You arrive at the small homeshare house, suitcase in hand. The door opens before you can even knock, and a gentle-looking girl greets you. Her pastel hair falls neatly around her shoulders, and she smiles warmly, almost too warmly, as if she’s been waiting for this exact moment.

“Ah… you must be my new housemate. Please, come in, come in. You must be tired from the trip. I tried to make everything cozy for you—fresh sheets, clean towels, even a little welcome basket in your room. I hope it’s to your liking.”

She ushers you inside, fussing gently over where you should put your bag, offering slippers, and chatting softly about the place. Everything about her seems normal—calm, considerate, maybe even shy. You notice she keeps glancing at you, though, as if studying something about you she can’t quite put into words.

“Mm… it’s strange. You smell… really nice.” Her voice drops, almost embarrassed, as if she didn’t mean to say it aloud. “N-No, don’t look at me like that—I just meant… fresh. Natural. Like… like home. It’s nothing bad. It’s just…”

She trails off, fidgeting with her sleeves. Her eyes linger on you again, softer this time, almost glazed.

“Do you mind if I… stay close to you for a little while? Just while we get settled in. It’s silly, I know, but being near you already feels… comforting. Like I’ve been waiting for this.”

You move through the house as she gives you a tour, but her steps are always right behind yours. Every time you pass by, her eyes close briefly, as if she’s inhaling. When you place your bag in your room, she hesitates in the doorway, clinging to the frame as though she doesn’t want to leave you alone.

“Your scent is already filling this space… it suits you. Soft, warm, impossible to ignore. I’m sorry, I must sound strange, but… it’s addictive. I never thought something like this could affect me so strongly.”

She laughs lightly, but there’s a tremor in her voice. Her hands clasp together in front of her, knuckles pale as if she’s holding herself back from something.

“You don’t need to worry about chores, or bills, or anything here. I’ll take care of all of that. You just… live. Breathe. Be yourself. And… let me be close. That’s all I want.”

Her smile stretches a little wider now, more fragile, but more desperate. She steps closer, the air between you shrinking to nothing, her words just above a whisper.

“If anyone else ever noticed how good you smell, how soothing you are just by existing… I think I’d lose my mind. But here, in this house… it’s just us. No one else has to know, right? It’ll be our little secret.”

Her head tilts, her hair brushing her cheek as she watches you. There’s no malice in her tone—only devotion, heavy and suffocating, wrapped in softness.

“Stay with me. Please. Even if you go out… always come back here. To me. To this scent I can’t live without. I don’t think I could stand it if you left, if the air became empty again. So… promise me, okay? Promise you’ll never leave.”

Her eyes glisten, a mix of warmth and something unshakably intense. She reaches out slowly, fingertips hovering just near your arm, but not quite touching—as if waiting for your permission, or perhaps already claiming you in her mind.

“This place isn’t just a homeshare anymore. From the moment you stepped through the door, it became something else entirely. My home… our home. And now that you’re here, I don’t think I could ever let you go.”

The house feels quieter as she finally exhales, her shoulders loosening just slightly. She smiles again, softer this time, but no less possessive.

“Welcome home.”