It Seems Like a Girl I Don’t Know Is Doing Housework at My Place. But She’s Cute, So I’m Watching Her.

The scary story I shared for fun ended up causing more fear than expected, leading to a thorough scolding from my friends.

“Hmm…”

As a lazy guy who hates housework, I honestly couldn’t help but rely on a stalker who’s effectively acting as a free housekeeper. So, I set up several hidden cameras to identify the stalker and gather evidence just in case something bad happened. Plus, I was genuinely curious about who would stalk someone like me.

“I wonder what kind of person they are.”

I started reviewing the footage. The stalker appeared on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, likely timing their visits based on my university schedule when I’d be out for a long time.

By fast-forwarding through the likely times, I soon found something.

“Bingo.”

I stopped the fast-forward. The door handle moved, and the door opened.

“Looks like they’re using the key I lost…”

Since there was no jiggling of the handle, it was clear they were using my lost key. My apartment is on a busy street, so any attempt at forced entry would have been reported immediately. This meant the stalker was entering through legitimate means, as I had suspected.

“And this is the stalker…”

I focused on the footage again. The camera angle wasn’t perfect for facial recognition, but from the clothing and posture, I could tell it was a young woman.

“…Phew.”

Relieved, I sighed. The worst-case scenario—being stalked by a man or an older woman—hadn’t come true. That would have been much scarier. Even though having a criminal in my house is unsettling, it’s less intimidating than being stalked by someone outside my comfort zone or someone I found unappealing.

If the stalker was a peer and potentially attractive, I could think of her as a creepy housekeeper. If not, I’d have rejected her immediately. In this case, she fell within my tolerable range. In fact, if she turned out to be harmless, I’d let her continue playing housekeeper.

“She’s washing the dishes so naturally…”

I was unsure whether to even call her a stalker. She wasn’t snooping around, just doing household chores. She washed the dishes, cleaned the room, and even took out the trash without any suspicious behavior. She was even humming a little tune.

“She’s totally like a house fairy.”

It was baffling to see someone enjoying housework so much. For someone who avoids housework until absolutely necessary, her behavior was incomprehensible. Without her, my place would regularly teeter on the edge of becoming a trash heap.

It’s not that I’m incapable of housework—quite the opposite. I’m confident I’m better at it than the average man. But it’s just too bothersome. Despite knowing it’s more efficient to do tasks as they arise, my laziness always wins out.

And that’s why I let this “house fairy” go unchecked. The benefits of having a free housekeeper outweigh the disadvantages, at least for now.

“Wait, did she just put my shirt in her bag? A stalker is a stalker, after all.”

The woman in the footage was in the middle of doing laundry and slipped one of my shirts—probably my underwear—into her bag.

I expected this to some extent. She wasn’t just doing chores; she was also taking something for herself. That’s just what criminals do, after all. She was true to her desires.

So, I had to call it a red flag. Even if it’s just one shirt, it’s a confirmed loss.

“…Huh? Is that a new shirt?”

She pulled out a new shirt from her bag, likely to replace the one she took. After seeing her put the new one in the washing machine, I reconsidered.

“Well, I guess that’s fine.”

If she was replacing my old shirt with a new one, it’s no big deal. I retracted my red flag. I wasn’t thrilled about it, but the balance between having a free housekeeper and losing a shirt seemed acceptable. As long as there were no real losses, I’d let it slide.

“She did a good job swapping out my shirts, too.”

Though it’s somewhat concerning that I didn’t notice, I had to admit that she handled it well. I’d been wearing clean, crisp shirts lately without realizing why.

Even knowing I had a stalker, I was oblivious. I didn’t even connect the dots. This was my relaxed nature showing through.

“Hmm…”

Still, maybe it was time to stop being so nonchalant. Now that I’d seen the footage, I couldn’t ignore certain facts.

Who is she?

“Breaking into my house is bad enough, but she’s a pretty determined stalker… I have no idea who it could be.”

I’m not popular, and I have very few friends. At university, I only interact with a handful of people. I exchange greetings with a few others, but that’s it.

At work, I have a few colleagues I get along with, but our relationships are limited to work hours.

On my days off, I stay home or go out alone. Sometimes friends invite me out, but not often.

It’s not that I dislike socializing; I just don’t get interested in others. I can’t remember faces or names well and forget them quickly even if I do. I also don’t mind being alone, so I don’t make an effort to form new relationships. As a result, my social circle doesn’t expand.

That’s why it’s hard to imagine someone stalking me. I hardly interact with people privately, let alone attract someone’s interest.

“Seriously, who could it be?”

All my close friends are guys. I don’t have any substantial relationships with others at university.

Could it be someone from the café where I work? I do interact with many customers there, so it’s possible one of them noticed me.

“But our café doesn’t get many new customers…”

What stood out was the stalker’s appearance. Did any of our customers look like her? If she locked onto me as a target, there must be a reason, and she’d likely visit the café often enough for that reason to arise. Love at first sight isn’t impossible, but it’s unlikely.

Even if I don’t usually remember customers’ faces, I remember the regulars who come during my shifts. Among them, there’s no one who resembles the stalker.

Well, the footage was a bit blurry, and her features weren’t clearly visible, so I can’t be sure.

“Maybe if she turned on the lights, I’d have a clearer view.”

Since she didn’t turn on any lights, preferring to work by the light from the windows, the footage was dim. The cheap camera I used didn’t help either.

From what I could see, she had a calm demeanor. She didn’t give off the vibe of a criminal. She seemed almost domestic.

Yet, I couldn’t place her in my memory.

“Still, who could she be…”

In the end, I couldn’t narrow down any candidates, no matter how much I thought about it that day.