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Who Am I Here____________________

I'll be damned, he really does have a femdom collection under his bed. I stretch out my arm and pull out the magazines and CDs, one by one. The first thing I see is a shiny pair of heels and a woman with a smug grin. The tagline reads, Crushing You with Your Boss's Foot. And that's just Volume 3. As I slowly add each item to the 'checked pile,' a thought crosses my mind: how old-school is this kind of thing? Who even buys porn magazines and CDs anymore when the entire universe of depravity is a click away?

I flip open one of the cases, the golden disc catching the light, almost mocking me with its glimmer. My eyes drift to the disc player, momentarily tempted. But with a sigh, I snap it shut. Lilly said she'd be back soon, so I might just study this later—plenty of time for that.

I step out of my room and take in the sterile living room once more—the hanging TV, the pristine white couches, the glass coffee table. It feels more like a showroom than a home. My hand fiddles with the AC remote, turning it off, then on again. Off. On.

It strikes me: I have nothing to do. This isn't boredom—it's something worse. Confusion. If I were just bored, I could watch porn. But that's not why I'm here. She made it clear. I'm here for the girls. And they only show up in the reconcile room, during school hours. Mei, Shizuka, Carrie, and Claire—they're my purpose now. Without them, I'm just a stranger in this body, shivering under an AC I don't need.

I pace around, finally turning the AC off for good, and wander into the kitchen. The fridge hisses as I grab a carton of orange juice. I like orange juice. I drink it as if it's something I've missed for decades. As I sip, my gaze settles on a door with a panda face hanging on it. I know Lilly's bag is by the entrance, so this has to be her room.

My hand moves toward the silver knob, but I hesitate. I'm living with a girl now. Sure, I could pull the "I'm your brother, so it's not weird" excuse, but even I'm not that dense.

One, she's just a fourteen-year-old girl. Two, I'm not degenerate enough to sexualize a middle schooler... for now.

Before I can finish that thought, the front door beeps, and Lilly's voice fills the apartment. "I'm back."

I meet her in the living room, and behind her is a girl with white hair—familiar, too familiar. She looks like the one who stabbed me earlier. But her eyes are human as they meet mine, and she bows politely.

Lilly waves dismissively. "Oh, don't bother. This guy doesn't respect the concept of respect."

She turns to me, jabbing a finger in my direction. "And you, don't stare at my friend like that. Have your perverted tendencies evolved?"

I shake my head... not yet. "It's just... I think I've seen her before."

"What?" Lilly turns to her friend, "Oya, have you seen my brother somewhere?"

Oya? So that's her name. Oya tilts her head, her eyes scrutinizing me. "Yes. I saw him in front of Acadasia High School this evening. I'm sorry," she adds, turning to me, "for stabbing you with my pencil earlier."

Pencil huh...

Lilly groans, "What did I tell you about running around with your pencils? You're lucky you stabbed my brother and not someone else. What a coincidence."

Oya smiles at me—the same smile Life gave me. The urge to call her out, to demand why she's pretending to be human and befriending Lilly, bubbles up inside me.

But Lilly speaks first. She grabs Oya by the hand and pulls her toward her bedroom. Before the door shuts, she tosses me a warning glare.

"What?" I ask.

"Don't be weird."

"Am I being weird?"

"You're always weird, but tonight... you're different."

No shit, Lilly. I'm literally a different person. But you don't know that or will never so I give you a half-smile. "Maybe it's because I got accepted as a tutor at Acadasia High School."

Lilly laughs—a girlish, almost mocking laugh—then punches my shoulder. "Good one. Your jokes are still as ridiculous as ever."

"I'm serious," I say, scratching my chin.

She narrows her eyes, studying me for a long, uncomfortable moment. I can feel the body's instincts take over, sending out trust signals I don't fully understand. And, against all odds, it works.

Her jaw drops. "Holy shit... you're serious. How?"

I shrug. "Luck and charm, I guess."

Lilly doesn't seem pleased with my half-hearted answer. Her eyes narrow, sharp like a scalpel. "Look, those Negative Girls are not to be messed with. Even in my school, they were like urban legends—untouchable idols. I've heard how picky they are with tutors, switching them out like disposable gloves. They even vote on who gets to teach them." She takes a breath, her chest rising like she's trying to make a point. "And you—you're the first-ever male tutor they've accepted. I thought you were joking, not actually serious about this."

"Maybe that's why I can—because I'm a male," I say with a smile that's supposed to be charming, though her expression doesn't soften.

Her already sharp eyes squint. "But you're not even good-looking."

Am I not? I think I look great. But for the first time in a while, her thin lips curl into something resembling happiness, even if it's only the joy of mocking me.

