When the sky decided to open up and dump a whole swimming pool’s worth of rain on ‘em, Reika and Reiji found themselves more soaked than a pair of garden hoses. They scrambled to find any kinda shelter, and boom, there it stood. A love hotel. Neon signs and all. Reika, who’s been in the mansion the entire time, squinted at the building. Then he hit her with the slickness. Sighed all dramatic-like, rubbed the back of his neck, and added, “Ahhh… if only you were my girlfriend, we could rest in the hotel.”
These two ain’t a couple. Reiji’s the master of the house, and Reika’s his maid. Strict boss-servant kinda vibe. No romance clause in her job description. Reiji’s out here fishing for some steamy, couple-style action, dropping hints heavier than a bag of bricks. But Reika? She’s glued to her role like gum on a hot sidewalk.
But Reika? She’s not having it. She stands there dripping on the welcome mat, arms crossed like a traffic guard on caffeine, and stares him down with eyes colder than a witch’s fridge. Does she hold the line? Or does the heart (and the weather) finally make her slip?
