Chapter 24 - Breakfast

The door clicked shut behind Raito as he stepped into the quiet villa, arms weighed down with grocery bags. He set them down on the kitchen counter with a sigh and glanced at the clock—9:30 AM.

Too early to be dealing with annoying mercenaries. Too late to crawl back into bed.

He rolled his shoulders, walked down the hall to his room, and quickly changed into a plain black T-shirt and loose sweatpants. On his way back, he paused at the guest room. Still quiet.

He knocked, then again, louder. "Raika. Wake up. Get the baby up too."

A groggy voice called from behind the door, muffled by blankets. "Wha…? What time is it?"

"Almost ten."

"Go away… I'm sleeping for two more hours…"

Raito stared at the door for a beat, debating whether to argue. He sighed and walked away, muttering under his breath, "Unbelievable."

Back in the kitchen, he dug through the bags and pulled out rice, vegetables, miso, and eggs. His fridge finally looked like it belonged to someone who ate real food. He reached for the simple black apron hanging near the stove and tied it around his waist, pulling his hair back into a loose tie to keep it out of the way.

With practiced motions, he started the rice and chopped vegetables with a chef's calm precision. He didn't exactly enjoy cooking—but after years of living alone, it had become second nature.

And then—right on cue—Kurai's voice echoed in his mind.

Oh, look at you. Apron on, hair tied back. You're this close to becoming someone's housewife.

Kurai's voice was as smug as ever.

"Don't start," he muttered.

But I must. You're being so cute. Cooking breakfast after fending off thugs. And your girlfriend didn't even give you a thank-you kiss. Tragic.

"Real funny" Raito replied flatly, cracking an egg over the pan. "She's a cop. I only helped because I had to."

Mmm-hmm. And that sweet little speech about her being 'fine just the way she is'—purely professional?

He scowled slightly. "I said what I meant. I don't have time for relationships."

Right, right. Too busy selling insurance during street fights. You should add that to your resume.

"I was buying time," he muttered, stirring the miso soup. "Those men were weak anyway. No training. No strategy. Like amateurs playing soldier."

Then why were you dodging like a scared civilian?

"Because I am a civilian" he said dryly.

The bathroom door creaked open down the hall. Footsteps—bare feet on cool tile—echoed softly. Raito didn't turn around. He was plating the eggs and rice with steady hands when Raika walked in, rubbing her eyes with one hand and her hair still damp from the shower.

She blinked at him once, and then again, slower.

"…Are you wearing an apron?"

Raito, still focused on presentation, didn't look up. "I'm cooking."

Raika stared for a second longer, then raised a brow. "Who were you talking to just now?"

"...No one," he said flatly, sliding a plate onto the table.

Raika gave him a side glance, suspicious but too tired to press further.

"Whatever," she mumbled. "Smells good, though."

He nodded once. "Eat before it gets cold."