"Heh. Don't expect any admiration from me, idiot. You're still that moronic brother of mine."

Our eyes lock for a moment, a rare moment of silent understanding—or maybe a lack of it.

"Move," she says, flatly.

"Why?"

"Move. I want to take a bath, idiot."

"Oh, right."

I step aside as she brushes past me and give a warning over her shoulder. "Don't do anything stupid."

She disappears into the bathroom, leaving me standing in the living room. Anything stupid, huh? What does she even mean by that? Not that I'm planning to do anything, but her definition of "stupid" seems flexible. Does she think locking up criminals is stupid? Maybe she believes cats are better than dogs. Or worse—maybe she thinks it's stupid for her brother to knock on her door and talk to her friend, who's staying over, and who also happens to not be human.

I find myself walking to the door, knocking softly. Oya opens it, her expression immediately shifting. The smile she wears is too wide, almost like it's been carved into her cheeks. There's something unsettling about it.

"You have a question," she says, her voice too calm, too knowing.

The door clicks shut behind me, and I hope Lilly takes her sweet time in the bath. Talking with Life—and Death—is never easy. I hesitate, trying to find the right words.

"You're Life."

"Obviously." She's almost mocking me.

I glance past her, into the mess of papers and books scattered around her room. "But now you're Oya, my sister's 'good friend.'"

Oya giggles, a sound that feels wrong in her mouth. "Already calling her your sister, are we? How sentimental."

It's not sentiment. The word just came out. She cuts off my response with a wave of her hand. "No need to explain. And no, I'm not pretending to be human. This is one of my thousand forms. A human, yes, but one of many."

"Sounds like you've got a lot of… you."

She nods. "Nurses, cats, parents, teachers, politicians, murderers. I am them—you'll find me almost anywhere, in any shape. But don't worry," she adds with a smile too sharp for her face. "This form was always fated to be Lilly's friend, even if you hadn't come into this world."

Without thinking, I reach out and pat her head. "This form's pretty easy to tease."

Her eyes narrow as she mimics pulling out an invisible knife, driving it straight toward my heart. "And easier to kill, too."

"Oukay..." I step back, hands raised in mock surrender. I need to tread carefully; provoking Life isn't exactly on my to-do list.

"I've been meaning to ask," I begin cautiously. "Ever since our... meeting in the Reconcile Room, something's been on my mind. You disappeared after my, uh, breakdown, and I didn't get the chance to ask. Why me? Why bring me back to deal with those girls' life and death?"

Oya tilts her head, a subtle smile creeping across her face as if she already knows my every thought. Which she probably does.

"Why is that so important to you?"

I scratch my arm. "I guess... I just want to know if I'm special. Or something."

Suddenly, Oya bursts into laughter—not the giggle of a middle-school girl, but the laugh of something much older and crueler. It's not coming from her, either. It's in my head—Life and Death laughing at me, mocking the idea that I might be 'special.'

Her lips part, and she says with a grin, "You're not special, Sunbae. There have been countless you. I picked you because you're the you-est you out there."

"You're not, uh, expecting me to understand this right?"

She shakes her head. "No, you don't have to. Just do your thing, change the flavor of the girls' death. I know you can do it."

Their flavor?

"You already know what it tastes like" she says, her voice soft but unwavering. "Your life and death had a flavor we liked. Your beginning and end were perfect."

I was living a sinful life and died after being stab... Is it that perfect?

Oya shrugs, her gaze drifting toward the door. Lilly's finished with her bath, judging by the sound of the door opening. But before I let her go, I have one more question.

"Ask away," Life says through Oya.

"How long can I be what I am now?"

Because I know... if this goes too long, I might lose my mind.

Oya smiles again, and for a second, I think she's about to reveal something profound, something no human should know. But her answer is simple.

She says slowly, "that time moves forward. No one and nothing can do anything about it."

I blink, confused, just as Lilly emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel.

"What are you doing with my friend?" she demands, her tone accusatory, though more annoyed than angry.

"Er," I wave her off awkwardly, "I was just asking about you."

Oya bows in apology, slipping back into her innocent guise. Lilly glares at me before kicking me squarely in the leg.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"For doing something stupid," she huffs, retreating toward her bedroom.

I watch her go, rubbing my sore leg. "You kicking me without clothes on is stupider than anything I've done."

She pauses, shielding herself with her arms. "Don't make this weirder, idiot.

"I'm not cooking tonight," she blurts, "so make instant noodles or whatever. Bye."

The door slams shut behind her, muffling their conversation inside. I sigh, realizing that eavesdropping would be pointless now.

Instead, I find myself staring at my phone, wondering when the next Loop will happen—when I'll have to pretend to be a real tutor again.