It Seems Like a Girl I Don’t Know Is Doing Housework at My Place. But She’s Cute, So I’m Watching Her.

Chapter 8



“Hmm-hmm-hmm♪”

 

Once again, the stalker is unlawfully entering my home today. At this point, legally calling it “unlawful entry” is dubious, but emotionally, I still want to think of it as trespassing, so I’ll continue to regard it that way.

 

Anyway, it’s been almost two weeks since our first encounter at my house. Hearing another person’s voice and footsteps around here is becoming quite normal.

 

“……”

 

What I can’t help but think about is how she manages to keep her spirits up.

 

It’s been about two weeks since the stalker started brazenly breaking in, and during that time, I’ve continued to ignore her. I haven’t responded to her attempts at conversation.

 

Normally, anyone would develop at least a negative impression after being ignored for this long. Even if she’s smitten, there has to be a limit.

 

How can someone hold onto such affection for someone who won’t even acknowledge their existence? Her mental structure is so baffling it’s almost fascinating.

 

Honestly, I thought she’d break down soon enough. I figured someone with such obsessive tendencies would crumble quickly if they were completely ignored.

 

It’s not a bad thing, of course. In fact, it’s a stroke of luck. If she had broken down, I would have had to change my approach.

 

In the worst-case scenario, I would have had to escalate things, and all my efforts so far would have gone to waste. So, this current situation is unexpectedly fortunate.

 

 

“Alright, all done with the washing! That’s the end of today’s chores!”

 

Her voice echoed through the room, overflowing with goodwill. I can easily imagine her usual carefree smile, even though I’ve never looked directly at her.

 

Despite never having looked at her face, her presence has become such a regular part of my life that I can easily picture it.

 

Her ability to constantly shower me with unclouded affection, no matter how poorly she’s treated, is admirable even considering she’s a criminal.

 

But it’s also terrifying. Her mindset seems rooted in a cult-like faith.

 

My feelings are split fifty-fifty between respect and unease. Still, the fact that I harbor any positive feelings at all suggests I’ve been somewhat swayed by her.

 

But, well, there’s not much I can do about that. Despite my poor social skills, I am still a man. Having a beautiful woman dedicatedly taking care of me will shake me, at least a little.

 

Even so, my rational mind steps in, reminding me she’s a criminal, which keeps my feelings in check for now.

 

 

“And guess what! I made sure to clear my schedule today! I have no plans for the rest of the day, and you don’t have work, right? So, we can be together until tonight! I have plans tomorrow, so I’ll leave by eight. I’m still too shy to stay over, so, um, sorry.”

 

“……”

 

I may never have cursed my schedule as much as I do today. I’ve always found my part-time job tedious, but today I wish I’d get an urgent call to come in.

 

It’s just past 3 PM. My classes ended after the third period, and I have no work today, so I have no plans for the rest of the day.

 

In other words, we’ll be alone together for about five hours. What has worked so far was the short duration of her visits, mostly spent on chores and a bit of one-sided chatter.

 

With that fragile balance now disrupted, I can’t predict what will happen next.

 

 

“Okay, excuse me while I sit next to you.”

 

Ignoring my inner turmoil, the stalker plopped down beside me.

 

“……”

 

Pretending to focus on my mobile game, I silently vented my frustrations. My lifestyle in this one-room apartment had backfired.

 

I don’t have chairs because I find them inconvenient and they take up space. I mostly sit on the floor.

 

So, in my apartment, there’s just a computer chair and a beanbag. Right now, I’m using the beanbag.

 

The beanbag is big enough for two people. I splurged on it because it’s extremely comfortable.

 

Sitting alone in it is a luxurious comfort. But what happens when two people use it?

 

“…… Now that I think about it, this is the first time we’ve been this close, huh?”

 

The result is this: closeness. Not just figurative but literal closeness. We’re practically leaning on each other.

 

Even the stalker, who usually acts as if she owns the place, stammered slightly. I can’t see her face, but I can imagine her blushing.

 

“…… Ehehe.”

 

Yet she doesn’t stop. I feel her weight on my shoulder, something soft brushing my cheek, and a sweet scent tickling my nose.

 

I don’t need to check to know she’s resting her head on my shoulder, rubbing it against me.

 

It’s both ticklish and annoying. The sudden, intense closeness fills me with mixed emotions.

 

This stalker is a criminal. But she’s also beautiful. The unease from her criminal behavior and the mystery surrounding her are overshadowed by embarrassment and sexual tension.

 

I might as well admit it. Part of me finds her actions cute and endearing.

 

I am, after all, a man. I have normal sexual desires and no experience with women. This isn’t something to brag about, of course.

 

A guy with no romantic experience, having a beautiful woman pursue him, would naturally be flustered. Thrown into this ridiculous situation, it’s no wonder I’m panicking internally.

 

It’s a near miracle that I’m not visibly showing my agitation. My mental control and normally inexpressive face deserve applause. Still, my hands are trembling slightly, which should indicate how shaken I am.

 

If I held a teacup right now, I’d probably be a comically trembling mess, like in a manga.

 

 

“You smell good. Did you know? If you find someone’s scent pleasant, it means you’re genetically compatible with them.”

 

“……”

 

I really wish she’d stop. Sniffing my scent so directly is creepy, regardless of how attractive she is.

 

I guess a stalker is still a stalker. Her bizarre actions keep me from crossing that final line.

 

Even though I’m on the verge of giving in to my sexual desires, my rational mind still holds strong. No matter how flustered I get, I can always remind myself, “She’s a dangerous criminal.”

 

So, for now, I’m safe.

 

 

“──It’s frustrating.”

 

“Huh? What is?”

 

“……”

 

“Oh, the game.”

 

I was talking about the game. My accidental slip was covered up by pretending to focus on it. Close call.

 

But my frustration is real. If I’d met this attractive stalker under normal circumstances…

 

If that were the case, I could have easily fallen for her. But instead, I met her in a way that keeps my rational mind alert, and I can’t help but lament that fact.


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