Chapter 8: Hospitality Without a Maid

Sunday morning—

“I’m here, Keiji! ♡”

“…Yeah, welcome, Maki.”

Truth be told, I’d rather she hadn’t come. But I’m not heartless enough to turn away a friend who’s gone out of her way to visit my house. I’m too soft for that.

Maki stands just outside the front door, dressed in casual clothes that suit her effortlessly. A white off-shoulder knit top hugs her frame, paired with a denim miniskirt that leaves her shoulders and legs bare—a breezy choice for the still-chilly April air.

“So, pretty cute, right? Maki-chan’s got a decent chest, so I went with a snug knit top!” she chirps, striking a playful pose.

“Thanks for the service, considering I don’t even have a girlfriend,” I reply dryly.

“Ugh, getting thanked makes it kinda awkward… C’mon, get flustered or something!”

I deliberately sidestep the reaction she’s fishing for, keeping my tone flat.

“Whatever, fine. Can I take pics of your place?”

“Taking pics is okay, but don’t post them on social media or anything.”

“There’s already a ton of photos of this place online, y’know? It’s an old Western-style mansion, so some sites treat it like a haunted hotspot.”

“Couldn’t we sue those sites or something?” I mutter, half-serious.

Haunted hotspot—meaning a ghost spot, I suppose. How rude of people to treat someone’s home like a haunted mansion.

“Alright, that’s enough outdoor pics. Time to come in!” Maki declares, already stepping forward.

“You’re acting like you own the place, Maki,” I say with a sigh, holding the door open for her.

To think I’d end up inviting a girl from my class into my home—and Maki’s the second one, no less.

“Oh, Keiji, you’re not seriously taking me to the parlor, are you?” Maki asks, her tone teasing as she trails behind me.

“Huh? That’s where you take guests, isn’t it?”

“I wanna see your real life, Keiji! The parlor’s boring!”

“You’re just gonna blurt out your true intentions like that?” I mutter, half-exasperated. “Fine, then my room—”

“The living room’s better.”

“…”

I was about to lead her to my bare, just-moved-in room, figuring she’d end up there anyway. Damn Maki, reading my intentions like it’s nothing. Reluctantly, I pivot and guide her toward the living room instead.

“Whoa, so this is the living room of the Kiyomiya Family Old Manor?” Maki exclaims, her eyes gleaming with shameless curiosity as she scans the space. “It’s huge. Huge, but, like…”

“It’s a mess,” she finishes, spotting my school bag sprawled on the floor. “Wow, your bag’s just lying there!”

“It’s fine, whatever.”

Yeah, my living room’s a mess. A high school guy living alone? It’d be weirder if it was tidy.

“The second floor’s such a hassle. When I get home, I come straight here to chill.”

“Wow, that’s some serious laziness,” Maki says, shooting me a look of disbelief.

The living room isn’t just home to my school bag—there’s a handheld gaming console, magazines, and some casual clothes strewn over a chair, all evidence of my less-than-organized lifestyle.

“Keiji, are you, like, living in the living room?” Maki asks, her voice laced with amusement.

“No way I expected a guest to barge in and make a beeline for the living room, okay?” I retort, feeling a bit defensive.

“That’s what we call letting your guard down, Keiji,” she says, cackling with laughter.

She probably predicted my living space would be like this. Seems my living room’s meeting—or maybe even exceeding—Maki’s expectations.

“But, like, I’m kinda touched I finally got to come to your place,” Maki says, her tone softer, almost sincere.

“Touched? Is it that big a deal? You never said you wanted to come over before.”

“Look, even I’d feel intimidated by the Kiyomiya Family Main Residence, okay?”

“I don’t recall ever intimidating you,” I counter, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t say you were scary, Keiji. You’re cool—chill, friendly.”

“…Well, I’m half-commoner, after all.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Maki says with a shrug, then bursts into her signature cackling laugh.

She’s dead serious—she genuinely doesn’t care one bit about the commoner blood in my veins.

“Anyway, Keiji, I’m not seeing any tea being served here.”

“No hospitality for you,” I shoot back.

“That’s what you say when a guest leaves! Here, I brought a gift. A guy living alone probably doesn’t have any tea snacks, right?”

I’d noticed Maki holding a small box earlier. I take it from her, leave the living room, and head down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Phew…”

“How’d it go?” a voice asks.

“Whoa, you were here?” I blink, startled.

Sayaka-san stands in the kitchen, dressed in her maid outfit, her presence as composed as ever.

“I’m not the type to sneak around,” she continues. “Hiding like this is already a big compromise for me.”

