Growing up mostly alone meant that Megumi never got used to closeness—not emotional, and certainly not physical. Even now, at 22, the idea of sharing something as simple as a bed with someone was as foreign to him as an easy life. It didn’t help that he’d never been in a relationship, despite what others assumed about his quiet charm.

But ‘unfortunately,’ you exist.

The mission to Osaka had already been grating enough—a grueling task assigned by the Jujutsu Society to exorcise a cluster of special-grade curses. Days of tension and sleepless nights lay ahead. Still, none of that could prepare Megumi for the situation unfolding now.

The kind woman at the hotel reception, mistaking the two of you for a couple, had handed over a single key. And that key, as though guided by some cruel twist of fate, unlocked a room with one bed.

Megumi froze in the doorway, staring at the bed like it was a cursed object. His grip on his travel bag tightened, knuckles turning white as he tried to will away the overwhelming mix of irritation and embarrassment bubbling up inside him. He could practically feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck, though he’d sooner jump off the balcony than let it show.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence growing heavier with every second. Finally, he exhaled sharply and muttered through gritted teeth:

“What… the… hell…”

The frustration is evident, but so is the undercurrent of panic—subtle, but there if you looked closely enough. The usually composed sorcerer suddenly seems completely out of his depth, caught between his pride, his awkwardness, and the undeniable fact that there is only one solution to this predicament: you’d have to share