An Encounter with the Next-Door Neighbor
So this is Marin's place.
I glanced back and forth between the location pin glowing on my phone's map app and the mansion standing before my eyes.
This was the residential district for Purity Academy students.
I'd already figured out that she lived here as one of the academy's students. What I hadn't known was just how close her house was to mine.
"Two lots away. That's basically the house next door. We're neighbors."
The original story had unfolded from Eva's point of view. The author never went into detail about where everyone lived, so I'd had no idea Marin's house was this close to mine.
"Writer, you knew about this, didn't you?"
<Roughly, yes. I literally wrote the episode where Eva visits Marin's house — there's no way I wouldn't know that.>
"Then you could've told me how to get here!"
<It's less than a minute away if you run. How was I supposed to know you'd wander around lost for twenty whole minutes?>
"Goddammit."
Even I had to admit it was so absurd I was left speechless. My mistake had been letting stupid pride get the better of me — refusing to open a navigation app and relying only on the text Marin had sent me. Look at that. One glance at the map, and here I am.
"Every single house looks identical out here. I felt like I was circling the same spot over and over."
<Marin's probably wondering why you're so late.>
"It's fine. I'm not the one who has to wait."
<What a garbage human being.>
"You're only now noticing?"
Anyway, mission accomplished — I'd reached my destination. That was all that mattered, wasn't it? Thank goodness I hadn't texted her an estimated arrival time.
Standing in front of the house, I pressed the doorbell.
Ding-dong!
"Why isn't anyone coming out?"
<Maybe she just can't hear it?>
Then I'll press it again.
Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong!
"I'm here, Marin! Come out already!"
<You're being a public nuisance, Reader. That's enough now.>
"I know, I know."
Yeah, I knew that much myself. I gave the bell one final short press to wrap things up and waited for her to come out.
I could sense movement inside the house. Marin was definitely in there. I assumed something urgent had come up and she couldn't come to the door.
Oh.
After reading Marin's messages, I grabbed the door handle and turned. The door swung open with a click. There was a digital lock on it, but it was completely dead — powered off, apparently.
"Her security is a total joke. Does this girl seriously not care if a stranger just walks into her house?"
<That's exactly the kind of girl our Marin is, you know.>
"Fair enough. She is that kind of girl."
Even if someone suspicious broke in, she'd sense their presence and simply strike up a conversation with the trespasser. And if they brandished a knife at her, she had more than enough strength to subdue them in return. A lock like this was as good as no lock at all.
"Hey."
The moment I stepped inside, Marin greeted me with a wave of her hand.
"Can I ask what you were doing?"
"Why?"
"Well, you weren't answering the door no matter how much I rang, so I got worried. If something urgent came up, we can push the note-taking lesson to another day."
"Nothing came up. Door was open, so obviously I assumed you'd come in."
"Good enough for me."
Anyone else might have gotten annoyed at being ignored after all that bell-ringing and demanded she at least come check the door. But having read Academy Yuri Princess, I knew exactly what kind of girl Marin was, so I let it slide without a second thought.
"Let's get started. Do you have a desk in this house?"
"Yes. Here."
Marin guided me to the living room and showed me the wide, low table sitting in the middle of it.
Oh? Didn't expect that thing to be here.
Purity Academy provided every student with a house that came standard with a bed and a refrigerator. Anything beyond that was handled by handing the students a generous allowance to furnish the empty space however they liked.
But Marin's house had always been completely bare. She simply didn't understand the point of furniture. Unlike humans, she couldn't feel discomfort — without a desk she'd hunch over on the floor, and without a bed she'd sprawl out on the hardwood. That was her daily life. Think of it as a "use it if it's there, but why bother getting one?" kind of arrangement.
I remembered from the occasional breather episodes in the novel that Eva's group once visited Marin's house, saw how barren it was, and dragged her out shopping. That's why the table was here now.
"I bought this a few days ago."
"It does gleam like it's brand-new."
"Chloe came by a few days ago to tutor me, and she bought it for me on her way out."
"So that's what happened."
The study group we'd formed for the practical assessment. Chloe had evaluated the group members' abilities through a mock exam and formed her own rough estimates.
Me? I was the type who did fine on my own. I posted the top scores in both the written and practical portions, so all Chloe did was occasionally hand me a test sheet — otherwise she didn't interfere with me at all.
