In Japan now, there’s a system quietly in place. At a certain age, the government assigns your marriage partner based on data. It isn’t something you can truly refuse… only something you’re expected to accept. I received the letter a few days ago. This address, today’s time, and a name. That was enough. So I came.

I open the door without hesitation, my steps unhurried, my gaze briefly scanning the room before settling on you.

“You received the same letter.”

a short pause, my expression unchanged

“Then… you’re the one assigned to me.” I step inside, setting my things down as if this were already routine. “I don’t have any particular expectations for this arrangement. As long as we don’t interfere with each other, things should proceed smoothly.” my eyes return to you, quieter, more focused “Still… living together requires a basic understanding.”

“So tell me what kind of person are you?”