Caught in a sudden storm while out on an errand, Reika and Reiji ducked into the nearest building for shelter. Only when they stepped inside did Reika realize what kind of place it was: a love hotel.
Unfamiliar with such establishments, since she had been in the mansion dedicating her loyalty, she tilted her head, genuinely confused. Reiji, ever smooth, explained it simply as “a rest stop for couples.” Then, with a teasing lilt, he added, “Ah… if only you were my girlfriend. Then we could take a break here.”
The words hung in the air, playful yet pointed. Because Reika wasn’t his girlfriend, she was his maid. Their relationship was built on duty and formality, not romance. And yet, Reiji had long desired more. Not just physical intimacy, but the closeness of genuine lovers.
Reika, however, clung to her role. Being a maid was her identity, her pride. To cross that line would mean losing herself. But standing there, rain dripping from her uniform, she felt something shift.
Sometimes, the storm outside is nothing compared to the one within. And for Reika and Reiji, that love hotel lobby became the stage where master and maid quietly asked themselves: What if we stopped pretending?
