A few minutes later, I stepped into the kitchen, my shirt clinging to with sweat. Not exactly the most glamorous arrival for a "chef," but at least I was on ti.
The lid of the casserole lifted with a soft hiss, releasing a cloud of steam so fragrant that I almost forgot I was the one who made it. Clear broth, rich aroma, the perfect amount of heat—if I didn't know better, I'd swear a seasoned chef had been tending this pot instead of a college guy.
A sprinkle of salt, a careful stir, and I dipped the spoon in.
Mm~… ahh, perfect. I could feel a smug smile creeping onto my face. Gotta watch that—smugness doesn't pair well with soup.
I switched off the stove to let the soup rest and began the next act: mutton stir-fry.
The chopped scallions sizzled instantly in the oil, their aroma blooming into the air like a signal flare for hungry people. The marinated lamb followed with a satisfying hiss. I cranked the heat up to the maximum, seasoning lightly, letting the pan's fury do the work. A few quick flicks of the wrist, and the mutton glead with locked-in juices. Another plate, ready for the table.
Right on cue, the sound of bare feet patting softly against the floor approached.
"It slls so good, Sousuke."
I turned, and nearly lost my grip.
Matsumoto Tomoko, freshly out of the shower, stood there towel-drying her long black hair. The steam from the kitchen mingled with the faint perfu of her shampoo. A bath towel was wrapped around her, but… well, her figure didn't seem overly concerned about staying within its borders. If she tugged it up, the hem inched higher; if she tugged it down, the top strained in protest. A dangerous equilibrium.
"You should take a shower too, Sousuke."
The steam in the room made her cheeks a delicate rose.
"…Right. Okay, Tomoko."
Stepping into her bathroom was strange. It had the sa basic layout as mine, but where mine was spartan, hers was… an arsenal. Bath towels in soft pastels, loofahs shaped like flowers, bottles and jars in every size, their labels promising mysteries I couldn't pronounce.
No wonder she always seed so effortlessly radiant.
The warm water washed away my sweat—and the faint traces of "other unknown substances" from earlier. I let the heat seep into , muscles unclenching, mind relaxing.
"Ohh… that's… really good…"
By the ti I stepped out, I felt like a new man.
Tomoko had already set the two dishes I'd made on the table. While I was in the shower, she'd added a fluffy tamagoyaki and a crisp vegetable salad—gold and green brightening the table like a magazine spread. She'd tossed her damp nightgown into the laundry and changed into a loose white tank top and black shorts, hair nearly dry, framing her face in a way that carried a wild charm.
I ladled soup into two bowls, set the chopsticks, and stepped back to admire my handiwork.
"Let's eat, Tomoko. Try what I cooked today."
"Oh? Sousuke, you're stealing my lines now? What a sweet man." She smiled warmly.
She clasped her hands together. "Itadakimasu!"
The first sip made her eyes widen. "Wow… the light flavor, the subtle sweetness… this is delicious. I didn't expect you to be so talented your first ti making it."
I grinned. "Drink more. It's nourishing. You… burned a lot of energy just now."
Her hand rose to her lips, fingertips brushing them lightly. That subtle gesture, paired with her faint blush, hit harder than the steam in the room.
"You're teasing again, Sousuke…"
I chuckled. "Try the mutton." I slipped a few tender pieces into her bowl. "Careful, it's hot."
She blew on it delicately before tasting it. Her snow-white neck gave the slightest tremor. "Mmm… so tender… I've never been able to enjoy mutton because of the sll. How did you—?"
"High heat," I said. "Sear it fast. It burns away the strong scent and traps the juices inside."
"I see… I'll have to rember that," she said softly, looking at in a way that made unsure whether she was talking about cooking.
We ate, talking lightly about food and small things, until the plates were empty.
"Phew… I ate so much more than usual," she said, stroking her belly with mock despair. "I'll gain weight at this rate."
"It's fine," I said, my gaze wandering deliberately to her curves. "Your body seems smart enough to store it in all the right places."
After tidying up, we drifted to the sofa, leaning into its cushions.
"I never thought a college student could be so skilled… handso, tall, caring, and…" She glanced toward the bedroom and stopped herself.
"And?" I prompted.
"Ahem. Nothing… Just that you're a perfect man, Sousuke-kun."
She sighed and said, "If my daughter could find soone like you, I'd wake up laughing every night."
That caught my attention. I'd heard she had a daughter, but she rarely ntioned her.
"What's her major?" I asked.
"Her na's Sachiko. She's beautiful, smart—always had top grades. She's studying literature, wants to be a writer."
Her voice softened. "It's always been just the two of us. She's a good girl. Never gave trouble. We're… very close."
Her eyes turned distant for a mont. "When she left for college, the house felt so empty. I lived every day numbly, going through the motions. Until you ca."
Her gaze t mine, and the warmth there was almost tangible. "You filled the void in my heart, Sousuke."
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