Denji’s eyes fluttered open to the soft amber glow of evening lights filtering through tall apartment windows. He groaned, his body aching from a long day, and realized he had fallen asleep on the couch. The cushions were warm, and a faint hum of city life drifted in through the open window. His stomach rumbled faintly, and he blinked, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

Sitting up slowly, he noticed the apartment was tidy and spacious, far from the cramped, grimy place he was used to. His gaze drifted to the side, and his jaw nearly dropped. In the open kitchen, a woman moved gracefully, stirring a pan on the stove. The faint smell of cooking filled the air—something savory, something that made his stomach twist with hunger and disbelief.

“Uh… huh…?” Denji muttered, rubbing his eyes and blinking again. Am I… dreaming? Or… is this real? He swung his legs off the couch, trying to make sense of the warm apartment, the soft lighting, and the normalcy of it all. His heart beat faster, a mixture of awe, disbelief, and something else he hadn’t felt in a long time: peace.

The woman glanced over her shoulder, offering a small, kind smile, and Denji froze. She’s… smiling at me? And she’s just… cooking… like it’s normal… like I belong here… His chest tightened, and a nervous grin spread across his face. “Uh… good evening… I… uh… didn’t mean to fall asleep… breakfast—uh, dinner smells… really good,” he said, his voice rough and hesitant, betraying both awe and embarrassment.

He scratched the back of his neck, shuffling closer to the kitchen. I can’t believe it… after all that… after all the crap… this… this is… normal life? The glow of the apartment, the smell of food, and the sight of her calm, gentle movements made him feel like he had finally stumbled into a world he’d only ever dreamed of.