Chapter 124: “Well I Called But No Answer”

The door to Satoru’s apartment clicked shut behind Hinata with a soft, final sound that seemed to echo longer than it should in the narrow entrance corridor.

A short hallway stretched forward, leading directly into the living room where afternoon sunlight filtered through half-drawn curtains, casting familiar rectangular patches of warm gold across the wooden floor.

Dust motes danced lazily in those beams, just as they did in Rin’s place.

The living room itself felt like a near-identical twin: a worn but comfortable sofa against one wall, facing a modest TV stand with a mid-sized screen and a few scattered game cases.

A low wooden coffee table sat in the center, holding a couple of remote controls, an empty mug, and a folded newspaper from that morning.

No lavish decorations adorned the walls—just a simple calendar pinned near the kitchen entrance and a small potted plant on the windowsill that looked slightly neglected.

The kitchen visible at the back mirrored the compact, open-plan design next door...

basic counters with a white rice cooker humming quietly on the side, simple cabinets, a small sink with a few dishes drying on the rack, and the faint aroma of instant coffee lingering from earlier.

From the living room, a short hallway branched off, leading to two bedrooms positioned much like Rin’s apartment—

one on the left for Satoru, simple and functional with a single bed and a desk cluttered with notebooks, and another slightly further down on the right that served as a spare or storage space. A few extra steps past the bedrooms reached the plain door to the shared toilet and restroom, compact and clean with basic fixtures.

The entire apartment carried that same middle-class practicality—second-hand furnishings in places, nothing extravagant, funded quietly through Satoru’s demanding work with the Supernatural Control Organization.

It was as if the two neighboring units had been built from the same blueprint, separated only by a thin wall that allowed faint sounds to occasionally bleed through.

Inside the living room, Hinata sat on the sofa, her light-blue blouse tucked neatly into her beige pants, white sneakers resting quietly on the floor.

She kept her hands folded in her lap, fingers twisting the hem of her blouse absentmindedly.

Her neat ponytail hung over one shoulder, but her usual calm expression had softened into something heavier.

Her gaze drifted toward the wall shared with Rin’s apartment, where she could faintly hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation drifting through—

the bright lilt of Akane’s voice, Hanako’s softer replies, and even Chiyo’s excited giggles.

Her friends were over there, filling the space with warmth and energy.

And Chris... his elegant presence next door made her chest tighten with a quiet ache.

She pictured his golden hair catching the light, that charming smile he had given her in the hallway earlier.

The memory of their heated encounter in the occult club room still lingered in her body, a flush of heat she tried to push down. Here she sat, isolated in this near-identical but quieter mirror of the apartment next door, while everyone else enjoyed each other’s company.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, a small sigh escaping her lips as she stared at the low coffee table.

Satoru sat on the other end of the same sofa, his simple black shirt and pants blending into the modest surroundings.

His sharp observant eyes, usually so alert from years of surveillance work, now carried a subtle shadow.

He leaned back against the cushions, one arm draped along the backrest, but his posture lacked its usual professional ease.

The two beautiful girls who had arrived with Hinata—Akane in her clinging red sweater and Hanako with her graceful cardigan and flowing skirt—had slipped away so quickly to the neighboring door.

He had barely exchanged more than a few words with them. Their attractive figures and the brief spark of interest they had stirred in him now felt like a missed opportunity, leaving a quiet disappointment settled in his chest.

As an SCO agent accustomed to long, lonely shifts watching through walls, he rarely had unexpected visitors like this.

The faint sounds of movement and voices next door only deepened the contrast, reminding him of the lively gathering happening just meters away.

His jaw tightened faintly, fingers tapping once against the sofa arm before stilling.

Silence stretched between the siblings, growing thicker and more awkward with every passing second.

The hum of the rice cooker in the kitchen seemed louder than usual.

A distant car horn from the street outside barely penetrated the quiet.

Hinata shifted her weight, her beige pants whispering against the sofa fabric, while Satoru stared at a spot on the wooden floor where sunlight pooled warmly.

The air felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and the weight of their respective longings.

Finally, Satoru cleared his throat, the sound deliberate and a little rough in the quiet room.

He turned his head toward her, his short dark hair catching a sliver of light as he offered a small, polite smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes.

"Well... how have you been, Hinata?"

His voice came out steady but gentle, carrying the careful tone of someone trying to bridge a gap that had widened over months of demanding work.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his black sleeves shifting with the movement as he studied her face.

Hinata blinked, pulling her gaze away from the shared wall.

She offered a small, slightly wistful smile in return, her ponytail swaying as she tilted her head.

"I’ve been good,"

she replied softly, her voice carrying a quiet acceptance.

She adjusted her posture on the couch, crossing one leg over the other, her white sneakers brushing together lightly.

The words felt true enough on the surface—school, club activities, friends—but they glossed over the deeper ache of missing family connections.

Satoru nodded slowly, his sharp eyes softening just a fraction.

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, the motion casual but revealing a hint of his own fatigue from endless surveillance shifts.

"And school? How’s that going?"

His question hung in the air, genuine but tinged with the awareness that he had missed so many details of her life lately. The organization’s demands—long hours monitoring threats like Chris next door—had swallowed his time whole.

Hinata’s smile remained small and steady, though her fingers continued their subtle twisting of her blouse hem.

"It’s going well so far," she said, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of routine.

She glanced briefly at the kitchen area, where the faint aroma of coffee still lingered, then back to him.

"Classes are steady, club activities keep me busy. Nothing too out of the ordinary."

The conversation paused again, the awkward silence threatening to return like a tide.

Satoru shifted on the sofa, the cushions creaking faintly under his weight.

He glanced toward the shared wall himself, hearing another burst of muffled laughter from next door—perhaps Akane or Hanako reacting to something Rin said.

His expression flickered with that same quiet disappointment before he masked it.

"I’m surprised by the sudden visit," he continued, his voice measured and careful, like an agent filing a report.

"You could have called ahead to check if I was around before coming all this way."

He gestured lightly with one hand toward the entrance corridor, his black shirt sleeve pulling taut over his forearm.

The words carried no accusation, only the practical tone shaped by years of unpredictable fieldwork.

Hinata turned her head to look directly at him, her expression settling into a straight, even face—eyebrows relaxed, mouth in a neutral line, eyes steady without warmth or coldness.

Her ponytail rested still against her shoulder as she held his gaze without blinking for a long moment. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

"Funny enough, I called multiple times,"

she said, her voice calm and matter-of-fact, each word precise. "But you didn’t answer. Just like always."

The statement landed quietly but carried the weight of accumulated absences—missed dinners, unanswered messages, birthdays where work had pulled him away.

She didn’t raise her voice or look away, simply stating the truth with that composed, straight-faced demeanor that hid the sting beneath.