A Story About a Blonde Gal Angel Who Excessively Praises My Cooking. After Asking Me to Teach Her How to Cook, Feelings of Mutual Love Began to Grow - Chapter 33-34

Chapter 33: Just the Two of Us

“I’m so tired~”

The study session at the Miaki household had ended. The sun had almost set, and the surroundings were already dark.

“…I ended up only playing house, so I didn’t get any studying done.”

“You looked like you were having fun playing house, though.”

“Every time my face even slightly clouded, she’d ask, ‘What’s wrong, dear? Did something happen at work?’ I thought kids’ pretend play would be simpler, but that felt a bit like ‘real pretend play.'”

“Oh, sorry, Master.”

Marriage seems difficult. That’s what I thought as we played house.

“Momohara-kun, I’m sorry too. Since I left, you were the only guy left.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. Kurose-san taught me everything patiently.”

“Kurose-san, thank you for helping out. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. It’s a learning experience for me too.”

“Kurose-san, you’re really smart! You answered everything we asked. You know so much!”

“I don’t know everything.”

I wanted her to say, *I don’t know everything. I only know what I know.* I muttered it quietly in my heart.

“Changing the subject, are you on Instagram, Motobu-san?”

“Uh, no, I’m not.”

Why did she suddenly ask me that? I quickly built up a lie to cover for the truth. In fact, Motobu Ken, as I am, does not use Instagram.

I’m just a background extra. The person who is running it isn’t really me, though it might be easy for people to think it’s me. In that sense, I guess it’s my alter ego.

“Why do you ask?”

I felt something unsettling. What does Kurose-san know? Or what is she trying to find out? I don’t have any secrets that I need to take to the grave. I’m not a spy or anything important like that. I’m just an ordinary person—this is true.

I’m just a high school student who wants to focus on housework and studying.

Instagram is just a little spice to make cooking a bit more enjoyable. I just want to do it quietly. That’s all.

I don’t need the influence of an influencer. After all, I’m just a background character.

“I just heard some classmates were doing it and got curious.”

“I use it, but I mostly just look at other people’s posts. It’s fun to browse, Kurose-san.”

“Momohara-kun, you’re not on it? Since you bake, you could post pictures of what you make.”

“I-I’m not really into that…”

Oh, he looks a bit interested. This guy is cute. My theory that Momohara might be a girl is resurfacing.

“Momohara-kun, do you have pictures of the sweets you’ve made? I’d love to see them if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, sure… here’s one.”

“Wooow! This looks delicious!”

Amatsuka-san looked at the pictures of sweets with eyes sparkling like a child. Momohara seemed flustered but didn’t seem to mind the praise.

Amatsuka-san, who can enjoy talking to anyone, seemed to shine so brightly.

“Oh, this is where I get off.”

“See you, Momohara-kun.”

“See you, Momohara-kun~”

“Goodbye.”

“Yeah, see you at school.”

After Momohara left, it was just the three of us. The surroundings were completely dark by now.

“Oh, I got a call. Hello? Mom? Oh, yeah. Got it. I’ll head there now~.”

“Was that your parents?”

“Yeah, they said we’re eating out tonight and invited me to join. So, I’ll be heading this way.”

“Take care, Amatsuka-san.”

“See you later, Motobu-kun, Kurose-san.”

“Goodbye.”

And then there were just the two of us—me and Kurose-san. I didn’t know what to talk about. We hadn’t spoken much before.

It was about 200 meters to the point where our paths would separate. Walking beside the poised Kurose-san, these 200 meters felt mentally exhausting to me.

I didn’t feel this way when I was with Amatsuka-san.

“Motobu-san.”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to talk for a bit?”

Kurose-san led me to a lonely-looking park. Well, calling it a park was an exaggeration; there were barely any play structures. There was just a bench and a sandbox, about the size of a small one-room apartment. A yellowed streetlight dimly lit the park.

“Won’t your parents be worried? It’s getting late.”

“It’s fine.”

I couldn’t read her expression. Why did she want to talk to me? What was she trying to find out?

“Okay.”

Anyway, I had no escape. As a background character, I have no power to resist anything. All I can do is hope time passes peacefully.

Hoping to spend my high school life quietly, I followed Kurose-san into the park.

—

Chapter 34: Lunch Box

“Would you like something to drink? I’ll treat you.”

“…Thank you. In that case, I’ll have tea.”

We sat on a worn-out park bench, each holding a drink we bought from a vending machine.

…This is awkward.

“…”

“…”

Kurose-san had asked, “Shall we have a little chat?”

But what should I talk about? We hardly had any common ground.

“Motobu-san.”

“Yes…?!”

