Chapter 10: Living with Lunatics

It’s been a week since I started living with those two bozos.

Seven days.

That’s 168 hours of non-stop noise, clutter, magical accidents, pudding theft, and a shocking lack of personal space.

I used to wake up to silence and maybe just a bit of loneliness.

Now?

Now I wake up to the sound of clattering pans, one-sided arguments with magical mirrors, and the occasional “howling practice” on the balcony.

The sun was already slipping through the curtains when I dragged myself out of bed, still wrapped in my blanket like a sad burrito.

I shuffled into the hallway, greeted by the scent of burnt toast, the hiss of something bubbling over on the stove, and a suspicious smell that made my nose wrinkle.

Ah. Morning.

No school today. No uniform. No schedule. No fake smiling for classmates who think I’m the perfect, graceful class rep and not a reluctant landlord to two supernatural disasters.

In other words, it was Sunday.

My only day off.

And somehow, it still felt like Monday.

xXx

Technically, I live in the master bedroom — far end of the hallway, king-sized bed, biggest windows, private bath, and a hidden walk-in stash behind the closet that my parents probably meant for jewelry or emergency diamonds or something. I use it to hoard snacks, backup hoodies, and limited-edition seasonal drinks.

Lunaria took over the room that used to belong to my older sister. I let her, mostly because it’s closest to the kitchen. That way, whenever she's hungry, she doesn't have to wake me up in the middle of the night and drag my soulless body across the marble floor.

Her room smells like grass after rain and lemon, probably the shampoo she uses to wash her tail in the sink. There’s fur on every surface and a hand-drawn “KEEP OUT (unless you’re Mio!)” sign taped to her door. I pretended not to be flattered.

Reina claimed my younger brother’s room. It’s… organized. To a degree. Her books float, her closet door creaks open by itself, and her bed levitates an inch off the ground. I wonder how my brother would feel about that.

Chester’s been disturbingly unfazed by all of it.

“Shall I bolt down the furniture, Little Mistress?” he asked yesterday, after Reina tried to dry her laundry with a wind spell and accidentally summoned a cyclone.

I said yes.

Now, as I stepped into the kitchen, I knew I had approximately three seconds of peace.

Then it happened.

“YOU ATE MY PUDDING!!”

Lunaria’s shriek rang through the apartment like the Siren from Witchers 3. She was standing barefoot in front of the open fridge, holding an empty cup like she’d just discovered betrayal in its purest form.

Reina, seated at the counter, didn’t even blink. “I thought it was up for grabs.”

“It had my name on it!”

“You spelled your name wrong.”

“I WAS EXCITED!”

I sighed, grabbed a mug, and poured myself a cup of black coffee like I hadn’t heard this exact argument three times this week.

“Can you two not start the war before caffeine?” I mumbled.

“She ATE my—!”

“Yes, I heard. It's tragic. Write a poem about it.”

Reina smirked behind her toast. “Already did.”

Lunaria let out a low growl, ears twitching. “You’re the worst witch ever.”

“At least I don’t smell like dog shampoo and fleas.”

“Oh yeah? Well you smell like wet socks and my grandma’s armpit!!”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“I’M ODDLY SPECIFICALLY MAD!!”

I sipped my coffee in silence, watching them squabble like two very dramatic raccoons.

This is my life now.

And honestly?

I didn’t know whether to scream… or smile.

xXx

After the pudding war subsided (with no clear victor), we migrated to the living room.

Reina plopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, her toast now half-eaten and abandoned on a plate. Lunaria was curled up like a fox on the carpet, tail swaying to the beat of the cartoon jingle blaring from my absurdly large TV. Her eyes were glued to the screen.

I sat on the far end of the couch, enjoying my mug of coffee like it was the only thing keeping my sanity.

Reina glanced over. “Hey, Mio?”

I grunted, which she took as encouragement to continue.

“Do you remember when I said I transferred here for a reason?”

“That line you said dramatically while standing on the roof like a movie protagonist? Yeah. Hard to forget.”

She looked down at her lap, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “I didn’t come here willy-nilly. I’m looking for someone.”

That got my attention. I raised an eyebrow, sipping slowly. “A boyfriend?”

Reina snorted. “Ew. No. My master. She… went missing a while ago.”

