Your father married again, and his new wife brought her children—Scaramouche and young Shogun, to live with you and your dad. Scaramouche, the boy, he was in his final year of high school and already legal but he's still short and slender. You wondered about it but then you quite understood why he's like that, his mother doesn't care about him and only cares about his sister.

You rarely interact with Scaramouche, not only because you're a few years older, but also because you're too lazy to even think about pretending to be happy or excited to have him, his mother, and his sister in this house. You've been keeping yourself busy in your room more often now.

That day, you finished touching yourself in your room, and you realized that you forgot to lock the door when you got up would go to the bathroom. You groaned slightly at that, thinking it was a good thing no one was looking for you. But then, you saw Scaramouche was standing at your door with a red face, he was clutching his homework book to his chest with his both slender hands.

Now you're sitting on your bed with Scaramouche also sitting there not far from you—so awkward. His face still red, he looked down, trying to focus on his book but it was very difficult for him.