Kurose-san suddenly attacked. She pulled out a key from somewhere, pushed me down, straddled me, and attempted to stab my neck with it.

“Answer me.”

“N-no, what should I answer?!”

If this was some kind of friendly gesture, she was definitely insane! What on earth is going on?!

She’s clearly aiming for my carotid artery without hesitation. And one side of the key isn’t shaped like a typical key, but rather has a blade like a knife or a kitchen utensil.

“…Why do you even have something like this…!”

What Kurose-san was holding was a key-shaped knife. I had seen something like it while browsing kitchen tools on an online shopping site. It was about the same size as a regular house key but had a 5-centimeter blade that could easily cut an artery.

Why does a high school girl have something like this…?

“Answer me. You’re ‘Background Mob Taro,’ aren’t you?”

“…And if I am, then what?”

This must be related to her earlier questioning. The odd question about whether I used Instagram. But this is different from before. She’s certain that I’m Background Mob Taro.

Why is this happening to me, just a regular poster?!

“Your supermarket shopping, your posting intervals, the fact that you teach Amatsuka-san how to cook but haven’t told her about your Instagram, and how you didn’t post on the days you taught her. And yet, there are posts on Instagram that are very similar to yours.”

…When I ran into Kurose-san at the supermarket before, she disappeared quickly without even carrying a shopping basket. You can shop without a basket, and normally that wouldn’t be too suspicious. Especially when buying something small like snacks.

“…How did you come to think that I’m him?”

The key knife was still pointed at me, its dull blade gleaming. I might be slightly taller than Kurose-san, but she’s good at sports, which means I’m completely outmatched physically.

In a life-threatening situation like this, the difference in our abilities is even more painfully clear.

“…The lunch box looked so delicious…”

And with that, Kurose-san started to cry. The key knife slipped from her hand, and she collapsed on top of me, clinging to me as she sobbed.

…I didn’t understand what was happening.

☆☆☆

“…I have a taste disorder…”

Kurose-san sniffled quietly, sitting right next to me.

Right next to me, I mean really close… Wasn’t she just trying to kill me?

I’m still scared.

“…But when I saw your lunch box, Motobu-san, it looked so delicious. I’ve been following your Instagram, and yours is the only food that looks appetizing to me. So, I instinctively felt that you were Background Mob Taro.”

“So, you knew instinctively, but because I pretended not to know, you tried to force it out of me with a key knife?”

“Yes.”

That’s way too extreme… I could have died.

“But I like you, Motobu-san. Sexually.”

…

How did it come to this? I was being stalked, almost killed, and now I’m being confessed to.

Can someone really tell just by looking at a lunch box that it was made by the same person? No matter how you interpret it, “delicious-looking” is just “delicious-looking.” Kurose-san’s thought process is incomprehensible, she’s a stalker, and she almost killed me.

Even now, I’m still nervous, wondering if she’s hiding another blade somewhere, and now she’s confessing to me, making me sweat uncontrollably.

If I reject her poorly, she might stab me this time…

Kurose-san is beautiful, and she has a great figure, but that’s not the point—this is terrifying.

But then Kurose-san pressed even harder. With tears in her eyes, she grasped my hand and pressed it against her chest.

“Even as your sex slave, I’m fine. Please go out with me.”

…This is heavy. And scary…

Why is she so desperate?

Just because my cooking looked delicious, and now she’s saying she’d be fine as a sex slave if I’d go out with her—this is clearly abnormal.

“…Honestly, right now, I’m fully occupied with household chores and studying, and my family situation is complicated…”

I desperately searched my mind for a way to turn her down without getting stabbed. But I couldn’t find a good way.

“I’m sorry.”

In my life, I’ve never been confessed to before. I have no idea how to handle this. Especially since I almost died just a moment ago. I can’t come up with a decent response. I’m not a detective or a hero.

Because I’m just a background character.

“I see…”

Kurose-san looked down. At that moment, a chill ran down my spine, as if my neck had been licked.

“But…”

I felt like I’d die if I didn’t say something right now. But what could I do? I couldn’t do anything, and that’s why I’m in this situation now.

“…I can cook for you. Not every day, but I can make you something.”

“…Is that okay?”

“Yes. That’s all I can really do for you.”

Even if I could successfully turn her down now, there’s no guarantee that the stalker-like Kurose-san wouldn’t harm Chika or Manoka-san in the future.

This was the only way to keep my life hanging by a thread. I have no idea why she’s so obsessed with my cooking. But if her taste disorder is causing her distress, and if my food can ease that suffering, then I might be the only one who can help her.

“I’m looking forward to it, Motobu-san. Thank you.”

The fingers that intertwined with mine felt sad, as if seeking warmth.

I still didn’t understand why she was crying so much.