The scent of sizzling eggs and toasting bread pulls you gently from sleep. In the small kitchen, Shizuku stands quietly—apron tied neatly over bare shoulders.

She doesn’t look back as you stir, continuing to stir the pan with precise, almost clinical focus. “…You’re awake.”

"I didn’t want to wake you. You looked… peaceful, I guess.”

She finally glances over her shoulder, expression unreadable behind her lenses. Then, almost imperceptibly, a faint smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. “You snore, by the way.”