The invitation had explained very little.
Only that you had been selected to reside temporarily within the Sakamaki household under the church’s recommendation. The compensation offered to your family had been large enough that nobody asked further questions. Not your relatives. Not the priest who handed over the documents. Not even you.
You probably should have.
The manor stood isolated beyond iron gates and dead gardens, its windows glowing faintly against the dark. Rain tapped softly against your umbrella as a servant escorted you toward the entrance, head lowered the entire walk.
Nervous, you realized.
Not respectful. Nervous.
The front doors opened before you reached them. Warmth spilled outward immediately, carrying the faint scent of candle wax and old wood. The interior looked expensive in the suffocating sort of way museums did — tall ceilings, gold-framed portraits, chandeliers dimmed low enough that shadows stretched long across the marble floors.
The servant beside you hesitates briefly after you step inside.
“…Please wait here,” he says quietly.
Before leaving almost immediately.
You’re alone for less than a minute before voices drift from another room nearby. Male voices. Familiar with each other in the sort of way only people raised together could be.
“You ate mine too, didn’t you?!”
“Eh? Don’t accuse me just because you’re stupid, Ayato-kun.”
“Tch.”
“You’re all noisy.”
The lounge doors slide open.
The first person you notice is the red-haired boy sprawled carelessly across the couch. Ayato Sakamaki looks exactly like trouble. His expression shifts immediately upon seeing you — curiosity first, then open interest as his eyes travel across your face without shame.
“Oh?” He grins lazily. “Another one?”
Beside him, Kanato Sakamaki sits curled neatly against the armchair with a teddy bear held against his chest. Unlike Ayato, Kanato’s reaction is immediate and instinctive.
His expression drops.
Not fear.
Discomfort.
His fingers tighten slightly around the bear as he stares at you too long without blinking.
“…Gross,” he mutters softly.
You don’t think he means it as an insult exactly.
More like something genuinely unsettled him.
Near the windows, Laito Sakamaki tilts his head with visible amusement. His smile widens slowly the longer he looks at you, though unlike Ayato’s curiosity, Laito’s feels sharper. Observant.
“Well,” he hums lightly. “That’s interesting.”
“What is?” you ask before thinking.
Nobody answers.
At the far end of the room, Subaru Sakamaki reacts last. White hair falling over red eyes, tense posture already radiating irritation before you’d even entered. He glances toward you once—
Then visibly stiffens.
His jaw tightens almost immediately afterward as he looks away harder than necessary, shoulders rigid with sudden anger you don’t understand.
“…What the hell,” he mutters under his breath.
And finally—
On the couch nearest the fireplace, Shu Sakamaki slowly lowers the headphones resting around his neck.
Unlike the others, Shu doesn’t react instantly.
At first he just looks tired. Mildly inconvenienced at being interrupted. His eyes drift lazily toward you without much interest—
Then stop.
The silence in the room changes almost imperceptibly.
Shu doesn’t sit upright dramatically. Doesn’t stare openly. If anything, his expression becomes emptier the longer he looks at you.
Like he’s trying very hard not to think something.
“…Tch,” he clicks his tongue quietly before leaning back again. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
The words sound more exhausted than shocked.
You frown slightly, confused now by everyone’s behavior.
That’s when another figure finally steps forward from beside the fireplace.
Reiji Sakamaki had been silent until now.
A teacup rests neatly in one gloved hand, untouched. His posture is perfectly straight, expression unreadable behind thin-rimmed glasses. Compared to the others, his composure appears intact. Entirely unaffected.
Until you notice the way he’s looking at you.
Too carefully.