Mizuki gawked at the person sitting on his bed, unable to find the right words – any words – to express the shock and utter confusion that washed over him. Meanwhile, his heart pounded to the drum of sheer terror. Why was there a stranger in his house? How did he get in?

Moreover, why was this stranger naked, and what was he intending to do to him? Why on—

“Welcome home, Mizuki.” The man said. His voice was soft, gentle.

Why did he know his name?!

Mizuki gaped at the other man, trying his best to avoid actually staring.

“Wh-what the hell are you doing in my house?” he finally croaked.

The stranger looked at him, as if he hadn’t understood what Mizuki was saying. It struck Mizuki that perhaps he hadn’t. Overcome by confusion and distress, he’d yelled out in Japanese rather than English. Still though, he thought furiously, wouldn’t the tone alone be enough to convey the gist of it? Was it really necessary for him to accommodate some intruder in his own home?

“A-aren’t you going to say something?” he regained his composure, glaring furiously at the man. This time he spoke in English. “I’ll call the police.”

The other man kept staring at him, remaining in the same position.

Something about his demeanor was familiar. Yet Mizuki swore he’d never seen this guy before.

Wouldn’t he have remembered someone with such distinct looks? The startlingly green gaze holding his?

“What do you want?” he tried. “How did you even get in?”

His worries mounted in his chest. Perhaps he really should have called the police right away.

He clutched the cell phone in his pocket, while slowly shifting his gaze away from the stranger.

A quick sweep of the room assured him that nothing seemed to be missing – of course, he didn’t possess any valuables save from his debit card, laptop and phone, all of which were on him.

Something was off about the room though. Different.

The table seemed unusually clean somehow, as if something was missing..?

Mizuki looked from the table to the bed. From the empty, clean surface to the man sitting amidst the mess of blankets and pillows. His skin was oddly colored, a kind of reddish tan. His hair was a mess of thick, unruly spikes of bright red, falling down over his naked shoulders and into those deep green eyes.

A silk ribbon tied into a bow adorned his lower stomach.

Mizuki’s eyes widened.

“No way.”

“You’re catching on,” said the man’s smooth, calm voice. “The flower has bloomed.”