Chiemi had been drowning in guilt and heartache.
Burying her cheek in the hollow of Wuyou's neck was supposed to be a way to hide her expression.
Even if Wuyou couldn't see, she still didn't want him to witness her fragile side.
But sadness was sadness—she still had to breathe.
Everyone knows that if you want to properly savor the scent of someone you care about, there's an "optimal spot."
And anyone who answers "the other one" can be banished to the porridge bar.
The real best place is the hollow of the neck.
Because beyond the scent itself, getting close enough to smell that area usually requires a posture that's… inherently ambiguous.
At first, Chiemi was only breathing in Wuyou's scent absentmindedly.
Sweet but not cloying. Gentle but not thin.
If Oguri Cap were here, she'd probably smell this and then go eat three extra plates of croquettes.
But as Chiemi kept breathing it in, something felt off.
That faint, lingering fragrance suddenly gained an edge—like it had turned assertive.
It carried an indescribable pull, tugging her attention away from Wuyou's injuries and toward Wuyou himself.
It was practically… refined. Concentrated.
Chiemi's thoughts drifted for a moment.
She lifted her face. Her gaze landed on Wuyou's neck and jawline, close enough to touch.
Her breathing grew quieter without her noticing, and the arms around him tightened slightly.
Wuyou: danger.
He sensed the change immediately.
Why was Chiemi holding tighter and tighter—was she inheriting some of Oguri Cap's "death-grip" technique?!
At this rate, he was going to start making weird villain laughter noises himself.
In Chiemi's eyes, the self-blame hadn't fully faded—but now it was mixed with a hazy, dazed softness.
What had been a gentle embrace had become clingy, almost possessive.
Wuyou froze.
He realized the calming scent he'd released had backfired—far beyond what he intended.
Instead of settling her down, it pulled her deeper into the closeness between them.
"Chiemi?" he called softly, trying to bring her back.
Chiemi didn't seem to hear him. She pressed her cheek in again, voice even softer than before.
"Yuyou… you smell so good…"
Her words carried an unconscious dependence, her warmth flooding over him.
Wuyou instantly felt the situation slipping out of control.
He meant to soothe her—yet somehow he'd stirred something deeper.
Now Chiemi wasn't calming down at all. She was leaning in more, acting on instinct, and he didn't know how to respond.
Her arms tightened like soft vines, wrapping him close enough that his breath hitched.
Wuyou forced himself to steady his tone.
"Chiemi, loosen up a little… weren't you worried about my injury? If you hold me like this, you'll bump it…"
He tried to pull her attention back with reason, shifting his shoulder slightly as he spoke, trying to create the smallest bit of space.
That tiny attempt at escape only triggered a stronger reaction.
Too noisy…
Chiemi's gaze was unfocused.
Everything around her blurred, but that androgynous face stayed strangely clear.
She could see his lips moving—yet couldn't make out what he was saying.
And not being able to understand made her irritated, little by little.
Then Wuyou tried to pull his arm away from her embrace.
That made the darker impulse inside Chiemi surface even more clearly.
"Mmm… don't move…"
She mumbled indistinctly. Not only did she not loosen her hold—she leaned her upper body in, pressing him down with a soft but unmistakably firm force.
It wasn't harsh.
But it was absolutely not negotiable.
Her arms locked across his chest, keeping him pinned in her warmth.
Wuyou's whole body stiffened.
It was bad.
When someone loses sight, their other senses sharpen.
For most people, that's just a "spice" in intimate situations.
For Wuyou, it was like an always-on defensive technique—automatic, constant, impossible to ignore.
Every shift of breath, every change in temperature, every brush of fabric…
All of it arrived amplified.
Chiemi gave a quiet, satisfied little laugh.
"I didn't expect it… Yuyou's actually really well-built… It feels so nice…"
"Wait—Chiemi—don't…"
The more Wuyou tried to move, the more Chiemi pressed in to "subdue" him.
Like a stubborn cat refusing to let its prize slip away—struggle only made the trap tighter.
"Chiemi… listen to me—"
Wuyou's voice turned helpless, edged with urgency.
He could feel Chiemi's breath growing hotter.
That sweet, calming aroma seemed to ferment inside her into something like intoxication, stripping away her usual bright composure and revealing a near-instinctive possessiveness.
Even after Wuyou pulled his power back and tried to let the scent return to normal, the "drunk" effect had already taken hold.
"Not listening…"
Chiemi buried her face deeper, murmuring against his neck, her words heavy with craving.
"Yuyou… it feels so good… like this…"
Logic had drowned beneath scent and sensation, leaving only a foggy, greedy attachment.
Every time Wuyou tried to shift, she interpreted it as him "trying to escape."
So she held tighter. Clung closer. As if she wanted to press him into her own warmth.
Wuyou tilted his head back and drew in a careful breath.
This was bad.
He'd tried to comfort her with words… and ended up becoming the trigger.
Chiemi couldn't hear reason anymore. She was locking him in this gentle, dangerous cage purely by instinct—deeper and deeper.
And even Wuyou, wrapped in that sweetness and tangled closeness, felt his own composure being shaved away, bit by bit.
Just as Wuyou was about to be completely swallowed by Chiemi Representative's embrace…
"Yuyou, what are you two doing?"
A terrifying "hungry beast"—
Oguri Cap—made her grand entrance
....
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