Chapter-3 Black Umbrella

-Keizuke Kizaki-

Morning light filters through the curtains, casting a dull glow across the room. I blink a few times, adjusting to the quiet stillness around me. The sound of waves crashing in the distance reminds me of where I am-far from the city, far from everything I left behind.

I sit up, running a hand through my hair. My body feels rested, but my mind is still trapped in the remnants of a dream. Or maybe it wasn't just a dream.

I can still see her.

The girl in the rain.

Even now, her image lingers. Soaked to the bone, sitting there as if she had lost all reason to move. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself, but it wasn't from the cold-it was something deeper.

And those eyes.

Beautiful, yet filled with something heavy. Something painful.

I don't even know her name, yet she's the first thing that comes to mind the moment I wake up.

With a sigh, I push myself out of bed and head to the bathroom. Cold water splashes against my face, waking me fully, but it does nothing to clear the thoughts swirling in my head.

Why was she out there alone?

Did she have someone waiting for her?

Did she go home safely?

I grip the edge of the sink, staring at my reflection. Why am I even thinking about this?

It was just a passing moment. A stranger I happened to come across. That's all.

And yet...

With another sigh, I step out of the bathroom and head to the kitchen. The familiar routine of making breakfast should help clear my mind. Boiling water, cracking eggs, slicing vegetables-I move through each step with practiced ease.

But as I wait for the pan to heat, my grip tightens around the knife.

I can't shake this feeling.

The way she sat there, unmoving in the rain.

The way she looked up at me when I covered her with my umbrella.

The way she softly thanked me before I walked away.

My chest feels oddly tight.

I scoff at myself. What am I even doing? I barely know this girl, yet she's taken up space in my mind like some kind of mystery waiting to be solved.

I shake my head and focus back on my breakfast.

But even as I take the first bite, I already know.

This curiosity isn't going away anytime soon.

-Miya Suzuki-

A dull ache throbs behind my temples as I force myself to sit up. My body feels heavier than usual, my limbs sluggish and uncooperative. I bring a hand to my forehead-warm. A fever.

I exhale slowly. I should have known. Sitting in the rain like that, lost in my thoughts, was bound to make me sick.

I push off the blanket and rise to my feet, swaying slightly. The room tilts for a moment, but I steady myself, taking slow steps toward the bathroom. A fever won't stop me. It can't. I still have work.

As I pass by the small table near the window, my gaze catches on something.

The umbrella.

My movements still as I stare at it. The black fabric is still damp from the rain, droplets clinging to its edges.

I reach out, running my fingers over the handle. The man had left it with me without hesitation, walking away without expecting anything in return.

He had barely spoken, yet his presence was oddly warm.

That moment plays in my mind again-the way he stood in the rain, shielding me, his voice calm but firm as he told me I'd catch a cold if I stayed there any longer. His expression had been unreadable, but his actions had been gentle, considerate.

And his eyes...

They weren't just kind. They were familiar.

A quiet kind of loneliness, buried beneath a carefully built wall.

I recognize that look because I've seen it in the mirror too many times.

My fingers tighten around the umbrella handle.

Who was he?

I don't even know his name, yet I find myself wanting to.

Not out of gratitude-though I do owe him for his kindness-but because I sensed something beneath that composed exterior. A quiet pain. A distance he keeps from others.

Much like me.

I shake my head. I don't have time for this.

I glance at the clock. 10 AM. I still have time before my shift starts at 1. Enough time to prepare, to shake off this fever, and to push aside unnecessary thoughts.

Still, as I move through my morning routine, my mind drifts back to the man with the quiet gaze and the warmth hidden beneath his nonchalance.

And for the first time in a long while, I feel a spark of curiosity.

A desire to know someone beyond just a passing encounter.

-Miya Suzuki-

The moment I step outside my door, a wave of dizziness washes over me. My vision sways, and I grip the doorframe for support. My body feels unbearably heavy, my fever making every movement sluggish.

I should have taken medicine. I should have rested a little longer. But work is waiting, and I've never been the kind of person to stop just because I don't feel well.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to move forward.

And then-

The door next to mine opens at the exact same time.

For a split second, my fevered mind doesn't register anything except the faint scent of something fresh-clean, like the ocean breeze after the rain.

Then, my vision clears just enough for me to recognize him.

The man from last night.

The one who gave me his umbrella.

My lips part slightly, but before I can say anything, my knees buckle. My body gives up on me entirely, the fever taking control.

The last thing I see is him moving, his arms reaching out to catch me before the darkness swallows my consciousness.

-Keizuke Kizaki-

I hear the door next to mine click open just as I step outside.

A coincidence. That's all it is.

Or at least, that's what I think-until I see her.

The girl from last night.

Her face is even paler than before, her lips colorless. She looks fragile, like a single gust of wind could knock her over.

And then, before I can process anything else, she collapses.

My body reacts before my mind does. I step forward, catching her just before she hits the ground.

She's burning up.

Damn it.

I glance around. No one else is in the hallway. I shift slightly, supporting her weight against me.

I know which room is hers coincidentally she is my neighbor. I could search for her key, but that would mean going through her belongings, and that's not something I'm comfortable with.

That leaves me with only one choice.

I sigh.

"...You're troublesome," I mutter under my breath, though there's no real annoyance in my tone.

With ease, I lift her into my arms and step back into my own room.

As I set her down on the bed, I watch her for a moment-her peaceful yet pained expression, the way her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths.

I don't know anything about her.

And yet, for some reason, I find myself unable to look away.