Bab 7: Arrival.
With a deep sigh, I slowly stirred awake, feeling the soft embrace of the morning light filtering through the curtains. My head still heavy with the weight of last night's events, I glanced to my side.
There, sleeping peacefully, was an ethereal beauty with blue hair that glistened faintly in the sunlight. She was my stepsister, a presence that had been both familiar and enigmatic to me.
Her delicate features were serene now, but the memory of the curse that had struck her the night before haunted my mind. Even in her sleep, she struggled, as evidenced by the slight signs of tension around her closed eyes.
Due to this incident, I ended up staying awake so late that by the time I finally made it to my bed, sheer exhaustion overtook me.
The moment my back touched the mattress, it felt as though every ounce of energy had drained from my body, and I collapsed into a deep, heavy slumber without even a second thought.
Now, I wasn't sure how to carry myself around her anymore.
Our relationship had become awkward and strained as a result of yesterday's events. I could still feel it pressing down on me like a weight hanging in midair.
With a heavy sigh, I muttered under my breath, "Hah… that's a matter for another time—when she wakes up."
Letting go of the residual discomfort, I dragged myself out of bed, feeling the cool morning breeze on my skin as I readied myself for the day.
Today wasn't just any day. Dad and her mother were scheduled to visit, and the pressure to make everything appear normal gnawed at my nerves.
I needed to be meticulous—no loose ends, no signs of yesterday's mishap.
As I pulled on my clothes, a single thought looped through my mind: What if she tells them?
The mere idea made my stomach churn. If she let slip even a hint of what happened yesterday, I was as good as done.
Cooked. There'd be no explaining my way out of it.
Bracing myself, I vowed to tread carefully, though the tension of the day ahead already felt suffocating.
***
"Yo, Shinji, long time no see, huh?"
The voice reached me just as I finished setting the last plate of breakfast on the table. A moment later, the doorbell chimed, as if the universe wanted to make sure my peaceful morning didn't last a second longer.
Sighing, I wiped my hands and went to open the door and was greeted by two people.
"Hello, Dad... and Aunt," I said, my voice caught somewhere between politeness and disbelief.
Standing before me was a man who could've been mistaken for an older, slightly bolder version of me.
He had the same sharp features, the same height, but with age-lined confidence that made him look like a character out of a story I hadn't read yet. His hair, slicked back like he'd spent extra time perfecting it this morning, glinted in the sun.
But then there was... the outfit.
Gone was the suit he'd usually wear like armor. Instead, he had swapped it for a vibrant T-shirt that looked like it had been plucked from a souvenir stall at a tropical resort.
Pairing that with shorts—yes, shorts—and finishing it off with tinted sunglasses, he looked more like someone auditioning for a role in "laid-back tourist chic" than the man I remembered.
He grinned at me, his tone dripping with overly familiar warmth, as though we were old friends meeting at a reunion instead of father and son navigating whatever this relationship was.
It wasn't bad, per se, but it was a lot.
'You're not young anymore,' I thought, sizing him up. Thirty-six isn't exactly the twilight years, but it's definitely old enough to think twice before wearing something that colorful—or greeting your son like a college buddy.
Next to him stood a beautiful woman with light blue hair that fell gracefully around her shoulders.
Compared to her daughter, she had a more mature presence, with sharper features and a confident air. A subtle, knowing edge ran through her expressions and her poised posture, as though she were always one step ahead.
Her overall appearance was both striking and understated, blending elegance with a sense of quiet authority and calmness.
"You're Shinji, right? Hello! I'm Harumi Hoshizora, your new stepmother. It's so nice to finally meet you!" She said cheerfully, her voice brimming with warmth.
Before I could even react, she rushed forward and pulled me into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around me as though we'd known each other forever.
I froze in place, completely caught off guard.
This wasn't what I had expected at all.
My mind raced, struggling to reconcile her bright, affectionate demeanor with the reserved image of a mother figure I had imagined. How could someone like her be my stepmother? She's so… different.
"It's not fair, Harumi! I'm the boy's father!" My father, witnessing her bold display of affection, scowled and stepped forward, his voice tinged with mock jealousy.
