Koko Jidai Ni Gomandatta Jou Sama To No Dosei Seikatsu Ha Igaito Igokochi Ga Warukunai [updated] -

One evening, the Housing Harmonization Bureau sent a notice: Jō-sama was to be reassigned. "Incompatibility with collective morale," they said. You knew what that meant. Someone had reported him. Maybe the landlord. Maybe a neighbor. Maybe you, by association.

He left his shoes pointing inward — bad feng shui, but also a violation of the Household Purity Codex. He played old music at odd hours: jazz from a century ago, the kind where the saxophone sounded like a person crying. He never apologized. When you once asked him why he didn't watch the Emperor's evening address, he just looked at you and said: "I prefer to watch the sky instead."

The first week, you hated him.

But you kept the candle. You watched the sparrow. And when the Emperor’s voice came on at 7 PM, you turned your face to the window, toward the darkening sky, and smiled.

The words settle into your chest like a low, familiar ache: "In the Emperor’s era, living together with the arrogant Jō-sama isn’t as uncomfortable as I expected." One evening, the Housing Harmonization Bureau sent a

Arrogant? No. You realized you had misread him entirely.

He smiled. Not arrogantly. Gently. "Yes. That’s why I keep it." The days passed. Someone had reported him

You laughed — a short, rusty sound you hadn’t made in years. "That’s superstitious."