Four Of A Kind

Chapter 104: [3.6] The Kuudere’s Laughter is a Critical Hit (It Was Super Effective!)

Answers.

I wanted to know which sister had decided to complicate my already complicated life with a single impulsive kiss. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know what it meant and what was expected of me now. But I couldn’t say any of that.

“Ten thousand dollars a month, a car that doesn’t break down, and a future for my sister,” I said instead. “That’s what I want.”

“How pragmatic.” She reached over and took my copy of the book, her fingers brushing against mine. “Yet you bought a brand new copy of a book you’ve already read, simply because I asked you to bring it.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Sabrina flipped through the pages. “And it’s the same translation as the one in the Valentine library. You could have told me you didn’t have it with you, and we could have discussed the plot from memory. Yet you went out of your way to purchase it.”

“I keep my commitments.”

“Hmm.” She handed the book back. “A nineteen dollar commitment. That’s what, forty minutes of work at your current salary?”

“Something like that.”

“And do you keep all your commitments so diligently?”

“I try to.”

She stared at me with those unnervingly perceptive eyes. “Interesting. So if someone were to, say, ask something of you that went beyond your contractual duties, something personal, would you refuse out of pragmatism or comply out of commitment?”

This had to be about the kiss. Right?

“Like I said about revenge, that would depend on the request.”

“Of course it would.” She closed her book and set it aside. “Everything depends, doesn’t it? Every interaction, every decision, every consequence. It’s all conditional.”

“Most things are.”

“Most,” she agreed. “Not all. Some things are absolute. Death. Taxes.” Her lips quirked in a half-smile. “The Valentine family drama.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “That’s definitely absolute.”

She leaned her head against my shoulder. “Did you enjoy your weekend with us?” she asked, her voice softer now.

“It was… interesting.”

“I imagine so.” I felt rather than saw her smile. “Four different agendas, four different personalities, one unfortunate assistant caught in the middle.”

“You make it sound like I was a prisoner of war.”

“Weren’t you? We locked you in a house with my mother and my sisters for forty-eight hours.”

I considered this. “When you put it that way, I probably deserve hazard pay.”

Sabrina laughed, a sound so unexpected that I turned to look at her in surprise. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and for a moment, she looked younger, lighter, more like Harlow than the mysterious, unreadable Valentine sister she usually presented herself as.

“Oh, Isaiah,” she said, her laughter fading but the warmth in her voice remaining. “You are a refreshing change from our usual staff.”

“Because I survived your mother’s dinner interrogation?”

“Because you don’t seem to realize how strange our lives are. You just… adapt. It’s a rare quality.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. I’d been adapting my entire life—to my absent parents, to poverty, to responsibility beyond my years. The Valentine household was just one more adaptation in a long line of them.

“It’s just a job,” I said finally.

“Is it?” She lifted her head from my shoulder, those purple eyes locking onto mine. “Just a job?”

The question hung between us, loaded with implications I wasn’t ready to address.

“What else would it be?” I countered.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” She leaned closer, her face now inches from mine. “What exactly did we become to you this weekend, Isaiah Angelo?”

This was it—this had to be it. She was practically inviting me to bring up the kiss. All I had to do was ask. Are you the one who kissed me last night? Just seven simple words.

But what if she wasn’t? What if I was reading this all wrong, and she was talking about something completely different? The fallout would be catastrophic.

“You became my employers,” I said carefully. “All of you.”

“I see.” She leaned back slightly, creating an inch of space between us. “Just employers.”

“What else would you be?”

“What else indeed.” She reached for her book again. “So tell me more about your interpretation of Dantès’ motivations. I find your perspective… illuminating.”

And just like that, the moment was gone. If there had even been a moment at all.

For the next forty-five minutes, we discussed the book. Sabrina remained pressed against my side, occasionally turning to look at me with those unreadable purple eyes, but never once did she give me any clear indication of whether she was the sister from the steps.

When the bell rang signaling the end of the period, she closed her book with a decisive snap.

“This was enlightening,” she said. “We should do it again.”

“Sure,” I agreed, wondering if I’d just imagined the entire subtext of our conversation.

She stood up gracefully, smoothing her skirt. “Oh, and Isaiah?”

“Yes?”

“The ramen tonight. Nine o’clock. Don’t forget the extra packet.” She tilted her head slightly. “After all, you keep your commitments so diligently.”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me sitting on the beanbag with a nineteen-dollar book and exactly zero answers.

Four sisters, I thought wearily. Four identical, infuriating, complicated sisters, each one hiding behind her own particular brand of inscrutability. And I was caught in the middle of whatever game they were playing, with no rulebook and no way to tell if I was winning or losing.

Actually, no. I definitely wasn’t winning. That much was clear.

I gathered my things and headed for the door, already dreading what awaited me at the Valentine mansion tonight. More cryptic conversations. More lingering touches. More opportunities to try and decipher which sister had decided that kissing the help was a good idea.

As I stepped into the hallway, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Cassidy:

Don’t forget tutoring at 6. Bring more of those graph paper sheets.