Chapter 42

Chapter 42: Call Me Yuki

“Then I’ll obey the Master’s order and not bring this matter up again for now.”

Shimizu Sakuya steadied herself and stood up, straightened the apron that had been wrinkled, then one by one uprighted the skincare bottles that had been knocked over on the table.

Although she had managed to muddle through for now with Fujiwara Yuki, it didn’t mean she could relax.

Her gaze was like a camera locked onto its subject, firmly and eagerly watching her, waiting to catch the moment she slipped up.

When Shimizu Sakuya finished tidying the tabletop, Fujiwara Yuki’s eyes had not left her for even a moment.

Shimizu Sakuya understood Fujiwara Yuki’s thoughts, but the best approach now was to play dumb.

Right now, she would rather do nothing than make a mistake.

So Shimizu Sakuya ignored Fujiwara Yuki’s burning stare, tugged at her apron, and reminded:

“There’s not much time left, Master. After we eat, we have to go to school. I’ll go change out of this maid outfit first.”

“Go ahead.”

“Then see you in a bit, Master.” Shimizu Sakuya responded as she said goodbye, turning to head toward the door.

After that sentence, Fujiwara Yuki said nothing more, took a few steps back, relaxed her body and sat down at the edge of the bed, her hands falling limply along the bedside.

Watching her footsteps lightly land on the pure white wool carpet, watching her figure quietly depart, watching her fair, soft arms lift as she reached to turn the doorknob—

A feeling that couldn’t be described suddenly surged in Fujiwara Yuki’s chest, intense and sour, like a dormant volcano buried in her heart began to boil, lava churning madly, about to erupt and blot out the sky at any second.

She couldn’t bear the feeling any longer and called out.

“Sakuya.”

“What is it, Master?” Shimizu Sakuya turned her head, showing a standard toothy smile.

She looked very friendly, but Fujiwara Yuki didn’t feel any closeness at all.

Looking at Shimizu Sakuya, she felt inexplicably a little disheartened, and softly requested.

“Sakuya, you don’t need to call me Master anymore… just call me Yuki.”

“Okay, Yuki.” She agreed immediately, and asked curiously, “Did you get tired of playing this master-servant game?”

“No, I just wanted to change what you call me.”

“I see. Then, Yuki, do you have any other instructions?”

Fujiwara Yuki stood up and took her phone from the dressing table, then quickly walked over to Shimizu Sakuya in a few brisk steps.

Her pace was swift like a gust of wind. She shoved the phone into Sakuya’s hand in a strong and forceful manner.

“I don’t have your email address yet. Type it in.”

Shimizu Sakuya entered her email address on the white-glowing screen, then shook her wrist showing her watch, reminding her.

“As long as you call me during school, Yuki, I’ll receive the signal and come find you. There’s really no need for email.”

Of course she knew — but a wristwatch isn’t a walkie-talkie.

“I get it. Go get changed first. We’ll have breakfast in the dining room later.”

When the door slammed shut, Fujiwara Yuki returned to the bedside in a state of longing and loss, collapsed onto it, and lay there, thoughts swirling.

She was a little regretful.

Actually, she could’ve had her call her something more intimate… or even a little embarrassing. After all, her tolerance seemed surprisingly strong.

It’s a bit confusing.

Is she really that person or not? If not, how does she know so many details? If she is, then why is she keeping such distance?

The ending should’ve been a happy one.

And a kind of inexplicable complexity.

She hadn’t exactly treated her well — maybe even too domineeringly. If she really was that person… What should she do?

Fujiwara Yuki dazedly brushed her upper lip. It was cool.

But it was nothing like her. Her lips had been warm and soft.

When feeding her — that touch had been moist and ambiguous, tinged with danger.

The light, elegant fragrance from her body during archery still seemed to linger at the tip of her nose.

When they bathed — that wet, intimate closeness, those half-transparent clothes…

And when she sprinted back from the vending machine — golden hair disheveled, sticking to her forehead, breath ragged, and the light flush rising from her neck to her cheeks…

Fujiwara Yuki covered half her face with her arm, her eyes unfocused. At this point, even her breathing had become uneven.

Wait a second! What the hell am I thinking!?

Only now realizing it, she suddenly snapped awake, and covered her eyes, as if doing so could block out the filthy thoughts from just now.

After calming down for a while, Fujiwara Yuki sat up and walked to the dressing mirror, looking at her blushing cheeks in the reflection.

Human desire really is vulgar and disgusting.

She raised her hand and, with some self-loathing, slapped herself hard across the right cheek.

A bright red palm print appeared, burning hot. Fujiwara Yuki didn’t feel sad — instead, she felt a sense of relief.

But she couldn’t go out with a slap mark on her face, so she picked up the primer and foundation from the vanity.

…

When Shimizu Sakuya changed into her school uniform and came down to breakfast, Fujiwara Yuki was already seated.

She was sipping milk in small mouthfuls, with more than half of her sandwich and fried egg already gone — it was obvious she was about to finish eating.

“Do you want to eat something?” She put down her glass and pointed at the table full of breakfast items, looking curiously at her.

From French baguette toast with ham and eggs to Chinese-style dumplings and steamed buns — everything imaginable was there.

Truly luxurious.

Even with such a spread, Shimizu Sakuya, due to health reasons, couldn’t eat anything too greasy.

So she replied, “Something light.”

Then she picked up a tray from the moving food cart, walked around the table, and ended up with just a bowl of plain porridge and a steamed egg.

Fujiwara Yuki had already finished breakfast and was wiping her mouth — everything appeared normal.

So normal, in fact, that it seemed excessive — especially after the furious outburst from earlier.

But in reality, the only chair originally placed across from Fujiwara Yuki had been moved to her side.

In other words — she had to eat the whole breakfast under Fujiwara Yuki’s intense gaze?

Just imagining it made her scalp tingle. Being stared at like that — no one could handle it.

“What’s wrong? Sit.” Fujiwara Yuki casually tossed the napkin into the nearby trash bin and pointed at the chair next to her.

Then she crossed her legs, folded her arms, and looked at her with a scrutinizing gaze. “What are you spacing out for?”

“…”

Shimizu Sakuya was silent for a moment, then replied: “Coming.”

She understood Fujiwara Yuki’s intention — to observe her from every daily detail, to verify her suspicions.

But there was no need to avoid it. All of her similar habits could be explained.

As long as she didn’t expose the details only the two of them knew.

So Shimizu Sakuya braced herself and slowly sat down beside her.

Fujiwara Yuki now became fully interested, turning her body sideways, resting her cheek on one hand, smiling brightly as she watched Shimizu Sakuya.