From the floor, Lunaria made a soft “ooh~” sound, clearly eavesdropping while pretending to watch a cartoon dog solve crimes.

“I think she’s in danger,” Reina said quietly, her tone shifting for real. “There was this last message. It was scrambled, but it mentioned this city. And something about the barrier lines intersecting here.”

I blinked. “...what does that mean?”

She opened her mouth to answer.

And that’s when Chester appeared silently beside me like a humanoid statue made of rebar, concrete, and spray paint that says "keter class" all over its file.

“Pardon the interruption, Little Mistress,” he said, with polite urgency, while fully knowing that this would ruin my quiet, uneventful day. “There are two prospective tenants in the lobby.”

I didn’t respond immediately. I just stared at him for a moment, processing.

Then I narrowed my eyes. “Are they… normal?”

Chester paused. “Not quite.”

Of course not.

I set my mug down with a sigh heavy enough to crack the marble counter. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

I stood up, already regretting it. “Reina, you’re coming with me.”

She perked up. “Ooh, backup? You got it.”

From the carpet, Lunaria suddenly sprang to her feet, tail wagging. “Ooooh! Can I come? Can I come?!”

I glanced at her, then at Chester.

Yeah. An extra weirdo probably wouldn’t make it any worse.

“…Sure.”

xXx

There are sixteen rooms in this tower, not counting the presidential suite I currently call home.

The layout is simple: the first floor is the lobby — wide, luxurious, full of marble and expensive furniture no one uses. Floors two through nine each have two residential units. Big ones. Originally meant for upper-class salarymen or weird rich couples who wanted floor-to-ceiling wine fridges.

Each unit has two bedrooms, a full kitchen, and more space than anyone realistically needs unless they plan to hoard resources for an apocalypse or raise pet dragons.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and the three of us stepped inside—me, Reina, and the world’s most enthusiastic tail-wagger.

Lunaria was practically bouncing on her toes, clearly expecting the new tenants to be part of a fantasy gacha banner.

Reina leaned against the mirrored wall, arms folded. “So, before Chester cut me off earlier… I wasn’t joking about my master.”

I pressed the button for the first floor. “I figured.”

“She disappeared three years ago. Left behind this weird spell trace and one final letter. That’s how I tracked her here.” Her voice dropped. “I think she might be hiding—or someone’s hiding her.”

I glanced at her reflection in the mirrored panel. “And your solution was to enroll in high school?”

She smiled faintly. “Well, yeah. If she left a clue at the school, I had to get close. Blend in. Investigate.”

“And you thought I was suspicious.”

“I still do,” she said sweetly.

I sighed. “I keep telling you—I’m just one of the daughters of slightly rich parents. That’s it. That’s the whole mystery.”

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding.

Standing by the reception counter were two very normal-looking adults.

The woman wore a crisp navy skirt suit and carried a slim handbag. Her hair was tied in a low bun, and her expression was neutral, maybe a little too composed.

Beside her stood a man in a beige business suit, maybe mid-thirties, with a tired but polite smile. He looked like every overworked commuter I’d ever seen at a Tokyo train station. The kind who buys canned coffee in bulk and probably apologizes to vending machines.

Totally normal.

Suspiciously normal.

“Little Mistress,” Chester said, who appeared from god knows where. “Our prospective tenants. Miss Fuyuko and Mr. Kazu.”

They both gave polite bows.

“Thank you for having us,” Fuyuko said. Her voice was smooth, professional—no hint of emotion behind it.

“A pleasure,” said Kazu, nodding.

I was just about to go into full suspicious landlady mode when both of them looked past me… and locked eyes on Lunaria.

More specifically, her ears and tail.

Lunaria waved cheerfully. “Hi! I’m a werewolf! Nice to meetcha!”

I died a little inside.

There was a pause.

Then, calmly—almost too calmly—Fuyuko returned the greeting. “...I see. Then I suppose it would be appropriate to fully introduce myself, I am a Yuki Onna.”

Kazu nodded slightly. “I’m... technically a hitodama. But I assure you, I pay rent on time.”

I stared at them.

Then at Chester.

Then back at them.

"...Of course you are," I said flatly.

I should've stayed in bed.