His head turned to the left, the right side of his face touching the pillow. Parallel to his front was his left hand while to his back was his right. His right leg was stretched to the bottom, like a normal relaxing posture while his left made a perpendicular at his hip, making him look like a clown that was practicing his tricks while asleep.

Heima stood next to him, her eyes turning green. She reached out her hand, planning to wake him up, stopping mid-way. She observed his face, concentrating on his nose, making a note of his breathing speed. She noticed the expansion and contraction of his chest region, focusing back to his face.

'His posture, breathing, and even the trait of his eyelids not fully covering his eyes, they are all the same. What else is there?' Heima thought, craning her body, inching closer to his ears.

Taking a deep breath, she shouted, "Wake up! Red siren!"

"Higyak," Jyorta jumped up with fright, using his hands to cover the sides of his stomach. Heima breached his defences, reaching his sensitive spots and started tickling him.

"Ehehe..sist..haha..er…sto..ahaha…p…" Struggling to break free, Jyorta wriggled his body, trying his best to defend his ticklish regions. Tears streamed out of his eyes, his laughter non-stop as Heima didn't relent her attacks.

"Brat, did you miss your sister? The stock for so many years, let me give them all to you now!" Heima let out a chuckle, her voice turning high pitched. She tickled him without rest, for a good two minutes. Only when Jyorta looked like he couldn't endure any longer did she pause, giving him some room to breathe.

"We have arranged for a home tutor. He will be arriving in an hour, so make sure you become ready by then." Saying her piece, Heima tickled him for another 10 seconds before exiting the room.

Closing the door shut behind her, Heima sported the same expression, one filled with a playful demeanour. Her face looked like she had just enjoyed, her lips curled up into a smile. Her eyes were filled with gentleness, mixed with a trace of longingness and sadness.

'Everything about him is the same,' She thought, heading to the kitchen. There, she noticed Hancent pouring a cup of dough over a metal pan, spreading it thin over its surface. He then added a spoon of oil around it, making it form a layer surrounding the dough. He then placed a lid—shaped like a hemisphere, with a handle at the top—above it, covering the entirety.

The entire process was executed with seamless perfection, ingrained into his body muscles over decades of practice. His eyes though, were in a daze, staring at the handle on the lid. He did the entire process mechanically, as if he had lost his soul.

"Dad, let me make it." Heima volunteered, pushing him to the side. Though she hadn't used any strength in her push, Hancent fell, tumbling along the direction of her push.

"Dad!" Heima shouted, appearing behind him and holding him steady. A faint wind was stirred up in the kitchen due to her speed, making the flame on the stove flicker.

"I…am fine." Hancent shook his head, walking to the living room. He switched on the TV, watching the broadcast of a reality show, meant for comedy. He watched it in silence, like a still lake, undisturbed during the winter.

Jyorta sat on the bed, holding his stomach. He felt pain in the area, thanks to having laughed uncontrollably. He massaged his sore muscles, having overtaxed them in a short time.

'Even though it is me, living as Jyorta is difficult. Even the way in which he and I think and react is different. Also, that sister character was clearly testing me. How could I not notice it? Even though she acted warm and lively, she is not an actor; she gave away her true intentions numerous times. Only someone as dense as Jyorta could miss it,' He thought, using his main persona to ponder.

Having experienced the creepy encounter the previous night, he dared not move, see, or speak while his main persona was active. He closed his eyes, acting like he was tired, thinking up various measures.

'Unlike me, Jyorta doesn't have a knack for observation. It is also easy to fool him, considering his happy-go-lucky personality; his ignorance of the human psyche and behaviours further makes things worse. Whenever I get a chance, I should switch over to my persona and analyse the memories, to constantly stay on guard. This world seems a lot more dangerous than I had thought. I probably wouldn't even know what hit me if I stayed 24x7 in Jyorta's persona.' Reverting to Jyorta's persona, he stood up, stretching his arms in order to relieve his numbness.

'There is a good possibility that my sister is standing behind me, observing my actions. Unless absolutely necessary, I should refrain from using my main persona.' Pushing open a door, Jyorta entered the bathroom.

"New brush~" He sang a song, picking up a brand new toothbrush from a cover, washing it once in the tap water. He then began to freshen up, taking his sweet time, struggling to move his body, feeling the strain in his muscles.

8:20 AM, Jyorta emerged out of the bathroom, a towel draped around his hips. He opened the cupboard, going around his clothes.

