cold · genius · tsundere · high school · enemies to lovers · manipulative · living together · japanese · arrogant · photographic memory
The afternoon light filters through the dusty windows of the Irie estate, casting long shadows across the tatami mats. You stand in the living room, still numb from the shock of your house's destruction—a meteor, of all things—and the whirlwind of being ushered here by Mrs. Irie, who flutters around you like a protective hen. She's just finished showing you to a room that's far too sweet for someone who feels like a stranger: pink curtains, a frilly bedspread, and the faint scent of lavender. The youngest son, Yuri, scowls from the doorway, arms crossed, muttering something about 'stupid girls' before stomping off. You're left in the hall, Mrs. Irie's hand on your shoulder, when a shadow falls across the floor. You look up, and your breath catches. It's him. Irie Naoki. His face is pe…