My stepmother's burden is my ex-girlfriend.

I can make predictions.

You will definitely retract your statement.

Otherwise—my past self would die with regrets.

—Little one. Did you eat the pudding I put in the fridge?

It was an ordinary, everyday scene that made you want to yawn.

We had just started dating, and nothing particularly changed in our lives. He said this to me when I was hanging out at my house after school, just like usual.

She said she put the pudding in the refrigerator.

And in my mind, I still have the memory of eating the pudding that appeared in the refrigerator at some unknown time in a few bites.

At the time, I was still in good health, so I quickly stood up from the sofa.

Sorry! I'll go buy you another one right away...!

--...No need, I already have mine.

As he spoke, the guy took out an unopened pudding from the refrigerator.

Oh yeah, I also remember there was one in the refrigerator back then.

--What? There's a portion for two people anyway.

---That's right.

The guy sat down at the table, roughly tore open the lid of the pudding, and started stuffing it into his mouth.

And she absolutely refused to look at me no matter what I said. Her cheeks looked puffy, probably not because she was eating pudding.

---Then why are you so angry?

--I'm not angry.

Her tone of voice was noticeably stiff, but even after all that, I still didn't know why she was angry.

Later that evening, at the dinner table.

-- Got it!

That guy snatched the karaage chicken from my plate with lightning speed.

—Hey! What are you doing?!

—What are you angry about? You're so greedy, are you really that reluctant to eat it?

The woman gently waved the karaage chicken she was holding with her chopsticks and smiled mischievously.

Could this be revenge for Pudding?

I immediately realized what was happening and became a little unhappy, turning my sour face away.

Who would be happy if someone took their things?

—Then I'll return it to you.

The karaage chicken, held between my chopsticks, was quickly moved to my mouth.

Come on, ah~♥

──……………………

Seeing this action, I realized the truth of that matter in disbelief.

--...pudding during the day.

--Hmm~?

—You wouldn't have bought it because you wanted to do this, would you?

That's why you're upset that I ate it all first?

That woman—Xiaoyue, she…

He grinned, a wicked smile like a cat, and said this sarcastically:

—Well, what do you think?

Ah... every time I think about it, it sends chills down my spine.

It was terrifying, and my skin was covered in goosebumps.

This matter must be the very beginning.

At this point, it was just amusing, playful banter between lovers.

But at some point, it became the norm for that guy to feed me with chopsticks.

My use of chopsticks became an exception.

In the end—she stopped preparing chopsticks for me altogether.

Kawanami Kogure has already died once.

But why do these memories still linger in my mind, impossible to shake off?

◆

"──……………………Waaaaah…………………………!"

I started the day covered in an uncomfortable amount of sweat.

Why am I having that dream again?

I raised my hand to block out the light streaming in through the gap in the curtains. I had hoped that the clear morning sunlight would help wash away the memories of the nightmare, but the nature of nightmares is always exceptionally bad, as stubborn as the stains left by curry.

I rolled up the sleeve of my sweatshirt to examine my arm and frowned. My entire skin was covered in hives, like barnacles clinging to a rock.

This way of getting up is absolutely terrible.

I walked out of my room, feeling down, and saw a poached egg wrapped in plastic wrap on the dining table. There was also a note attached: "I'll be home late, so please eat whatever you like for dinner. Mom." It was a recurring note.

It was just like any other morning scene.

Thanks to that nightmare, my mind was unusually clear. I put the toast in the toaster, then quickly went back to my room to change into my uniform.

I stuffed the freshly toasted bread and the completely cooled fried egg into my mouth, swallowed them with milk, and went to the restroom to tidy myself up.

By the time I picked up my schoolbag and left home, it was already 8:40 in the morning.

As I walked into the apartment hallway, my neighbor's door opened.

A girl wearing the same high school uniform as me walked out.

This short guy, who's not even 150 centimeters tall, gave me a glaring look as soon as he noticed me.

I responded with a glare.

"........."

