They arrived at Room 420. Tokai Teio locked the door from the inside.

That single action made Mizuno's memories flash back to the warehouse incident—his PTSD nearly triggered. For a moment, he thought Teio was about to lock him up in a sealed space and execute him on the spot.

But Teio explained: locking the door was just her habit. Once the door was locked, they were cut off from the outside world. At that point, they could do whatever they wanted without worrying about being disturbed. That sense of closed-off space made her feel secure, so she enjoyed it.

Hearing this explanation only made Mizuno more anxious.

Because wasn't this exactly the precursor to locking someone in the Monarch's Basement?!

Cutting off the outside world… doing whatever she wanted… and she said this wasn't the Basement?!

But Mizuno knew that Teio's real intent right now wasn't sinister. She genuinely just felt more at ease with the door locked. He was the one overthinking it.

So he accepted Teio locking the door, not sneaking out while she and Rudolf weren't watching.

Still, Mizuno chose to sit near the door—so that if things turned strange, he could escape quickly.

Of course, realistically, as a human, even if the door was within arm's reach, an Uma Musume could grab him before he touched the handle. But sitting near the door still gave him some comfort. At least there was a sliver of hope.

And then, it was time for the morning's most important activity.

Singing.

Teio sang the trending pop songs with bright energy, while Symboli Rudolf preferred gentle old songs. Paired with her mature, dignified appearance, she was like a middle-aged woman.

But whatever the style, when either finished, the system's score never dipped below ninety-five, and averaged ninety-nine.

Not only could they sing, they could dance flawlessly.

Rudolf had experience: since she practically always won her races, she'd stood countless times on the Winner's Stage, accustomed to perfect performance before tens of thousands. Even one Uma could overwhelm the entire venue with her presence—let alone now, when her only audience was Teio and Mizuno.

Teio had pure talent. The move "Teio Step" wasn't for nothing. Her light, lively footwork rivaled a professional dancer's. Watching her was pure joy.

Mizuno's level compared to theirs was… several dimensions lower.

He had no technique, no emotion. His pitch stayed flat—neither high nor low—sometimes even off-beat. Like some petty anti-fan doing a clumsy parody of an idol.

So when he finished a song, the system spat out fifty points.

Only half marks. Not even a passing grade.

But to Mizuno, it was perfect.

With his actual skill, he'd never drop so low. He couldn't match Teio or Rudolf, but at minimum, he could've hit eighty.

He chose to sing badly.

If he was bad—but not too bad—no one would say, "That was great! Sing another!" And he could excuse himself with, "I don't sing well, so I'd rather not."

It showed his flaws, made him seem less exceptional, and limited interaction. Perfect.

But even if he refused to sing along with them, he didn't spoil the mood by burying himself in his phone. Instead, he sat quietly, listened attentively, and applauded sincerely.

Though he did find it odd that Teio seemed even happier, singing harder, the more he clapped. He didn't think too much of it. He just acted as a merciless applause machine.

Morning joy passed quickly. Soon it was noon.

The booking expired right on time. A knock at the door.

Mizuno got up and opened it—standing there was Gold Ship.

"Sir, your singing time is up," she reminded him with a smile.

"Got it." Mizuno nodded, then turned to the two Uma Musume.

"President Rudolf, Teio—it's time. Let's go."

"Eh—already?" Teio pouted, reluctant. She clearly wanted more, but since the booking was over, they couldn't stay. Besides, her stomach was growling. It really was time to leave.

So Teio gathered her things and, cheerful again, hooked her arms through Rudolf's and Mizuno's as they left.

Gold Ship watched them exit the karaoke shop, then dashed back to the employee lounge to change, and slipped out to follow them.

Five minutes later, they entered a nearby restaurant for lunch.

Inside, the music playing was "Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence." Elegant, perfectly suited as dining background music. Its cool yet soothing rhythm made food feel fresher, more delicious. No wonder it was the top choice for restaurant playlists.

As Mizuno stepped in, he happened to notice a young trainer at another table, celebrating his Uma's birthday.

The trainer wore a party hat, clapping as he sang: "Happy birthday to you~"

"Hehe, thank you so much~" The young Uma Musume, also in a party hat, beamed happily.

"Of course, I prepared a gift too," the trainer said.

"Oh, wonderful! What is it?"

"Hehehe… the gift is…" The trainer drew it out, then suddenly pointed at himself.

"It's me!"

The Uma Musume froze, then asked eagerly, "Eh…? Really?"

"Haha, just kidding. I prepared a real gift. I think I put it… here, let me check." The trainer laughed it off, rummaging through his backpack.

But after hearing "the gift is me," the Uma Musume grew more and more agitated, pressing, "It's true… right…"

The trainer turned back, gift in hand—only to see his Uma's eyes slightly hollow. His heart gave a sudden jolt.

"Eh? What's wrong? You look… kind of scary…"

"…" She stayed silent for a while, then shook her head.

"Sorry, Trainer. I was too happy, I didn't know what expression to make. I must've scared you. I really like the gift you gave me~" She smiled warmly.

"Ah, I see." The trainer sighed in relief.

So that was it. She was just too happy to know how to react.

The older trainers at the Academy were always warning him: Never joke around carelessly with your Uma. It could lead to terrifying consequences.

But look! Nothing scary at all. In fact, how could such pure, sweet Uma Musume get angry over one little joke?

The veterans were just overthinking things.

"You old-timers are senile," the young trainer chuckled confidently.

At that moment, the Uma Musume fixed her gaze on him.

"Trainer… may I unwrap my gift when we get back?"

The trainer laughed:

"Of course you can. It's yours—unwrap it however you like. No need to ask me."

Her lips curled upward.

"Fufu. With your permission… that's enough."

…

"Dead man walking," Mizuno muttered, covering his eyes. He couldn't bear to watch.

That trainer was going to be unwrapped tonight.

"Mizuno…" Teio tugged at his sleeve, her eyes brimming with expectation.

"Mizuno, my birthday's on April 20th."

Mizuno: "…"

What now—you want me to give myself as your gift too?!