The living room of the Grand Zenith was thick with an awkwardness so heavy you could practically trip over it. Mikoto hadn't left his room for more than five minutes at a time since the "Triple Confession," only emerging to leave plates of food at their doors like a shy ghost.
Inside the girls' suite, a secret "Summit" was being held.
"We can't just let him hide in there until his heart rate hits 200," Marin declared, tossing a fashion catalog onto the bed. "He’s overwhelmed. He needs a change of environment. Something... stimulating."
"Stimulating?" Shino adjusted her glasses, looking at a spreadsheet. "If you mean a vacation, my data suggests that a trip to the Neo-Tokyo Waterpark would provide the optimal blend of Vitamin D and physical relaxation."
Karen looked at her sisters, her face turning pink. "Wait... a waterpark? That means... we’d have to... you know."
"Swimsuits," Marin smirked, her eyes gleaming with competitive fire. "Exactly. If he’s going to choose, he needs to see the full 'performance.' No lab coats, no tracksuits, and definitely no scripts."
The Shopping War
Later that afternoon, the sisters hit the high-end boutiques of Ginza.
Karen stared at a rack of bikinis. She usually wore functional, one-piece athletic suits for training. But she found herself reaching for a vibrant, sunset-orange two-piece. It was bold, energetic, and showed off the toned curves she’d developed from years of tennis. “Will he think I look like a champion... or just a girl?” she wondered, her heart thumping.
Marin went straight for the "Femme Fatale" section. She chose a sheer, emerald-green wrap over a black bikini that screamed 'Movie Star on a Secret Getaway.' She knew exactly how to use shadows and fabric to keep his eyes on her.
Shino spent thirty minutes analyzing the fabric tension of a minimalist, midnight-blue suit. It was cut high at the hip—purely for "hydrodynamics," she told herself—but the way it hugged her frame made her reflection look like a stranger.
The Departure
The next morning, Mikoto stood by the van, his eyes wide as the three sisters walked out of the elevator, each carrying a beach bag and wearing oversized sunhats.
"A waterpark, Mikoto," Karen said, her voice a bit too loud as she tried to hide her shyness. "Doctor's orders. For your recovery."
Mikoto looked at them—his three "employers," his three "saviors," and now, his three "confessors." He felt his watch vibrate against his wrist. 110 bpm. "Okay," Mikoto managed to say, his voice cracking slightly. "Let's go to the water."
As he climbed into the driver's seat, he caught a glimpse of Karen in the rearview mirror. She was looking out the window, the morning sun hitting her profile, making her look brighter, more alive than he had ever noticed before. The "Ghost" was starting to realize that the haunting was far from over—it was just getting started.
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