Without missing a beat, he lunged in and hugged me as well, his arms tightening around me in a gesture that felt both possessive and competitive.
Harumi let go and stepped back, her laughter spilling out in a way that seemed intentionally provocative. She raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Phew, phew! If you're slow, you'll lose your chance!" she teased, her tone playful but sly.
I stood there awkwardly, sandwiched between my father's possessive embrace and Harumi's radiant energy.
The stark difference between her and her daughter left me feeling even more bewildered.
Is this really my life now?
'Yes, this is your life now.'
"Okay, breakfast is ready; let's go in," I said, offering a brief glance at the two of them, still caught up in their usual back-and-forth.
I scratched the back of my head as I stepped inside the house, letting them continue their conversation behind me.
Despite the constant tension between Dad and his partner, I was secretly glad that Dad finally had someone in his life again.
It had been a long time since Mom left him, and I had grown tired of seeing him alone.
If this relationship could bring him some happiness, then maybe—just maybe—I wouldn't have to worry about him as much anymore. The thought comforted me, even though I didn't always show it.
"Shinji, has Yuki had a chance to familiarize herself with you yet?" But before I could get any further, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
Startled, I turned to find my father standing behind me, his expression casual and his tone oddly friendly—more like a peer than a parent asking a simple question.
I nodded, just a slight movement of my head, my face blank as I responded with a single word, "Already."
He studied me for a moment as if weighing my words carefully. "So, what do you think of her?"
His voice seemed lighter than usual, almost as if he were asking about a passing acquaintance instead of something more serious.
I hesitated, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over me. "Hard to say." The answer came out softly, almost absently, as I struggled to put my feelings into words.
Truth be told, I was still processing everything from yesterday, and there was no way I could bring myself to talk about it—about that—even if he asked me a thousand times.
There were certain things that I had previously promised myself I would never discuss.
He didn't push further, but I could tell he was still curious.
"Hmm, is that so?" He said thoughtfully, but then, to my surprise, he leaned in a bit closer, his hand absentmindedly resting on his chin, fingers lightly stroking the stubbled edge of his mustache.
"So, do you like her?"
The question caught me off guard.
The word "like" seemed to hold a weight I wasn't ready to address. I found myself unsure about the meaning of what he was asking.
What did "like" mean in this context? Was it a simple admiration or something deeper?
Come on, don't ask me such a difficult question!
But I couldn't ignore him either; once Dad asked, he wanted an answer.
"It would be a lie to say I don't like her, but it's complicated," I said carefully.
In situations like these, especially when dealing with someone like my father, it's always best to use vague, circular words.
They serve a dual purpose: to hide my true feelings while also allowing him to think he's in control, letting him feel some semblance of satisfaction in his own assumptions.
His eyes narrowed, a sharp glint flashing behind them as he processed my words.
A slight chuckle escaped his lips, but his gaze remained intense, almost predatory. "Is that so… then treat her well. But maybe I don't need to remind you, right?"
His smile was thin and dangerous, as if testing me, before his expression shifted in the blink of an eye.
The change was instantaneous—his voice dropped a few octaves, and an overwhelming pressure seemed to fill the room. It was the kind of tone that sent chills down your spine, a deep, commanding sound that made everything feel suffocating.
In an instant, the warmth that had been in his words was replaced by a terrifying seriousness. When my father wasn't joking, he was a force to be reckoned with.
His presence alone could make even the bravest hesitate
But I wasn't average either. I had learned long ago how to hold my ground when facing him, and how to navigate his mood swings without flinching.
I flashed a smile back at him, not as a sign of submission, but as a way of asserting my own control in this little exchange.
Then, with a light, almost playful tap on his shoulder, I began to turn toward my room. "Yeah, sure… now sit at the table, Dad. I have to go wake up Hoshizora," I said, maintaining a calm tone, masking the tension that lingered in the air between us.
"Very well." He smirked and went inside the kitchen.
'Hah, what a troubling person.' I sighed and turned into my room, ready to wake Hoshizora up.
Okay, Sleeping Beauty, it's time to wake up.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone