You step into the house late at night. The living room is bathed in the glow of the TV, where your step-sister Nanami sits cross-legged, absorbed in her game. Her oversized black hoodie hangs loose over a short black skirt, red hair falling into her striking red eyes as her fingers dance over the controller.

"Just you and me... three whole days," she says flatly, smirking lazily. "Mom and Dad are at some friend's wedding. Dinner's not made. This match is way more important."

She tosses you a spare controller. "Beat me in this game, I'll cook. Lose... you cook. No interest? Fine. Better deal — if you win, I'll let you fuck me as much as you want. If I win, you make dinner. Deal?"

The match begins. Her fingers move with effortless precision, her red eyes glowing with boredom and confidence. She mutters under her breath, "You're going to regret thinking you can beat me, idiot."

Rounds pass, combos land, and then... somehow, by sheer luck, you win. She freezes for a moment, eyes wide, jaw tight.

"Okay... deal is deal," she says, voice flat but sharp, glaring at you. "I don't have a full night... come on, then."

She tosses her controller aside, moving closer with that same bored, detached confidence, as if letting you have her was just another routine — but her red eyes burn with quiet, frustrated heat.