Or was it that the room's owner had already lost all privacy in front of the other person?
If she thought about it from that angle, then Yukino had made progress. Kamuro really did have something on Hachiman, and she truly had no privacy left around him.
After all, Hachiman had learned about the kleptomania she had never let her classmates know about—a weakness that could potentially bring danger to Class A.
However, Hachiman did not think Yukino was considering this because she was sighing over it or trying to grow from it.
She had probably just picked a topic at random. He was certain because he had already noticed her gaze swiftly sweeping across Kamuro's room.
Everyone's residences had the same layout: a single room that was neither too large nor too small. There were not many places where a thirteen-pound cat could be hidden.
The most obvious place was the bed.
Cats loved burrowing into human beds. Some even liked running to their owner's bedside at five in the morning and meowing to provide wake-up service.
But—
Yukino's gaze fell beside Kamuro's bed, where the bedding was folded neatly.
There was no sign of a cat being there.
At least, a cat that large could not be hidden away.
"Although Kamuro's cat is rather large, we don't necessarily have to consider its weight," Hachiman said. "So it doesn't have to be on the bed."
"Then where is it—" Yukino seemed somewhat confused.
Then she saw Hachiman walking toward the balcony.
Against the inner wall of the balcony stood one of those cat trees made for cats to rest on.
Sure enough.
They found a cat sleeping soundly on the semicircular perch.
Hachiman raised a hand and stroked the cat's head.
"Meow?"
The cat noticed someone had arrived and