Volume 1 - CH 7

Seventh day of confinement

Translated by SoundDestiny

Edited by Kaepinned

Slowly, I’m feeling better.

My physical condition has finally recovered to the point where I can say that I am in perfect health.

This is probably the result of getting proper sleep, cutting out alcohol and cigarettes and following the healthy diet she provides.

As my body and mind get better, I can afford to think about her ecology.

Indeed, looking at her uniform, it is probably safe to say that she is a high school girl.

Although there is a possibility that the school uniform is a cosplay one bought by mail order, at least hers is not the cheap one that is  used for party goods.

It’s not impossible that she may have bought a real school uniform from a graduate through a flea market app or something, but there’s no point in going that far to get a school uniform. 

Or rather, 『Sakuraba』. I think it is a rich public school, quite famous in the neighbourhood.

I thought about this when I saw the school emblem sewn onto the uniform.

I don’t have any children and haven’t taken any proper entrance exams, so I’m not well informed about this kind of school.

But, as I recall, a middle-aged woman I passed in a local supermarket said to me, 『Ha, we don’t have the money to send you to Sakuraba』. I think she was having a conversation like that

As a school that was described with such words, it can be assumed that the tuition fees must be quite high. After all, it must be a rich school.

A student who can afford to attend a rich school would surely not try to make a few coins by selling her uniform on a flea market app.

So it is safe to assume that the uniform she is wearing is her own property.

Anyway, if she is a genuine high school girl, it is strange that she is modelling for my drawings during the daytime on weekdays like this.

‘Doesn’t  she have to go to school?’

Of course, there are students who tend to skip school, but she doesn’t seem to be that type.

If I don’t have the concentration to draw the entire day long, she will be in the kitchen, except when she’s modelling.

But even then, there is no indication that she is out and about.

I always feel her presence outside the room.

The proof of this is that whenever I ask to go to the toilet, she will give a response.

‘In a sense, can it be said that this is a luxurious life of confinement? Normally, the standard for waste disposal in confinement is the potty or nappies……’

At least, this is the case in films and comics.

Even those who incarcerate them find it a hassle to accompany them to the toilet every time since they have another job to do.

In addition, the right to go to the toilet is taken away in order to have the effect of mentally subjugating the incarcerated person and trampling on their dignity as a human being.

However, she follows me to the toilet every time with a knife and a chain that she has removed, in a disciplined manner.

So I guess she doesn’t want to abuse me.

In fact, since she locked me up, I’ve been feeling better than before.

‘Come to think of it, what does she do late at night? I wonder if she ever goes home…’

Such a thought suddenly came.

Since I entered the confinement, she has been controlling my rhythm of life, including my meals, so I’m half forced to lead a regular life.

My sleep cycle is also becoming healthy, with me going to bed before eleven at night and getting up around seven in the morning.

‘Does this count as rebellion?’

To settle this question, I went to sleep earlier than usual.

Then, around five in the morning, I woke up with a whimper.

“Sorry! I need to go to the toilet!”

I called out outside my room.

I can still afford to hold it, but I really want to go to the bathroom.

For a few seconds, there is no response.

Eventually, a thumping, rattling, busy noise is heard.

‘As I predicted, she is always at home’

It seems safe to assume so.

**Gacha**

Eventually, the door opens.

The girl is in her uniform as usual.

“……….”

She comes towards me, knife in hand, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

She unclips the chain as usual, takes the end of it and leads me out of the room.

“I see you sleep in your pyjamas at night.”

I say, giving a quick glance at the freshly removed garment out of the corner of my eye.

It has a unique design, with a skull pattern on the hood and zombies printed on the body parts.

Next to it is a sleeping bag.

This also has an interesting design that looks like a vampire’s coffin.

“!!”

She reacts to my words with unexpected agility.

Quickly, she moves the sleeping bag with her feet and hides her pyjamas.

Is she embarrassed to be seen in her pyjamas?

Is it OK for her to let me see her in her swimsuit, but not her pyjamas?

I don’t understand her behaviour.

“I’m sorry.”

I bow my head.

I just casually mentioned something that caught my eye, not that I wanted to embarrass her.

“It’s fine.”

She said bluntly.

I quickly do my business and flush.

“──Just wait a minute.”

She continued, and with the chain in her hand, she goes into the toilet as if to switch places.

The sound of the toilet water running is heard again.

It’s too early to finish her business, so I think it’s what’s known as sound masking.

‘Come to think of it, I’m sharing a bathroom and toilet with JK right now…..’

It is a conclusion that is naturally drawn from the fact that the girl is staying in this room, but it is still embarrassing to be reminded about it again in this way.

**Don**

The bathroom door swings open, as if to rebuke my ill-informed imagination.

“──I want…”

The girl is muttering something.

“Eh? What is it? I can’t hear you!”

I raised my voice slightly.

Her voice is even quieter than usual.

There is no way I can hear her through the door.

I put my hands over my ears and bring my face close to the door.

“…toilet paper.”

**Gacha, batan.**

For a few tenths of a second the toilet door was half-open and then quickly closed.

“Ah, ah! Yes, yes! That’s what you meant.”

I run hurriedly to the bathroom.

The chain is just barely long enough but I managed to get some toilet paper out and dance back to the front of the toilet.

“I got it!”

I turn my back to the toilet and hold out the toilet paper with my back facing the door.

**Gacha.**

“You’re late.”

While hearing a slightly irritated girl’s voice, my hand becomes light.

I can hear the sound of the door closing again.

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‘Aa—, I’m surprised……I saw that girl earlier when she opened the door, maybe black underwear, right?’

By any chance, will I get accused of some kind of crime?

Or, rather, is the girl aware that I saw her underwear in the first place?

If she didn’t notice, she’s too defenceless and if she intended to show it on purpose, I have to say she is underestimating men  too much. Not all men in the world are slackers like me.

After some moment of anguish and not being in the mood to continue due to consideration of her condition, I go back to bed and lay down.