"They are all my old clothes. They no longer fit me." With a mutter, he closed the cupboard, walking into the living room.

Seeing his sister in the living room, serving breakfast to Hancent, he felt the image of a lady coincided with her. Jyorta stood in a daze for a good 10 seconds, his eyes moistening up.

"Mother…" He uttered, his voice feeble. Heima placed the breakfast over a plate and handed it to Hancent. He subconsciously took the plate, eating from it. It probably wouldn't have made any difference whether he ate food or some grass. Heima turned around, acting like she hadn't heard anything.

Seeing her gaze, Jyorta regained his senses, "S-Sister, I don't have any clothes to wear. All my old clothes have become small."

"I see," Heima walked to her room, fishing out a set of clothes from her cupboard. "Here, wear this."

With a bright smile on her face, she flashed a frock, embroidered with flower patterns, and filled with frills. Jyorta's face flushed red, embarrassed, "Give me something normal; one that boys can wear."

"But, this will look good on you. I guarantee it." She held it before him, aligning its topmost part with his shoulders. "See, it's a perfect fit."

"No way," Jyorta said, taking the opportunity to dig into her cupboard, taking out a pair of tracks and a loose shirt. Except for some minute designs that bordered around the feminine side, he felt the clothes were satisfactory to his tastes.

"Are you sure?" She looked at him with concern, "The frock suits you more. Are you sure you wouldn't regret your decision?"

"I won't!" Jyorta shouted, rushing out of the room. A moment later, he walked in, his face beet red. "Sister, what should I do about my underwear? I don't have any."

"Well," Heima's lips curled up, a devilish sneer plastered across her face. Her eyes looked excited as she almost let out a chuckle.

8:30 AM, Jyorta sat on the sofa in the living room, wolfing down the food. At some point in time, the tracks he was supposed to wear had been changed into leggings while the shirt he wore was slightly longer, having a skirt type pattern at the ending.

His face red, bowed down, facing only the food he was eating. The bell bang as Heima opened the door, greeting the man that had arrived.

"Hello, I'm Rishinik Walta, the home tutor you had requested." The man introduced himself, showing his ID card. Leaving his shoes at the doorstep, he entered the house. In the living room, other than Heima who had received him at the entrance, he only spotted Jyorta, obediently sitting on the sofa.

"Pardon me for asking, but where is Jyorta Bone?" He inquired, looking around the spacious living room.

"I am Jyorta Bone." Jyorta stood up, greeting the man after getting a cue from Heima.

"But, from the registration, the student named Jyorta Bone was supposed to be a boy?" He looked at Heima, confusion plastered across his face.

"That is him." Heima pointed at Jyorta, "I am sorry, he had been discharged from the hospital just yesterday. Hence, his clothing; I request your apology."

"Ah, its fine; it is not my place to concern with such stuff." The man waved his hand. Directed by Heima, he sat on a sofa, arranged to be perpendicular to Jyorta. Before them was placed a glass table, knee-height to them. Atop it was a blank notebook and some stationery.

"I won't be disturbing you from here on, please continue with your classes," Heima said, retreating to her room, signalling Jyorta with eye contact, warning him to maintain an appropriate behaviour.

"So," Rishinik Walta gazed at Jyorta, "I believe you were informed about the volume of subjects you have to finish by this October, right?"

"Yes, sir," Jyorta replied, feeling a slight sense of exhaustion creep up on him, looking at the textbooks the home tutor began to take out. They formed a small hill atop the glass table, their overbearing size suffocating him.

"Well," Seeing his look, Rishinik Walta flashed out a smile, "You don't need to worry. They may look like a lot, but their contents are quite simple. Also, I am renowned for my teaching methods that follow a simple, easy to comprehend style. So, shall we begin?"

"Yes, sir," Jyorta replied, looking like he might cry any moment. At one corner of the living room stood Heima, watching the duo; her position gave her a clear view of the two, while she was invisible to them, having activated her Tier 3 Skill.

'Let me see whether my hypothesis is true or not. Jyorta…' She sighed, continuing to observe them. Having received a call while Jyorta was eating, Hancent had left for some urgent business, his face filled with hesitation. Though, judging by his ashen face, she could easily guess the reason.

Heima's eyes turned green, her demeanour turning cold, like a predator lying in wait, hiding in an inconspicuous location, waiting for the prey to fall into the trap.