Chapter 18: Biological Instincts

At the moment her “husband” locked eyes with Risa—

She almost exhausted a lifetime’s worth of acting skill in a fraction of a second, forcibly twisting the lingering shock and fear in her eyes into a gentle, demure smile.

“Honey,” she heard her own voice, slightly dry, “um… would you like some fruit? I bought melon.”

The man looked at her quietly for two seconds. Those unfathomable eyes seemed devoid of any emotion.

Then he gave a slight nod.

“Mm, okay.”

Risa felt as if she had been pardoned. She immediately turned around and practically lunged toward the refrigerator.

As she opened the fridge, a wave of cold air rushed out, cooling her flushed cheeks and chaotic thoughts.

She took out the melon, washed it carefully in the sink, then began peeling it.

The sharp blade scraped across the rind with a steady rustling sound.

She focused all her attention on her hands, as if peeling the melon were the most important task in the world.

Was that just now… a coincidence?

Or had he really noticed something?

Would the watcher above her head have already reported how she had been spacing out in the kitchen, her expressions shifting?

Time passed in silence.

After finishing the fruit, the man watched TV for a while before getting up and heading to the bathroom.

Like yesterday, Risa had already prepared the bathwater for him in advance, adjusting it to the right temperature.

When the man took off his shirt, revealing a well-proportioned, muscular upper body with smooth lines, Risa’s face flushed instantly. She hurriedly averted her gaze, but a voice in her mind screamed:

“Hey! Nakano Risa! Get a grip!

Your soul is male! Male!

Why the hell are you blushing at another man’s body?!

This is just the body’s instinctive reaction!

Control yourself! Get it under control!”

As she mentally cursed this unreliable body and its lingering biological instincts, she lowered her head and quickly tried to leave the bathroom, escaping the awkward and oppressive space.

However, just as her fingers were about to touch the doorknob, a slightly cool yet firm hand suddenly reached from behind and grabbed her wrist.

That touch made her freeze instantly, as if her blood had solidified.

The man’s low voice, carrying the languid humidity before a bath, sounded close to her ear:

“That kid Nobuhito… still doesn’t have much strength.”

His tone was casual, even gentle, but the grip on her wrist left no room for escape.

“Tonight, you can scrub my back instead.”

He paused slightly, the last two words delivered clearly into her ears, carrying an intimacy and probing tone that allowed no refusal:

“Alright, dear?”

As a wife, helping her husband scrub his back… in family dramas, it seemed like a completely ordinary, even warm scene.

But—“What ‘normal’?!”

Nakano Risa screamed internally.

Maybe for others—but not for her!

Setting aside the fact that this body’s husband wasn’t her real husband—

Scrubbing his back?

Close physical contact?

What if, in that private, warm, steam-filled environment, he suddenly developed an interest in her—what would she do?

Fear wrapped around her heart like cold seaweed.

She wanted to refuse, but when the words reached her lips, they came out as broken, trembling fragments: “I… I’ll go change my clothes first, okay? This outfit… isn’t very convenient.”

She tugged lightly at her damp loungewear, using it as a barely passable excuse.

The man released her wrist, the cool touch withdrawing.

He responded with a calm “Mm,” seemingly accepting her reason.

She pulled the door open like she was fleeing, slipped out, and gently closed it behind her.

Only after leaning against the cold door panel did Risa dare to gasp for air, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

Did that count as… narrowly escaping for now?

But what about next?

He was still waiting inside.

Did she really have to go back in?

She stood frozen in the hallway for a long moment, her mind in turmoil.

The consequences of refusal were unpredictable—possibly arousing suspicion. Going in, however, felt like personally delivering herself into an uncertain danger.

In the end, her fear of immediate danger from being exposed outweighed the fear of potential risks.

She couldn’t show anything abnormal right now.

Dragging her feet back to the bedroom, she took out a plain bathrobe.

As she dressed, she did so with a sense of grim determination—fastening her undergarments tightly and tying the bathrobe belt into a firm knot.

Looking into the mirror, she saw a pale, tense face, her eyes filled with panic and reluctant resignation.

She took a deep breath, trying to suppress those terrifying thoughts, though she couldn’t stop the subtle trembling of her body.

Pushing open the bathroom door, warm, humid steam mixed with the faint scent of body wash rushed toward her, instantly blurring her vision.

Through the haze, the man sat with his back to her on a low stool by the bathtub. His broad shoulders and firm back were faintly visible through the mist, water droplets sliding slowly along his muscles.

The sight was striking, causing Risa’s cheeks to heat up uncontrollably again.

She pinched her palm hard, using the pain to restore clarity. “Get a grip! That’s a man’s body! Your soul is also male! This is just a task—a survival task!”

She moved behind him and picked up a damp, wrung-out towel.

Her fingers inevitably brushed against his skin—warm, moist, firm, and undeniably real.

Holding her breath, she began wiping from his shoulders downward in a mechanical, cautious manner.

Her movements were stiff. Every touch kept her nerves on edge, ready to react to any sudden change.

The bathroom was quiet, filled only with the sound of water and her own overly loud heartbeat.

The man lowered his head slightly, allowing her to continue. He said nothing, made no extra moves, as if he were simply enjoying an entirely ordinary back-scrubbing.

Time dragged on in silent torment.

A thin layer of sweat formed on Risa’s forehead—whether from the heat or her extreme tension, she couldn’t tell.

All her attention was focused on the towel in her hand and the skin beneath it. Her mind was blank, filled only with the prayer: please let this end quickly.

Finally, the man’s low voice broke the silence: “That’s enough.”

To Risa, it sounded like heavenly music.

She stopped immediately, almost springing back a step. “Then… I’ll head out first,” she said softly, before turning and leaving without looking back, quickly shutting the bathroom door behind her—once again separating herself from that suffocating space.

The cool air of the hallway eased the heat on her skin slightly.

Leaning against the wall, she slowly slid down to the floor, gasping for breath, feeling like she had just returned from a high-risk mission, completely drained of strength.

Droplets clung to her forehead—whether condensed steam or cold sweat, she looked utterly disheveled.

A sense of surviving a disaster spread through her body—but right on its heels came a faint, barely perceptible feeling… of loss?

She froze, then fiercely knocked her forehead with her knuckles.

Nakano Risa, what are you thinking?

Have you lost your mind?!

That thing is an unknown monster wearing human skin!

Dangerous! Extremely dangerous!

Nothing happening just now was the greatest stroke of luck!

That pitiful biological instinct of yours, influenced by this body’s hormones—shut up immediately!

Reason! Reason above all!

Survival is the top priority!

She shook her head forcefully and pushed herself up using the wall.

The sound of running water still came from the bathroom—her “husband” was still inside.

And she had no choice but to keep playing her role… until she found a way out.

No matter what, reason must never surrender to foolish biological instincts.