Chapter 51: Getting Stuff Done (2)

Thankfully, Iori had relaxed, and everything was flowing smoothly. Her son would be helping us later, so we'd have four people. I wasn't sure about his girlfriend, though. If she came, we'd have five, which would be a big help.

"You heard what she said, now drink this." I handed the water to Mahiru, and she slowly accepted it.

Three minutes passed before she finally realized Iori wasn't joking.

Kind of hurts that she didn't take my word for it… A little playful tear fell from my mental image. Yes, I knew no one could see it, I just wanted to be a little extra.

Mahiru lifted the bottle to her lips and took a cautious sip, then another. The next thing I knew, she was downing the rest in a few eager gulps, tilting her head back like she hadn't tasted water in years.

Watching her, I smiled.

"Phew~ water is so gooddddd."

"Pfft~ if we had a couch, you'd look like a white cat trying to sleep."

"S-Shut it!"

I held back the urge to keep flirting. I really wanted to. Like, REALLY wanted to. But instead, I told her to go help Iori with icing and decorating all the cupcakes, cakes, cheesecakes-you name it. If I listed everything, you'd probably question why one meeting needed so much, but I was sure there would be at least 200 people. That was my minimum estimate.

[Amane.]

Bah~

'F-Fuck!' I clutched my left hand, but the damage was already done. The system's sudden call had made me drop the metal mixing bowl right onto my fingers.

A sharp, pulsing pain exploded up my wrist, radiating like a shockwave. The impact sent a dull clang reverberating through the kitchen, followed by the muffled thud of ingredients spilling onto the counter. The weight of the metal pressed into my skin, the cool surface contrasting painfully with the hot, throbbing ache beneath.

It really fucking hurt. Not only was it heavy, but with all the crackers, chocolate, and peanut butter inside, the damn thing felt like a mini wrecking ball smashing into my bones. And the fact that it was actually metal? That just made it ten times worse—like getting your hand slammed in a car door but with extra weight to rub it in.

Luckily, no one noticed, so I played it off. I sucked in a slow breath, flexing my fingers to make sure they still worked.

'Yes, system?'

[My bad. I just wanted to let you know that your skills tab finished updating.]

'When did I-'

[You didn't, but I did. I just optimized it for you.]

'Next time, I'd appreciate a heads-up, but thanks anyway.'

[Noted, and you're welcome.]

Our conversation ended quickly, and I went back to mixing everything together. At first, it was tough—like wading through deep water—but after a while, the ingredients started coming together more easily. Now, it felt more like trudging through a shallow pool—inconvenient, but manageable.

"Looks fine to me." I set the bowl down and slid it toward Mahiru. Taking it, she iced up three 1/4 sheet cakes, three dozen cupcakes, and two 1/2 sheet cakes. A little hard to picture? Think of it like this: three flat dish rags, a tray of cupcakes, and a doormat, that was about the size we were working with. And now, we only had to do this for 100 more varieties.

My right forearm ached, muscles throbbing from overuse. I rolled my wrist, feeling the stiffness set in.

"It's going to be a long journey, my friend," I muttered under my breath before diving back into work.

Next up was a Chantilly set of desserts, which, thankfully, wasn't too hard to prep. The cream was light and airy, folding effortlessly into soft peaks that held their shape just long enough before melting away. Unlike the heavier buttercream we used earlier, this had a delicate, almost cloud-like texture with a subtle sweetness. The vanilla and almond notes blended smoothly, making it taste as fancy as it sounded.

Mahiru worked on the berry tarts, carefully spooning strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries onto crisp, golden pastry shells. The fruit glistened under the lights, the natural juices mixing with the cream for a glossy, picture-perfect look.

On my side, I stacked layers of flaky puff pastry and Chantilly cream for the mille-feuille, which I won't lie, I had no clue what the hell it was. I just followed the directions, pressing down just enough to keep it together without squeezing out the filling. A dusting of powdered sugar finished it off. With at least twenty more variations to go, I sighed, rolling my shoulders.

"Fancy desserts are way too much work," I mumbled under my breath, but I had to admit they looked damn delicious.

"What'd you say, Amane?" Mahiru looked over at me, tilting her cute head.

"These desserts are so much work but look so good."

"Don't eat it!"

"W-Why did you think I was going to eat them?!"

"You took Iori-san's water without hesitation—it wouldn't surprise me!"

"Wow!"

"What do you mean 'Wow?!'"

"I'm your boyfriend! Shouldn't you have some faith?!" Fake tears started forming in my eyes.

"Yeah yeah~ be a good boy and get back to work!"

I didn't know how to feel about her words, but I did get back to work. It wasn't because she told me to!

I feel like I just lost some man points… I blankly continued my job.

"Hahahaha~!" Iori's laughter rang out, making my defeat feel even worse.