“The fewer people who know your secret, the better, right?”

“I think we can trust your friend, Kiyomiya-kun.”

“Hmm… I’m not sure we should trust someone who calls herself an info broker that much. Maki’s not a bad person, but she’s got a loose tongue and zero tact.”

“Birds of a feather, then.”

“…”

Birds of a feather—who’s she talking about here?

“Oh, linger too long, and Sogano Maki-san might show up. I’m fine with it, but you’d rather avoid that, right, Kiyomiya-kun? I’ll follow my master’s wishes.”

“Master? No,” I say, brushing off the title. “Anyway, this is probably cake. Opera and cheesecake, I bet.”

I set the box Maki gave me on the kitchen table.

“How do you know?”

“I know Maki’s tastes. And she knows mine.”

Opera’s a type of chocolate cake, and Maki’s always leaned toward slightly bitter flavors over sweet ones. Sayaka-san carefully opens the box with delicate hands, her movements precise.

“I see—indeed opera and cheesecake,” she confirms. “And a strawberry shortcake.”

“Huh?”

I lean over to peer into the box. Sure enough, there’s the dark, glossy opera, the light brown cheesecake, and a shortcake topped with big, juicy strawberries.

“Why are there three?” I mutter, puzzled.

“Well, maybe one’s for you to eat later, Kiyomiya-kun. Or perhaps…?”

Maki, with her flashy blonde hair, might seem like an airhead, but she’s sharp. That’s why, even as an outlier in a school full of model students, she manages to play info broker and connect with others effortlessly.

“Hey, Keiji!” Maki’s voice cuts through the air. “I need to use the bathroom—where is it?”

“…!”

I whip around, startled. Maki’s already stepping into the kitchen, her casual confidence filling the space.

“Oh, there you are. This place is seriously huge.”

“…Don’t just wander around someone’s house,” I grumble, trying to keep my cool.

In that split second, Sayaka-san seems to have vanished. There’s a pantry right next to the kitchen—a storage room for food and dishes. She must’ve slipped in there, quick as a shadow.

“Maki, why are there three cakes?”

“I told you I saw the Kiyomiya Family Old Manor online, right? No way you’re living in a mansion this big alone. I figured you’ve got staff, so I got cakes for them. But these cakes are pricey, so three was my limit.”

“Some frugal rich girl you are…” I mutter.

Or just plain cheap.

For a second, I panicked, thinking she knew about Sayaka-san, but I was overthinking it.

“Oh, the bathroom, right,” I say, giving Maki quick directions.

She strides out of the kitchen, heading down the hallway with her usual carefree swagger. I let out a quiet breath. That was close. If she found out I have a maid, it might not spread through the whole school—but Maki would tease me relentlessly, grinning like a cat with a new toy.

“Alright, you can come out now,” I call softly toward the pantry. “It’s cramped in there, right? I’ll brew the tea myself, so just head back to your room—”

I slide open the pantry door.

“…!”

Before I can react, my hand’s grabbed, and I’m yanked inside. The door slams shut with a bang, plunging us into the dim, cramped space.

“S-Sayaka-san?” I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t know much about Sogano Maki-san,” she says, her tone calm but laced with curiosity. “Just that she’s the flashy blonde weirdo, that’s about it.”

“W-Well, that’s not exactly wrong, but…”

The pantry’s tiny—barely enough room for two people to pass each other. With two high schoolers crammed in, it’s so tight it’s practically suffocating. Sayaka-san’s full, curvy chest presses against mine, and from the momentum of being pulled in, my leg accidentally brushes against her above-the-knee skirt, lifting it slightly to reveal her pale thighs—

“Where are you looking?”

“I’m innocent! I’m not a creep!” I blurt out, my face heating up.

“I didn’t call you a creep. Are you thinking impure thoughts?”

“No way.” It’s like being on a packed train, and I’ve just blurted out the dumbest excuse possible.

“Fine, then,” Sayaka-san says, her tone softening. “You know, Maki-san says some good stuff.”

“…Did she drop some profound quote or something?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation anywhere else.

“She said a mansion this big needs staff, didn’t she? I wish she’d say it more.”

“No matter what Maki says, I’m not falling for it,” I reply, keeping my voice steady despite the situation.

Honestly, being this close to Sayaka-san is making it impossible to think straight.

“Too bad. Oh, I’ll brew the tea. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful not to get caught. When I get serious, dodging an info broker’s eyes is child’s play.”

“…Please do.”

Sayaka-san’s smart, athletic, and sharp as a tack. She’s not just your average model student. The fact that she might even outsmart Maki is, honestly, a little terrifying.