The bell rang, mercifully ending the lecture. Chairs scraped, notebooks slammed shut, and the stampede for freedom began. Kae was out of her seat like a shot, practically dragging me into the hallway before I could even stand.
"Souta—listen, I have considered it. Call this off please."
I stifled a yawn, letting her tug at my sleeve like a desperate lawyer clinging to a hopeless case.
"Sorry, Kae. The train's already left the station. All we can do now is watch it derail spectacularly."
She stopped, glaring. "You're enjoying this."
I grinned, unrepentant. "Immeasurably."
By the time we reached the gates, her patience was a thin thread. And there he was—Ryu—leaning against the iron bars like he'd been sculpted there, blazer undone, tie loose, sunlight bouncing off his smug grin.
"Kae," he called smoothly, straightening like some shoujo manga lead. "I've been waiting."
Her shoulders slumped in dread. She froze like she'd just been handed a death sentence. I almost clapped at the performance.
Before she could stammer out an excuse, he hooked an arm toward the street, already waving down a taxi like some kind of prince on parade. Kae shot me a panicked look.
I just grinned and lifted my hands in mock surrender. "Hey, remember… I'm just here for the popcorn."
She mouthed something that seemed a lot like I hate you, before being gently but firmly escorted into the cab. Naturally, I followed, because why miss the opening act?
Café Amour lived up to its name if your idea of romance included heart-shaped chairs, chandeliers dripping with fake crystal, and waitresses in maid outfits yelling "Welcome, Master!" every time someone came in.
Ryu strutted in like he owned the place. Kae slunk behind him, shoulders stiff, every eye in the café locking onto the "celebrity" pair. I picked a table by the window, strategically close enough to overhear every disaster but far enough that Ryu couldn't kick me out without looking like a villain.
"Order whatever you like," he announced with a flourish, sliding the menu across to her. "Money is no obstacle when it comes to love."
Kae's eyebrow twitched. She skimmed the menu without speaking, like she was calculating how much poison one parfait could hide.
Ryu leaned forward, elbows on the table, smile dialed up to blinding. "Tell me, Kae, what do you look for in a man? Surely, someone brave… reliable… perhaps, someone like me?"
I bit my tongue so hard to keep from laughing I nearly tasted blood.
Kae shut the menu with a snap. "Someone quiet," she said flatly.
That knocked the wind out of him for a full three seconds. Then, as if refusing defeat, he puffed up his chest. "Quiet? I can be quiet."
The next five minutes were the loudest and most awkward silence I'd ever witnessed. Ryu sat there nodding furiously every time she shifted, as though silence was a martial art he could master by sheer force of will.
The parfaits arrived—tall glasses stacked with fruit, cream, and a level of sugar that could fuel a small army. Kae picked at hers, clearly wishing it would morph into an escape route. Ryu, on the other hand, seized the moment.
He raised his spoon dramatically. "Kae-chan, allow me to feed you."
Before she could react, he scooped up a monstrous glob of cream and fruit and launched it straight toward her mouth. Kae jerked aside at the last second as strawberry cream exploded across his pristine white shirt.
The café went dead silent. Even the waitresses stopped chanting.
I leaned back, hands behind my head, grinning like a man at a fireworks festival. "Beautiful. Just beautiful."
Ryu sat frozen, spoon in hand, cream dripping down his collar. Kae dabbed her lips with a napkin, expression unreadable.
Then she stood. "Thanks for the parfait," she said coolly, dropping her spoon back into the glass. "Next time, try eating your own food first."
And with that, she walked out, leaving Ryu paralyzed in sugary defeat.
Pushing my chair back, I tossed a few coins onto my still-warm coffee. On my way out, I clapped his shoulder.
"Don't worry, Romeo—There is plenty of room for improvement."
He didn't answer. His soul had left his body somewhere between "Kae-chan" and her cold exit line.
Behind me, in the quiet corner of the café, The Unknown materialized just enough to raise a porcelain cup to its lips. It sipped, savoring the bitterness like a wine critic at a funeral. Its shadowed grin widened.
"Exquisite," it purred, voice curling like smoke. "Human misery pairs so well with roasted beans."
I sighed, shoving my hands in my pockets. "You're supposed to be some ancient horror, not a caffeine snob."
It chuckled. "Today, I am both."
Whistling, I followed after Kae, grinning like I'd just watched the opening act of a tragic comedy. This day was only getting better.
The arcade was already alive with neon blinks and digital screams when Kenta swaggered in like he owned the place. He wore his jacket half-zipped, sunglasses indoors, and the smirk of a man who thought Pac-Man was a mating ritual.
"Kae," he said, sweeping a hand toward the glowing machines. "This is my kingdom. Today, you'll see what a real man can do."
Kae pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh no. Please don't tell me you practiced pick-up lines on the claw machine."
Souta leaned against a soda dispenser, sipping his drink. Beside him, The Unknown swirled a latte in its clawlike hand, steam coiling unnaturally. "The arrogance of youth," it mused, "always overestimating their bonus lives."
Kenta slid a stack of tokens into the Pac-Man cabinet, beckoning Kae closer. "Best score wins. If you beat me, I'll…" His smirk widened. "No—when I beat you, you'll have to admit I'm the man of your dreams."
Kae crossed her arms. "Fine. And when I win, you shut up for the rest of the day."
The machines lit up, the game began.
Two minutes later, Kenta's Pac-Man was reduced to digital roadkill, ghosts cornering him like unpaid debt collectors. Kae, meanwhile, was a blur of precision. She didn't just play—she dominated, weaving through the maze with surgical cruelty. The scoreboard rocketed, and a small crowd gathered, whispering.
Kenta's jaw tightened. "Wait, wait—rematch. That was a warm-up!"
Kae leaned back, fingers flying with mechanical grace. "Sure, Let's call this your funeral service."
By the third round, he was sweating bullets. By the fifth, he looked like he'd aged twenty years.
Souta chuckled, watching him crumble. "Beautiful, like watching a lion get mauled by a housecat."
The Unknown sipped again, eyes glinting. "Mmm… salted ego. Pairs well with espresso."
When the game finally ended, Kae stepped away without even looking at him. "Thanks for the tokens."
Kenta collapsed against the machine, staring at the "GAME OVER" screen flashing mercilessly. His sunglasses had slid down his nose, revealing eyes full of existential dread.
I clapped him on the shoulder on my way out. "Don't worry, Kenta. You're still number two—in a two-player game."
The Unknown let out a low, delighted laugh as we followed Kae to her next battlefield.