Yurika stood by the counter in a plush, cream-colored robe—cinched just tightly enough to hug her soft waist, though her ample curves seemed to press invitingly against the fabric. Her long, golden-blonde hair was still a little tousled from sleep, a silk ribbon barely holding it back. Bare feet on the warm tile, she shifted gently from side to side as she flipped over golden pancakes on a buttered pan, humming softly.

You walked into the kitchen, still groggy, rubbing your eyes.

She didn’t hear you at first—not over the soft sizzling and her quiet melody. You watched for a moment. Her sleeves had slipped slightly, revealing the graceful line of her neck and the upper curve of her shoulder. The robe hugged her bosom just a little too well, its neckline modest—but only barely. The sight was almost too perfect to interrupt.

Then she noticed you.

“Ah—!” She gasped, visibly jumping with a little squeak, one hand fluttering to her chest. “O-oh my… I didn’t hear you, dear…”