Eva was lazy, not incapable — she actually performed well when she applied herself, so Chloe just pinned her down and made her work. Her efforts bore fruit: Eva pulled off the feat of scoring above average.
That left only Marin. She could cut down even the top-ranked student in a one-second sparring match, so if we solved her written-exam problem, everything was settled. Considering that this table had been a gift, Chloe had clearly visited Marin's house for the same reason I had — and witnessed this desolate wasteland of a home, no doubt. I didn't need to see it to know.
Hm, what's that, though?
I noticed a book lying open on the table, writing utensils scattered around it.
Was she studying while waiting for me to show up?
"What is it? Never seen a table before?"
"No, it's not that. That book on the table — that's a textbook, right?"
"Yes. Practical assessment tomorrow. Have to study."
Marin crouched down at the table and swiftly cleared away the clutter, making room for me to set down my things.
"Let's start."
"Then I'll take you up on that."
I sat down across from her and placed my secret weapon for raising her score on the table.
"Here. Take this."
"Another written exam?"
"Today's goal is to analyze and study the problems on that paper in depth. Let's do this."
"Will this actually work?"
Marin looked up at me. The same expressionless face she always wore. From the outside, there was no telling what she was thinking at all. So I focused on her words instead — on what she was actually saying, namely: can I really score high even if I work through this?
I didn't need to read too much into it. Marin was honestly laying her heart bare. Unlike people who hid their true nature behind lies and masks, she was simply incapable of lying.
"You can worry after you finish these problems. I will raise your grades — guaranteed. So shelve the doubts."
"Okay."
The girl's voice had lost its spark. Her confidence had clearly taken a nosedive.
At some point without my knowing, Chloe must have invested real time in Marin, trying to lift her grades — and failed. Chloe wouldn't have let it show, but Marin would have noticed. That she was frustrating her tutor. That her own level fell short of expectations.
One look at the fact that Marin — who wouldn't so much as touch anything that didn't interest her — had grudgingly spread a book open on that table told the whole story. Chloe had sent me over here as her last straw. I could picture her biting her nails, pacing back and forth, wondering whether I could actually plug the Marin-shaped hole.
"You wrote all this out by hand?"
"I poured my heart and soul into curating every problem that could plausibly appear on the practical assessment."
<Don't you dare lie to me! That's literally the actual practical assessment sheet for tomorrow, stolen outright!>
"Writer, read the room. This is where you're supposed to play along — go 'wow, how impressive, Reader!' and pretend you don't know."
Seriously, I'm over here striking a pose and she has to go and ruin it.
Fine. I'll be honest.
Raising Marin's grades above average in a single day? Was that even possible? By any conventional method, absolutely not.
Which is why — transmigration cheat, activate!
The practical assessment exam sheet the Writer had stashed away in her setting notes. I'd copied it verbatim and handed it to Marin. A flawless duplicate, accurate down to the last stroke. If things got desperate, I could just order her to memorize the answer key. A plan that could not fail. This was my victory, no two ways about it.
"Alright, let's get to work."
Chloe, you just keep polishing up that naked dogeza, sweetheart.
Time flowed by like water. The blazing afternoon sun sank beneath the dark, and the glow from a single house shimmered alone in the residential street.
"Ugh, I'm dying!"
"Thank you."
<You worked hard.>
Marin and the Writer thanking me for my labors — I answered both of them with a raised thumbs-up. Then I heaved a long sigh and slumped forward onto the table. The moment my face sank into my arms, the exhaustion I'd been holding at bay came flooding in.
So teaching someone is no joke, huh.
Even with the transmigration cheat securing the exam questions in advance, making her rote-memorize the answers was strictly a last resort. I'd built the whole lesson around the exam sheet, and just like that, the day was gone.
Marin's face was as blank as ever. But there was life in her eyes now. The exam sheet beside her was packed edge to edge with dense pencil-written answers and explanations. Most of it was me dictating and explaining, but there were definitely parts she'd worked through and written down on her own. Barely scraping by, maybe — but there was progress. And that was enough.
"I'm heading out."
"Leaving?"
"Have to. It's about time I went to sleep."
I wanted to go home this instant and faceplant straight into bed. Rubbing my half-lidded eyes, I pushed myself up from my seat.
"Good luck on the practical assessment tomorrow. See you next time."
I waved goodbye and shuffled toward the front door on wobbling legs.
That was when it happened.
"Don't go."
"Hm?"
Marin had grabbed me by the cuff of my pants, stopping me in my tracks.