Chapter 6: 5

Confinement - Day 5

Translated by TheLemon
Edited by TheLemon

 

Today, too, I’m drawing that girl.

Drawing her has become somewhat of a routine.

All I have in this room is an LCD tablet, and it’s the only way I can keep the girl pleased.

 I know that.

But…

(Is this the right thing to do?)

There was a vague sense of frustration.

My editor assured me that I could submit my story at any moment, but I felt like I wanted to do something different…

New furnishings——now’s good?

I can’t help but think now about things like taking out the trash or greeting neighbors.

Ah, I need to change my license address, and did I remember to debit the water and power bills?

After that——

“Ah! Right! Today’s the day to transfer the rent!”

I slapped my knee.

“It’s fine. I’ve transferred the money from our account.”

For a moment, the girl’s eyes widened in shock, but she said nothing.

“Our account?”

“This.”

The girl flips up the hem of her shirt.

A black waist pouch was wrapped around her navel.

It’s the sort of thing you keep valuables in while traveling abroad.

In a single motion, she pulled out three bank passbooks from there.

All of them look familiar.

Now I know where the money for the washing machine came from.

“T-that’s right. Good. Well, ours, or rather, mine…”

“No, it’s not. ‘Ours.’ I make sure I pay for mine. Rent and living expenses are split fifty-fifty.”

The girl corrects me in a strong tone and turns over the passbook to show it to me.

Sure enough, there was a deposit in the passbook that I didn’t remember.

If it was a royalty transfer from the publishing company, the company name should be printed, but it is not in the record of the payment.

In other words, she must have used my passbook to deposit the money herself.

That’s quite a lot of money.

At the very least, it is not an amount that can be paid out of a high school girl’s allowance.

Who in the world is she?

Just when I thought one mystery was solved, another deepened.

“That’s right… … … Eh, I mean, even if you did, how did you transfer the rent? You need a PIN to transfer rent, let alone deposit money!?”

I almost let it go for a second, but then I thought of the obvious question.

“Haa. I can’t believe that people exist today who use their birthday as their PIN.”

The girl sighs in exasperation as she flips through the passbook idly.

“Ulp.”

I patted my chest.

“And I hear that you proudly publish your date of birth on social networking sites…”

She stared at me like an animal trying to flee.

“Ah! So that’s what you mean!”

I fell on the floor.

My own carelessness disgusts me.

With such governor security, it’s no wonder she’s been getting the rent transferred.

But now I have no way to reset my PIN.

If this happens, I’ll reopen it.

(I was a little uncomfortable about her feeding me, but if she’s going to take money out of my bank book, there’s no reason for me to refuse her. She said she’d divide it 50/50, but the money isn’t colored, so I’ll just refund her deposit later.)

“Um, I need something.”

I opened my mouth with my will.

“What?”

“Um, like cigarettes.”

“No.”

She denied the request without hesitation.

“Then, alcohol?”

“No.”

She denies again.

“Then, at least, gum, gummies, chocolates. Whatever, I’m the type of guy who can’t concentrate on my work if there’s nothing in my mouth.”

“… I understand.”

She nodded reluctantly.

She then placed her finger on the phone, which she had taken from her pocket.

I wonder if they’re on an online shopping site.

“Ah, of course, since it’s a personal item, I’ll pay for everything.”

“No.”

She said without looking away from her phone.

She again denies. 

(Well, but it definitely pays off to know that she’s not holding me captive for money.)

If it’s for money, then there’s no need to keep me locked up as long as she has my passbook PIN number.

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I’ve heard a case in the news of a criminal who mind-controls others and exploits them by forcing them to engage in slave-like labor, but seeing how she wants to break even so much, it seems unlikely that this is the case.

But that does deepen the question of “Why are you locking me up?” though.

“Ordered.”

The girl muttered and looked up from her phone.

“I see. I’m looking forward to it.”

I nod and smile.

“… I did what you asked.”

The girl put her phone aside and sternly cut to the chase.

“Yes.”

“So you owe it to yourself to do me a favor.”

“Favor?”

I gulp and swallow my spit.

What in the world does she want from me?

“…”

The girl remained silent, and then she took off her high socks.

The exposed bare feet made me nervous for a moment.

It’s nothing obscene or anything like that.

“N-no way, you’re not going to tell me to lick your fingers.”

I jokingly said.

It’s a common development in M-rated manga, but I’m not in the mood for it.

“… Are you an idiot?”

The girl pulls back her body a bit.

“No. But, it was a joke. So?”

“Foot nails.”

The girl points to her own nails.

“Wait, you want me to draw nail art? Me?”

“Yes. Your character.”

She nodded.

“Is nail art a price of candy?”

“It is the same in the sense that it raises the tension.”

“I see… But I’ve never painted nail art before.”

“…”

She reaches for the knife.

“Wait a minute! It’s not that I don’t like it or anything, it’s just that I’ve never painted nail art before, so I was just a little hesitant. I can try, but don’t get mad if I fail, okay?”

I’ll nail you on that.

I don’t want to make a mistake on my first try at a new technique and get pissed off.

“No problem. It’s a nail tip.”

“Nail tip?”

“Fake fingernail.”

The girl said this, walked out of the room once, and returned with a translucent acrylic box. It looks like the boxes I used to put mini 4×4 parts and stuff in.

After a quick lecture from her, I sat on my haunches, bent over, and stared at her legs.

The well-groomed nails shone like crystals.

Then, a fake nail was attached on top of it.

I picked up a paintbrush like the ones used for watercolors and started coloring with polish.

The girl raises her knife above my head and watches me closely.

It’s as restless as an Argentinosaurus stepping on thin ice.

(I guess it would be easier to draw a deformed, low head than an elaborate one.)

Although humiliating, the process itself was surprisingly enjoyable.

I think I understand a little bit why so many girls want to open nail salons.

“…”

“…”

Without uttering a single word, I concentrated my nerves on my fingertips. Not even a scratch on her beautiful feet.

Her ankles and fingers are so thin that they look as if they might break.

(Come to think of it, bare feet of a high school girl are pretty rare, aren’t they?)

It is normal to see a transparent bra in the summer, and with the stream of high school girls wearing short skirts on the streets, it is not uncommon to glimpse their thighs.

But you can’t see bare feet unless you go to the ocean.

When I think about it, it makes me feel a little strange.

……

……

“It smells.”

I couldn’t stand the agony of being silent, so I muttered a few words.

“…”

She pulls her leg.

“No, I mean, about not smelling like nail polish.”

Isn’t it bad for the body to do nail art in a closed space?

“… !”

The girl suddenly kicked forward.

The fake fingernail sticks into my forehead.

“Ow!  I told you earlier that I can make mistakes.”

“Another matter.”

The girl turned her head away in a huff and muttered.

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