The second day with Hana started exactly as I expected:
Chaos… but this time with an added flavor of innocent explosions.
I woke up late — something that happens when you spend half the night convincing yourself you're a respectable man.
I dragged myself out of my room, frowning, my hair defying gravity.
And there she was…
In the kitchen…
Wearing an incredibly short white nightgown, practically a public announcement of the collapse of my resistance.
The thin, transparent fabric barely covered her slender body, and her bare legs sparkled under the faint morning light.
She stood on her tiptoes, trying to reach a high shelf…
The result?
An unforgivable display.
I swallowed hard.
> "Keep your eyes in check, pervert… up to the ceiling, down to the floor, anywhere but where you're committing a crime."
"Good morning!" she cheerfully said, waving her small hand at me.
I waved back without raising my eyes from the floor.
"Would you like to have breakfast with me?" she asked, smiling.
"Of course..." I mumbled, thinking: "In this position? No thanks, I'll settle for air."
I sat on the chair, trying to maintain a safe distance, and an even bigger psychological distance.
...
Hana was acting naturally, as if everything was completely normal.
She sat across from me at the table…
Then suddenly — she leaned forward, bringing her innocent face closer to mine.
"You look tired…" she whispered with concern, her eyes glowing with innocence.
> "Tired? Girl, I'm in a psychological war because of you."
Then — oh, the disaster — she reached out and touched my cheek with her soft fingers.
I felt an electric shock run down my spine.
My hands involuntarily trembled.
Hana smiled gently, then said with childlike seriousness:
"If you want, I can… relax you."
I froze in place.
> "Relax me?"
"What kind of 'relaxation' do you mean, you little killer?"
"Now I understand why they say the devil speaks through the innocent."
I said in an artificially calm tone:
"R… relax me, how exactly?"
She tilted her head to the side, a deep thinking expression crossing her features, before she simply replied:
"I heard my friends say that relaxation sometimes means a massage… or something nice like that."
"I… can try."
...
A massage.
With her small, soft hands.
While wearing a nightgown that covers nothing.
Perfect.
Destroy me more, you human bomb.
...
I stammered, quickly waving my hands:
"No, no, no! Thank you! I'm very relaxed! More relaxed than I should be!" I said, almost crying inside.
Hana nodded in understanding, then became engrossed in preparing breakfast, unaware that she had left me sitting there, fighting off an early heart attack.
...
While we were having breakfast, she suddenly lifted her head and said with an overwhelmingly innocent seriousness:
"By the way… Dad told me to be an obedient girl here… and to obey you in everything."
I stared at her.
Then, I slowly placed the spoon down on the table.
> "Oh, men… pray for my soul, for I'm in an inescapable mess."