Chapter 13. Utaha Gets Flustered—Now It’s Rize’s Turn to Probe

Kasumigaoka Utaha got mentally nuked in one hit.

Even her manuscript draft on her laptop got typoed mid-sentence—she quickly scrambled to delete it.

Under the table, her black-stockinged toes curled and fidgeted.

Once she recovered her composure, she turned her head away and let out a little hmph.

"So many beautiful women visiting your diner… Hayashi-kun must be thrilled."

Hayashi looked around and said honestly, "You're right. I really am."

"…"

Utaha glared.

Then kicked him under the table with her bare foot.

Unfortunately, it felt more like a tickle to Hayashi.

He chuckled. "Keep kicking and I might grab that foot. And once it's in my hand… well, I'll decide what to do with it then."

"!" Utaha froze.

She quickly withdrew her foot and muttered, "Hentai~"

Meanwhile—

Rize continued sipping her water, stealing glances at Hayashi, lost in thought.

Behind her, Makima was also deep in thought.

And in the center of it all, the "main character" was chatting away.

Hayashi took another sip of coffee and asked casually, "How's your novel going?"

Utaha paused again.

Then ran her fingers through her bangs and sighed.

"I've got a bit of a feel for it, but I'm not sure how it'll turn out. Once I have a draft, will you take a look, Hayashi-kun?"

"Sure." He nodded.

If you asked him to write a story? Maybe he'd be mediocre.

But if you asked him to review one? His eye for storytelling was surprisingly sharp.

If he said it sucked, it probably did. If he said it was good, odds were, it really was.

Still, Utaha looked a bit troubled.

She glanced at Hayashi, then suddenly softened her voice into something sweet and seductive.

"Hayashi-kun, if I'm writing a romance novel… do you think I should try falling in love first?"

"…Huh?" Hayashi blinked. "Why would you say that?"

"Because I don't have any material." Utaha pouted, tapping her lips. "So I was thinking maybe I should try dating someone… y'know, just for research."

She said it while looking straight at him.

Hayashi paused, stifling a laugh.

He shook his head. "Honestly, I think it's better not to date."

"Eh!?" Utaha suddenly looked like she'd taken emotional damage. "Why not!?"

For a moment, she even started questioning her own charm.

Was she not attractive? Were her black stockings not seductive enough? Was she unlikable?!

But the next moment, Hayashi couldn't hold back his laughter and said,

"Because only people who've never been in love can write about the sweet, dreamy version of it."

"If you actually fall in love, all you'll see is the sour, stinky reality—petty arguments, groceries, chores... all the mundane stuff. Completely different from the fantasy."

"Your writing style and narrative tone would change completely. Even your perspective would shift."

"It's a big risk. That's why I don't recommend it."

Kasumigaoka Utaha's expression twisted slightly.

At least she was relieved to know she still had charm.

The reason Hayashi said not to date was simply a suggestion for her writing.

What broke her a little inside was realizing that Hayashi had figured out—from her writing—that she'd never actually been in love. That's why she could write something like Love Metronome, a pure fantasy.

For a brief moment, Utaha wanted to dig a hole and hide in it.

Her face flushed red, and with a loud bang, she stood up and drew everyone's attention in the shop.

"C-Check, please!"

In a flustered rush, Utaha hurriedly put on her shoes, grabbed her notebook, and stormed out.

Good thing she paid in advance yesterday.

She could just leave without delay.

Hayashi rubbed his face and chased after her with a suppressed chuckle.

Watching her figure retreat, he waved and called out, "Safe travels."

"Not having dated is no big deal. Just listen to me ramble in here more often—you'll get it eventually."

Utaha nearly tripped on the spot.

Teeth clenched, she snapped back, "Like hell I'm coming back!"

"Hahaha~" Hayashi laughed heartily.

When he returned to the shop—

Makima walked over and said softly, "I'd like to pay."

"Sure." Hayashi accepted the payment.

Before leaving, Makima turned to glance at him one more time.

"I'll be back. I hope to see you again."

"Er... Then, I'll look forward to your next visit." Hayashi had no reason to refuse a customer.

Makima left with Aki and Power.

Before leaving, Power clung to the door and waved at Hayashi with a big grin.

"I'm Power, got it!? I'll be back, so you better make more good food!"

Hayashi nodded. "Don't worry. It's always delicious."

"Great! Then I'm off!"

Hayashi didn't mind Power at all.

Even though she was a devil, good intentions deserved good returns. She was self-centered at first, sure, but that was just her nature—someone like that could still be a friend in his book.

He didn't care what species his friends were.

Ghouls, devils, even giants—fine by him.

Ghouls and devils weren't necessarily bad people. Humans weren't necessarily good ones.

Like the saying goes: judge by deeds, not by thoughts.

If someone's good to him, he'll return it in kind.

Simple as that.

Back in the diner, only Rize remained.

Hayashi took a sip of coffee, calmly meeting Rize's gaze.

The way she was looking at him now…

It was like she was looking at something she loved.

And what does one "love"? A lover? Or food?

Hayashi wasn't sure, but it felt more like the latter—food, or perhaps the person who makes it.

Thinking on it, he picked up his coffee and sat down across from her.

Then let out a sigh.

"How should I put this…" He was almost ready to lay it all out.

Getting stared at like this all the time gave him the creeps. It was like being under surveillance.

But just then, Rize glanced toward the door Makima had left through and suddenly said:

"Hayashi-kun, you know there was a devil among those three earlier, right?"

"…Yeah," Hayashi nodded after a moment of thought.

"And you know about ghouls too?"

Hayashi nodded again. "I do."

"Then what do you think I am?"

Hayashi didn't answer right away. He sipped his coffee, brow furrowed. "That's a tough one."

How the hell was he supposed to talk about this?

He really didn't want things to turn violent.

Wouldn't it be better to just chat over a meal? Enjoy some food, maybe a drink, and live life in peace?

That's what he wanted—just a normal life.