I'm Being Threatened by My Sister's Ex-girlfriend. (GL) - Chapter 5

The predictive text on my smartphone reflects your daily behavior, or so they say. In my case, the first suggested word when I type “a” is “love.” How wonderful. I might just be a modern-day saint.

Of course, it was just a coincidence. I had been researching an author with that name for a report. That’s it. So, by tomorrow, I might be completely corrupted.

There are also some unchanging words. “Ne” is one of them. The first letter of “Next@.”

“Alright, then, goodnight…”

After I ended the livestream, I immediately typed my name into Twitter.

Searching for myself after a stream had become a habit. It almost never yields any success, but every now and then I find a tweet mentioning “Next@,” and it feels like finding treasure on the side of the road.

While scrolling through the timeline, I lay down on the cool IKEA rug that one of my fans (I guess I can call them that) gave me. It’s one of my treasures. This 1,499 yen rug also came with the added value of self-esteem.

While cooling my right side, I got creative with my search word combinations. That’s when my phone suddenly vibrated.

I checked the notification, and I couldn’t help but let out a small “grr” sound in my throat.

The message was from Hakobe.

“Good job. Well, I think your singing has improved a bit, don’t you think?”

What’s with that boyfriend-like tone?

Today’s stream lasted about an hour and a half. Between the casual chatting, I sang one song. The comments in the chat seemed to be mostly positive, though I think it might have been the song choice.

I’ve continued doing the lip rolls since then. I’ve decided to believe that they’re working. I just want to be rewarded for it.

“Have you been eating properly lately?”

“Why the sudden question? Are you my mom?”

“No, not at all. I was just thinking, but you seem a bit thinner than Ichika-senpai. Shouldn’t you put on a little more weight?”

I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes. This part of Hakobe just creeped me out.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, arms stretched out to the sides, striking a pose.

Am I thinner than Ichika? Even when I tried to picture her silhouette in my mind, it didn’t work.

Since entering university, Ichika and I have become distant. She started living with roommates, while I moved into my own place. We only meet occasionally when we visit our parents’ house. That kind of distance helps me avoid feeling any weird sense of inferiority.

I thought about asking Ichika about Hakobe, but I had already been warned in advance. “If you tell her about me, I won’t forgive you.” Scary.

I have no idea how much communication has continued between them. The relationship labeled “ex-girlfriend” can take on endless forms. I didn’t feel like risking anything by asking.

Besides, if Hakobe is looking for me as a “substitute,” then it’s likely that she and Ichika are done with each other.

There’s not much communication between Ichika and me, but since we’re sisters, there’s still some. If the opportunity arises, I might subtly probe her about it.

With these thoughts in mind, I replied to Hakobe’s message.

“I hate the hassle of eating.”

“What do you usually eat?”

“For breakfast, stick bread.”

“Okay.”

“For lunch, the cafeteria.”

“Got it.”

“For dinner, throat lozenges or something.”

A cat stamp appeared, silently displaying an angry face.

Because it’s such a hassle. I can’t even be bothered to go to the convenience store, let alone heat something up in the microwave. The dish soap I bought for when I moved in is still nearly full, untouched.

“But when I drink, I do prepare snacks. Like chips.”

“Wow, so responsible!”

At that moment, I suddenly came back to my senses.

What am I even doing? Sending messages back and forth like this as if I’m having fun. This is nothing more than playing at being in a relationship, and the truth is that my connection with Hakobe is that of a perpetrator and a victim. Even if I agree to it, nothing will change the fact that that’s the nature of our relationship.

I threw a stamp with a Sengoku-era warrior sleeping soundly on a pillow, then switched to a group chat with my university friends who I’ve known for first year.

“Anyone want to join a drinking session at my place tomorrow?”

One person responded. Success.
I have three friends. One has long black hair and wears glasses, another is a former athlete with a mysterious aura, and the last one is an angel.

The girl with long black hair and glasses is named Hayasegawa Aya. She’s a heavy drinker with a generously endowed chest and a strong liver.

I ran into Hayasegawa in our second period Sociology class. When she saw me approaching, she lazily raised one hand. She looked like she was exhausted, her tiredness practically radiating from her.

“Hungover again?”

“No, just sleep-deprived. I put too much effort into my report.”

Hayasegawa is a brilliant student.

She’s the type to drink from morning until night, not really what you’d call “Serious,” but she’s dedicated to her studies and very smart. Despite that, she chose to go to Kaiba University instead of Mihama University because, as she put it, “A professor I respect works there.” When I first heard that, I was shocked. I never thought anyone would pick their school based on something like that, not when the university’s reputation or employment rate would be more practical reasons.

“What about tonight? Should we skip it?”

“No problem. I have a free third period, so I’ll just sleep somewhere before then.”

