Throughout the meal, Ryuga kept his eyes glued to Renji, quietly assessing him to see whether his suspicions were correct or not.
Perhaps noticing his stare, Renji offered a strained smile. "Ahm, is there something you want to ask? Sorry, I'm an introvert. I do want to cooperate with you two, but I can't quite gather the courage to speak."
"Yet, you still spoke first. Well, let's ignore that. How about you tell me about your friend group?"
Renji smiled again. His right hand reached for a cookie, and after taking a piece, he pulled it back.
"My friend group? Well, there isn't much to say about them. They're just a bunch of average guys. Oh, yeah, we play a battle royale video game a lot. Maybe that counts."
"Oo, is the game you're talking about 'Battlegrounds'?"
A spark flickered in Renji's eyes at the mention of the name. He nodded enthusiastically and leaned forward a little.
"Yes, that's exactly the one! We play the classic mode a lot. Rank pushing is our favorite part. You know that desolated map where there's barely any place to hide? That's our go-to map."
"Ah, yeah. Though me and my friends prefer the modern aesthetic one. Most of the time we just eyeball the scenery instead of fighting. It's a great eye candy."
From the side, Renji's parents and Naoya-san watched the two chatting with excitement. The parents looked delighted to see their son having fun, while Naoya-san seemed far more occupied with the cookies.
They were simply delicious; the rich chocolate flavor blended so beautifully with a sweet crunch that made each bite utterly irresistible. They were truly perfect in every way.
"Mr. and Mrs. Kurodo, may I ask where you bought these cookies? They're really, really good."
Mrs. Kurodo shook her head. "I'm afraid you can't buy those."
"Huh? But why? Are they imported or something?"
"No, no, nothing that grand. It's just because they aren't sold anywhere. I made them myself."
Naoya-san made an "O" face. Outwardly, he accepted defeat and didn't push further, neither to get the recipe nor to request Mrs. Kurodo to make more—It was clear from Mrs. Kurodo's remark that she wasn't going to sell them. But inwardly, though, a completely different plan was forming.
'Once Ryuga solves their issue, I'll bluntly ask for the recipe. I don't care if it takes me a hundred tries. I'll make cookies as good as this.'
With such grand conviction in his mind, his plan was set. But for now, he could only glance at Ryuga and hope he wasn't just wasting time.
"Also, do you know you can glitch yourself using the door by just jumping continuously? After that, you'll be thrown out of the map after that until you 'prone', you won't come back up. It's a great way to mess with people."
"Damn, teenagers these days sweat too much in games. Dude, I play those for fun. I'm not doing all that. Seriously, someone will rage-quit if you pull that off. Please!"
"Hahaha… that's the fun part! We love hearing the voice chat after doing it. They throw so many curses…"
"Damn…"
From the looks of it, Ryuga wasn't doing much. So Naoya-san's hopes of getting the cookie recipe were starting to crumble. The parents, however, didn't voice any concern. They were simply pleased to see their son laughing.
Soon after, the snacks were finished and their conversation came to an end. Mrs. Kurodo hastily gathered the plates and took them away.
When Ryuga glanced at the clock, it read 6:47. Quite a bit of time had passed since their arrival, and he had already completed his assessment of Renji.
He turned toward Mr. Kurodo and spoke politely. "Mr. Kurodo, may I have a private conversation with Renji? It's something related to his illness."
Mr. Kurodo nodded eagerly. "Yes, of course. Please do. Renji, take him to your room."
Renji gulped at the sudden shift in atmosphere. Just moments ago, they were having a casual, friendly chat, yet in an instant, everything turned serious.
Still, he couldn't reject his father's wish. So, he obliged and motioned for Ryuga to follow him. Though in his mind, a thought echoed.
'Illness… he isn't a real exorcist, is he? Haah, at the end of the day, he's just a con artist scamming Mom and Dad. Well, at least he's fun to talk to.'
Renji shook his head. There was no point in lamenting. His situation was… unique. He had already lost all hope. There was no "cure" to his "illness," because frankly, he didn't even have one.
Renji's room was upstairs, right beside the bathroom. His room was simple and clean, with a surprisingly large collection of books and a top-tier gaming PC with the latest generation components. Everything else, though, was plain.
The color, the aesthetic, the pictures on the wall, everything was basic and monotone.
Ryuga couldn't help but comment. "Your room is… special, I guess. Do you love the color grey that much?"
The entire room was almost bathed in it. Everything, absolutely everything, was the same color.
Grey.
The table, the bed, the closet, the walls, floor, ceiling, fan, window, PC, even the large collection of books. All of it was grey.
Renji glanced around the room, his eyes carrying a complex emotion Ryuga couldn't quite discern. Because that emotion didn't fit the situation at all.
The emotion was… pity.