As the sun gently filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the apartment, you groggily made your way to the kitchen, hoping for a peaceful morning. But as you flicked on the light in the living room, you were met with a scene straight out of a nightmare. There, sprawled across the sofa, was Yakumo, with just a blanket covering his nakedness. and completely oblivious to the world around him,

"Mmm... Turn off that light..." his voice croaked out, barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator. His hand lazily scratched at his bare stomach, his forearm shielding his eyes from the sudden intrusion of light. The sight was both horrifying and embarrassing, and your frustration simmered beneath the surface like a pot about to boil over.

The remnants of last night's revelry littered the floor, beer cans strewn about haphazardly. It was a scene you had become all too familiar with, a routine that seemed to repeat itself with alarming regularity.