Chapter 15: Stairs and Step Stools

Stairs and Step Stools

That’s it—I should sit the way my senpai did.

If I’m wearing a skirt, then just like the senpai I admired in high school, I should sit gracefully, keeping my legs together like a proper lady.

Back then, when she rode home on her boyfriend’s bike, she perched delicately to the side, her legs neatly aligned.

So I followed her example, sitting sideways on the seat and wrapping my arms tightly around his waist.

My right chest pressed against his back—but that was just to keep myself from falling. It wasn’t intentional. Really.

Fufu, even the senpai I admired wasn’t this close to her boyfriend. Hehe, I’ve finally surpassed her. I’ve grown up.

His apartment building feels old. Really old. And inconvenient. To reach his floor, we have to climb five flights of steep stairs.

If I end up living here with him, this is going to be rough. Climbing these stairs every single day? Just thinking about it exhausts me.

He stays close behind me, making sure no one can see up my skirt.

The moment I asked, he did it without hesitation. It’s such a small thing, but it makes my heart warm—like he’s protecting me.

Phew… But still, this is tough.

For me, climbing these narrow, steep stairs to the fifth floor is basically a light mountain hike.

Sure enough, just as I feared, the cramped steps trip me up, and by the fourth floor, I stumble, catching myself with my hands.

“Kyaa!” A startled scream escapes my lips.

Instantly, he reaches out from behind, wrapping his arms around me to lift me back up.

But in doing so… his hands land directly on my chest.

“Eek!” This time, my voice is smaller, but another squeak slips out.

I know he didn’t do it on purpose, but when someone grabs you from behind like that, there’s no way not to react.

The lingering warmth of his hands seeps into my skin, sending a sweet, unfamiliar sensation coursing through me. A feeling I don’t know how to handle.

It’s nothing like when that ba_st_ard touched me. No revulsion, no disgust. I don’t hate it at all.

No—that ba_st_ard isn’t even human. He’s a beast. Comparing him to my boyfriend is an insult. I won’t do it.

I mustn’t think about him.

“Excuse me for intruding,” I murmur as I step inside his apartment. My heart pounds, a sweet, nervous excitement swelling in my chest. I, his girlfriend, have finally set foot in his place.

To me, this is nothing short of a historic moment.

A month ago, I couldn’t have even imagined this. Everything is happening so fast… Where is this going? What will become of me?

I slip off my shoes and step inside, a rush of anticipation filling me—but at the same time, something feels… off.

“Wow, you really keep this place tidy! Or, well… there’s barely anything here.”

The source of my unease becomes clear—the stark emptiness of his living room.

It’s even bigger than my family’s, yet it’s almost completely bare. Just a vast, vacant space.

I always had a feeling, but now it’s obvious—my boyfriend is a little… peculiar.

“Simple is best,” he says.

Haah… Sure, it’s simple, but best? I wouldn’t go that far.

There’s not even a table. Where does he eat? I’m honestly baffled.

He tells me to sit in his computer chair, but… then where is he supposed to sit?

My answer comes immediately—he plops down on a step stool.

“Ehh? But isn’t that just a step stool?”

“Well, it can be used as one, but it’s actually a high-step chair—pretty handy, don’t you think?”

I have no idea what makes it so great.

Why not just buy a regular chair or a sofa?

He’s got plenty of space, and as someone in accounting, I know he earns enough to afford proper furniture.

Haa…

Well, whatever.

There’s a silver lining.

If I end up living here, I’ll just furnish the place however I like.

Fufu, I’ll think about the future when the time comes.

Right now, what happens next is more important.

“Ahh, I messed up… I forgot the cleaning supplies.”

I dramatically clutch my head in feigned distress. But this is all an act—I never intended to bring cleaning supplies in the first place. Of course I didn’t.

There’s no way I had the guts to lug a broom, a bucket, or a dustpan onto the train.

Sure, I could have brought a rag and some detergent, but carrying those on my first-ever visit to his place? No thanks.

There’s nothing even remotely romantic about a rag.

The whole “I’ll help clean” thing? Just an excuse to come over.

He doesn’t question it at all. Instead, he simply hands me a bottle of tea. Fufu, we really are on the same wavelength.

From a quick glance, the place already seems spotless. There’s no real reason for me to clean, so it’s not a problem.

No, the real problem comes when he opens the fridge. The moment I peek inside, a shock runs through me.

“Ah… there’s nothing in here.”

My carefully laid plans come crashing down.

I’d intended to whip up a quick dinner using whatever leftovers he had.

Cooking up decent meals from scraps is my specialty. I wanted to show off, impress him, and earn his praise.

Gah… How foolish of me.

I knew nothing—absolutely nothing—about the reality of a single guy’s lifestyle.

Now, we sit together, so close our foreheads could touch, eating the instant ramen that seems to be his staple food.

It’s a scene befitting a couple, and in its own way, it’s not so bad. But as I watch him eat, I make up my mind—I need to cook proper meals for this man.

Cup ramen and convenience store bentos are no way to live. He’ll get sick at this rate.

I want him to eat my home-cooked meals every single day, full of love and care.

After some idle chatter, I notice a stain in the sink. Without thinking, I slip on a cute pink apron and start scrubbing.

The apron is way too “newlywed wife.” I had planned to bring something more neutral, but somehow, this one ended up in my bag.

I have no idea how that happened.

No… that’s a lie. I know exactly why. This is my first-ever boyfriend, and I’m completely head over heels.

The cleaner I’m using, “Scarily Effective Stain Remover,” isn’t actually anything special—it’s just an ordinary melamine sponge, so I have to scrub hard.

Technically, you’re not supposed to use melamine sponges on sinks, but I don’t have citric acid, baking soda, or even proper detergent. This will have to do.

Next time, I’ll come over in the morning and pick up real cleaning supplies from the supermarket nearby.