“You don’t have to push yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

Through her red Wellington glasses, I could see her perfectly curled lashes. There was something sensual about the way they looked, which made my spine tingle. No, no… don’t think like that.

“I want to drink with you. So, it’s fine.”

“Oh, um… okay…”

No, no.

I know the reason I almost saw something other than friendship in her casual remarks. Half of it is because of my meeting with Hakobe. Seeing a girl who likes other girls up close has made me self-conscious in a weird way. The other half is because…

“What’s wrong?”

This Hayasegawa is incredibly sexy.

It’s not her personality or her behavior. It’s her appearance. She exudes a certain aura. The curves of her well-toned waist and her soft-looking arms extending from her sleeveless summer knit are all strangely alluring. Her sharp features contrast with the slight droop of her eyes, which only adds to her s3x appeal. She even has a mole by her mouth. It’s almost too perfect.
Yet, despite looking like she would have no trouble attracting attention, there’s never been any gossip about her love life. Since starting university, she’s been hanging out with me most of the time.

Maybe that’s just how things are when you’re perfect like her.

“Thanks… oh, by the way, I need your opinion on something.”

“Sure.”

“Do you think I’m too skinny?”

“No? You’re slender, but it doesn’t seem off.”

“Right!”

“Although, I do prefer a little more meat on the bones.”

“Eh, heh.”

“What was that reaction?”

“Sorry, never mind.”

I have to be careful not to let my words get interpreted the wrong way.

The professor, who was in his late years, walked into the classroom. A curious look came from next to me. I opened my loose-leaf binder and tried to focus on the lecture as much as I could.

It’s not uncommon for us to drink at home. My apartment, which is just three train stops away from the university, is cheap, after all.

I picked up some chu-hi and snacks from the supermarket near the station. The cans were for me, while Hayasegawa’s sake was stored in the bottom shelf of my kitchen cabinet.

“In a way, this is my own little girls’ bar.”

She said that while happily crawling around, putting a bottle of sake away. Looking at her backside, I couldn’t help but think she was a hopeless girl. Maybe we’re alike in that sense.

We passed through the station with its dolphin tile art and walked slowly through the indigo-colored city.

My small corner apartment, just a little over seven tatami mats, was cramped but had decent soundproofing. Plus, the neighboring room is apparently a “haunted” property, so no one ever rents it. Not having to worry about noise is nice, both for streaming and drinking at home.

We made a small toast and gradually started taking in the alcohol.

When I finished a can, Hayasegawa, nibbling on some smoked squid, spoke up.

“You sang on your stream yesterday, didn’t you?”

“Y-You were watching…?”

“I was just listening while doing my report. You were pretty good.”

“Y-Yeah, heh…”

I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

Hayasegawa knew about my streaming activities. Sometimes, she even tuned in to listen.

I had been planning to talk to her about Hakobe, but I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

While I was pondering, I reached for the bag of corn snacks.

Ding dong.

The doorbell rang, signaling a visitor. We exchanged glances.

“I wonder who it is. A sales pitch, maybe?”

“Should I answer?”

“No, it’s fine.”

The intercom in this room didn’t have a monitor, so I cautiously pressed my eye against the peephole.

There, in the hallway lit by the fluorescent light, stood Hakobe, wearing casual clothes.

“…Huh?”

A bunch of green onions were sticking out of the eco bag she was holding. The smell of everyday life clashed strangely with her blouse, which had ribbons on the collar, giving off a “landmine” vibe.

Why? My mind was spinning with questions. Why was Hakobe here? What was in that bulky eco bag?

As I stood there, stunned, she pulled out her smartphone, looking like she had given up waiting.

My iPhone vibrated in my pants pocket.

“If you’re there, open the door quickly.”

I hesitantly turned the doorknob.

“What the heck are you doing here…?”

“No, it’s just that you were—well…”

Her gaze dropped. There, on the floor, were sneakers.

Hayasegawa was taller than most women, and her sneakers were clearly larger than mine.

“…Ah, is he your boyfriend?”

Hakobe’s voice was emotionless when she asked.

“Sorry for the interruption, I’ll leave now.”

“No, no, no! You misunderstood!”

I grabbed her shoulder as she turned to leave. I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea.

Once I had a hold of her, I was surprised by how delicate her bones felt. I wasn’t muscular; I was just skinny, but Hakobe’s build seemed naturally thin—she had a finely sculpted, beautiful frame.

“No, no, I’m definitely not leaving yet.”

“I told you, that’s not it!”

“Hayasegawa, come here! Please!”

“What’s up?”

Hayasegawa, holding a glass in one hand, peeked out into the hallway.

Hakobe stared at her face for a moment, then glanced at mine before speaking.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, she’s not!”