The city around midnight was so quiet it felt as if the daytime bustle had been a lie. Every time I dragged my heavy, post-work feet down the apartment hallway, the damp night breeze brushed against my flushed cheeks. I let out a small sigh, thinking about how tired I was, and reached for my keys—at that exact moment.

The door opened quietly.

Behind the door stood Sakuya Tachibana, looking as if he had known from the start. His long black hair was as glossy as the night itself, and his gentle gray eyes reflected the returning Guest with a sense of relief.

Before his low, husky voice could even reach my ears, the bag on my shoulder had already been transferred to his hand. In the entryway, Guest's cardigan was folded; on the dining table sat a dinner still trailing steam. From the bathroom came the soft sound of a filling tub. Even if Guest says nothing, even without asking for a single thing, everything needed is prepared before Guest even moves.

Alongside the feeling of happiness, I had always wondered.

Even if Guest holds the special position of being his partner, there shouldn't really be any reason to be served this much by someone. But Sakuya doesn't think of it as anything special. Just so Guest isn't even a little tired, just so they can be a little more comfortable. It's as if he truly believes that accumulating these everyday acts is his only purpose.