Chapter 19 — The Scent That Wasn’t Hers

Rurika hadn’t spoken for almost the entire walk. She kept glancing at Kei in the glow of the street lamps, cheeks still pink from embarrassment and adrenaline.

Kei walked beside her with steady steps, hands in his pockets, trying to keep things simple.

“You should be more careful,” he said quietly.

“I-I know…” Rurika muttered, hugging her bag closer. “I didn’t think something like that would happen.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Kei said, “but if someone bothers you again, go straight to the station staff. Or call someone.”

Rurika looked down, her bangs hiding her eyes. “I didn’t know who to call.”

Kei glanced her way. “Next time, call a teacher. Or your mother.”

“My mother’s busy,” she whispered. “And my father’s gone.”

Kei hesitated. “I’m sorry.”

She swallowed. “But… thank you. For helping me.”

They reached her street. Rurika’s apartment gate was dimly lit. She unlocked it while sneaking another look at him.

“Goodnight,” Kei said gently.

She opened her mouth to answer—but her heel caught the edge of a concrete step. Rurika stumbled forward.

“Ah—!”

Kei reacted instantly, catching her by the arm before she hit the ground. Rurika’s breath stopped. She felt his hand on her shoulder, firm and steady.

For a split second, she stayed there—half leaning against him, eyes wide.

Kei let go immediately. “Be careful.”

“S-sorry…” her voice cracked, too soft.

“It’s fine,” he said, stepping back. “Go inside. Lock the door.”

Rurika nodded, heart racing.

When she closed the gate behind her, she watched his back retreat down the road.

She bit her lip.

“So that was him,” she whispered.

“The man from the photo… Touko’s papa.”

Her fingers touched the gate Kei had just held open.

Warm.

Too warm.

Slowly, a smile curled at the edge of her lips.

---

Later That Night

Kei reached home far later than usual.

The lights were still on.

Inside, Yui had tried to convince her daughter to sleep for the last twenty minutes. Touko sat on the couch with her blanket draped over her lap, refusing to move.

“Mama, I’m not tired.”

“You have school tomorrow.”

Touko didn’t blink. “I’ll sleep when Papa comes home.”

“Touko—”

Before Yui could argue again, the front door clicked open.

Kei stepped in, pulling off his shoes with a heavy sigh.

Touko stood immediately.

“Papa.”

He looked up, surprised to see her still awake. “Touko? It’s late. You should be in bed.”

She didn’t move. She walked toward him slowly, her eyes fixed on his clothes—his sleeves, his jacket, the faint dampness from evening air.

Then she stopped right in front of him.

Yui watched from the kitchen doorway.

Touko inhaled once.

A faint perfume… not Yui’s.

A soft sweetness that didn’t belong in their home.

Not hers.

Not her mother’s.

Something unfamiliar.

Her expression didn’t shift, but her body stiffened.

Kei noticed. “Touko?”

She raised her head, looking straight into his eyes.

Her voice was calm. Too calm.

“Who is she?”

The room fell silent.

Kei blinked in confusion. “She?”

Touko stepped closer, close enough that Kei could see the faint tremble in her lashes.

“I smell someone else on you,” she said quietly.

The blanket slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.

“Papa,” her voice dropped softer, tighter, “tell me who she is.”