to keep the mask from slipping. You keep us fed, you keep this place clean, and you keep your mouth shut. In exchange, you get the guest suite and a paycheck."
Mikoto looked at the chaos. It was overwhelming. But then he looked at his duffel bag, then at his shaking hand—the one that still remembered the weight of a championship trophy he’d never claimed.
He didn't need a dorm. He needed a place to hide.
"I'll take the job," Mikoto said.
"Good," Karen smirked, throwing her racket onto the sofa, where it landed on a pile of Marin’s scripts. "Start with the kitchen. Something exploded in the oven three days ago, and it’s starting to grow a personality."27Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlq0hUXwYwx
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