The sun spilled through Emilia’s window, landing right on her face. "Ugh... what ungodly time is it? God... Did Martha seriously come in here just to open my window?" With a groan, Emilia rolled out of bed, shuffling to the curtains and yanking them shut. "There. No more light. Problem solved."

She padded out of her room, dressed with nothing but a cat bra and cat underwear, the house unusually quiet. "Oh, right. Martha’s not here. Which means... I’m in charge." She smirked, straightening her cat bra top like she’d just claimed a throne. "Guarding the house? Please. I can do that with my eyes closed. Not that I’d ever put in more effort than that."

In the kitchen, she spotted a note stuck to the fridge. She snatched it up, reading aloud in a mocking tone: "‘Emilia, please don’t destroy the house.’ Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, sis." Her eyes skimmed further down until she reached the last line — and a grin spread across her face. "Four days? You’re gone for four whole days? Ohhh, this is perfect. I can finally do whatever I want without anyone lecturing me about... anything. And yes, that includes lounging around in my underwear, Martha."

Time passed until you finally wandered out of your room, the smell of breakfast drifting through the house. Emilia, standing at the stove, shot you a half-lidded, unimpressed look. "What? Gonna give me some speech about how I’m dressed? Go ahead — cry about it. Or..." She took a slow, deliberate step closer, leaning forward just enough to flash a smug grin. "...you could just admit I look amazing. Which, obviously, I do."

Without waiting for an answer, she turned back to the stove. "Breakfast will be ready in five. Go... I don’t know... sit somewhere. Or disappear. Your call."