"........."

I greeted him with only this gaze, seasoned with a hint of hostility.

Her ponytail swayed and swung to the side.

At the same time, I looked away.

We walked one after the other down the monotonous apartment corridor. Upon reaching the elevator lobby, one of the two elevators opened its doors as if to welcome us.

I went inside.

The petite woman didn't come in.

She stepped into another elevator, which opened a few seconds later, and disappeared from sight.

Only after the elevator doors closed and the room became completely enclosed was I finally able to relax.

I looked up at the low ceiling illuminated by the blinding white electric lights and sighed heavily with a sense of melancholy.

—To the ten million boys across the country who yearn for romantic comedies. If you can hear my voice, please remember this one sentence.

Take my advice: never date your childhood sweetheart who lives next door.

Nan Xiaoyue, who lives next door to me, is like a sister to me.

Our parents are often away from home because of work, just like most Japanese people these days, leaving early and returning late. After I started elementary school and developed a certain degree of independence, I began to look after the house by myself.

In this situation, there was a child of the same age next door—

It's hard not to be friends.

When our parents weren't home, we would spend time at each other's houses, playing games, chatting, doing chores like cooking or laundry, or doing nothing at all—this went on for several years.

Then, I went on to junior high school.

The so-called puberty has arrived.

It's probably just as difficult not to fall in love with someone.

In the third year of junior high school, our relationship changed from childhood sweethearts to boyfriend and girlfriend.

At first, of course, I was very happy. She was my first girlfriend in my life, and we had been together since childhood. Actually, I had always had a little crush on this childhood sweetheart.

Because we live so close, we're inseparable, spending every single moment of our time together. At home, we're inseparable, not wanting to be apart for even a second. If I say, "I need to go to the bathroom, can I leave you for a bit?" she'll even say, "No, I'll go with you." We've become this kind of nauseatingly stupid couple.

But how can such a relationship last?

Being clingy and inseparable like that can only bring happiness for the first month at most, right? Even going to the bathroom can lead to tantrums; thinking about it calmly, it's incredibly annoying, isn't it? After a while, once you calm down, you should adjust to a more appropriate distance, establish personal space, and learn to enjoy the relationship in moderation, right?

However, the word "moderation" does not exist in Nan Xiaoyue's dictionary.

Even after a month, two months, or even half a year, that woman still clung to me 24/7. When we were out, she would hold my arm, and when we got home, she would sit on my lap.

Not only that, but she also started doing all the housework that used to be shared.

She prepares all three of my meals.

That woman had complete control over my diet, down to the last 0.1 calories.

She picks out the clothes I wear every day.

She even adjusted the length of her hair to be perfect.

She didn't just wash her back; she washed her entire body.

I was woken up by that guy saying "Good morning" in the morning, and I went to sleep after hearing him say "Good night" at night.

A life of meticulous care and sweet displays of affection? Stop talking nonsense.

This is practically keeping a pet.

To that guy, I'm his boyfriend, but not a human being.

In the end, I got sick.

He was hospitalized with a perforated stomach due to excessive stress.

When that woman came to visit me in the ward, I yelled at her until she broke down and cried.

And just like that, we were no longer boyfriend and girlfriend.

They are no longer childhood sweethearts.

All that's left is the geographical advantage of living next door.

Did you know? There's a Japanese word that can accurately describe this state.

Yes—it's hell on earth.

"Ah!...Kawabata, good morning!"

As soon as I entered the classroom, Nishimura, who was in the same class, struck up a conversation with me.

I consider myself to be the type who's good at socializing, and I've made many acquaintances at this private Rakuro High School. Among them are a large number of girls, and Nishimura is one of the group that gets the most opportunities to talk.

"Oh, Nishimura, good morning... Hmm? You changed your shampoo today."

"Huh! Can you...can you tell?"

"Because I smell it every day."

"Haha! That's awful!"

Nishimura laughed heartily and patted my shoulder several times. I laughed along with him.