[Sad News] Living Together with the Unattainable Beauty—Her Overwhelming Affection Is Way Too Calculated - 4

Chapter 4: Start with the Stomach!

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My beloved Gen-chan. The monumental first step to breaking down his wariness was to completely and permanently capture his stomach. This was the fundamental and supreme tactic in love strategies across all time.

Fortunately, I prided myself on my cooking skills, honed by the knowledge of maintaining my figure from my modeling work, which I believed were at a fairly high level. The problem was his utterly disastrous domestic skills and his self-esteem, which seemed darker and deeper than the Mariana Trench.

After breakfast on the first day of our cohabitation, he watched me in the kitchen from the corner of the living room, as if cautiously observing a wild beast’s cage from a distance. Though he made a commendable gesture of offering to help, his eyes eloquently said.

『If someone like me touches anything, I’ll surely defile this sacred kitchen…!』

Ugh, he’s worse off than I thought… The distance is quite far…

First, I had to thoroughly get him used to being “taken care of.” And then, bit by bit, I’d imprint on his subconscious that this care was not just for anyone—it was something “special” reserved only for him.

Fufufu, my plan is perfect.

For tonight’s dinner, I decided on his favorite dish (thoroughly researched since middle school, of course): omurice. In the evening, I headed to the supermarket alone, buying fresh eggs, brand-name chicken breast, and sweet Awaji Island onions. I didn’t forget a high-end pudding for dessert—my reward for the success of today’s strategy.

Already imagining a grand victory, I returned home with a smug grin. Back home, I changed into my casual, deep red colored tracksuit. I wanted to wear cuter loungewear, but it was too soon. 

First, I needed to appeal to my charm as a domestic woman. Tying my apron tightly, I marched to the battlefield: the kitchen. I chopped the onions into perfect, tear-free mince. I trimmed excess fat from the chicken and cut it into even pieces. Melting butter in a heated pan, I sautéed the onions until translucent, their sweet aroma filling the kitchen.

Then I added the chicken, sprinkling a bit of white wine for flavor while cooking it through. Next, I tossed in freshly cooked rice, deftly mixing it with a wooden spatula before adding ketchup—not just any ketchup, but my special blend with a touch of Worcestershire sauce and consommé.

Each grain of rice was beautifully coated in the vibrant ketchup color. The chicken rice was complete. Now for the main event. I cracked two fresh eggs into a bowl, adding a bit of milk, a pinch of salt, and a drop of my love juice, whisking quickly to break up the whites.

I heated another pan on high, melting butter. With a sizzling sound that stirred the appetite, I poured in the egg mixture. As it reached a soft, half-cooked state, I folded it inward with chopsticks, creating a smooth surface with a creamy center—a perfect plain omelet.

I gently slid it onto the chicken rice. On a slightly oversized white plate, the golden omurice sat like a work of art. But I wasn’t done yet. I had a master plan. Taking the ketchup bottle in hand, I took a deep breath. This wasn’t just a design. It was a symbol of my long-held feelings, my love.

With slightly trembling fingers, I squeezed ketchup onto the omurice. It came out a bit uneven, but anyone could see it was an adorable heart shape.

Is this too cliché? But if it’s not this obvious, that oblivious boy won’t notice.

“Miyazuka-kun, dinner’s ready!”

I called to him, sitting compactly on the sofa in the living room, staring into space as if counting stains on the wall. He hesitantly approached the table, saw the omurice, and froze.

Yes, he noticed! He saw my heartfelt ketchup love heart!

My chest pounded with anticipation. What kind of reaction would he have? Would he blush? Start noticing me a little? Maybe even stare at me with a red face…!

“Thi-this is…”

“…Did you use too much ketchup?”

“Huh?”

His words, coming not just from left field but from beyond the atmosphere, left me stunned.

No, that’s not it. That’s not what this is. This is… My expression of love…!

“N-No, but it looks really delicious! Let’s eat!”

With that, he mercilessly sliced through my heartfelt heart with a spoon and began devouring the omurice at a ferocious pace. My years of feelings mixed with the chicken rice and creamy eggs in his mouth, vanishing.

There’s oblivious, and then there’s THIS!

I screamed internally. But I plastered a perfect, saintly smile on my face.

“I’m glad it suits your taste.”

As I said that, he chewed like a squirrel, cheeks puffed out, eyes sparkling.

“This is insanely good! Fujigaya-san, you’re really an amazing cook!”

Seeing his pure, unclouded smile, my anger melted away.

No, his overly pure reaction is just too cute. I must be pretty far gone myself.

“Anything else you like, Miyazuka-kun? Or anything you don’t like? I’d love to know.”

When I asked, he frantically shook his head.

“Huh?! N-No, nothing! I’ll eat anything! If it’s made by Fujigaya-san, I’d even eat a rock!”

You don’t have to eat rocks.

His desperate demeanor made me smile. It seemed my “capture his stomach” strategy was only just beginning. The road might be long, but that was okay. If I made delicious meals for him every day, eventually, he’d realize this warmth was my feelings. And one day, I’d ruin him so much he couldn’t live without my cooking. 

“What should I make tomorrow?”

With a slightly dark thought, I mumbled cheerfully, as I cleared his perfectly empty plate. When I got out of the bath, Gen-chan seemed to already be asleep in his room. I turned off the living room lights and entered my room, next to his. Quietly, I pressed my ear against the wall separating our rooms. Holding my breath and focusing, I could hear his regular, rough breathing.

“Ha, ha, ha…”

He’s doing it, he’s doing it!

It’d be weirder if he wasn’t excited, living under the same roof as a beauty like me. I couldn’t wait to clean his room tomorrow. It was not an exaggeration to say I took on all the housework for this.

I lifted the T-shirt I was wearing as pajamas, exposing my chest. He was right there, where my voice could reach, yet I had my breasts out. The fact thrilled me uncontrollably. Slipping my hand into my shorts, I traced my vaginal opening in sync with his breathing, slowly, carefully, to avoid making noise, caressing my G-spot.

“…Ngh♡… Ngh♡…”

Fufufu. My love juices were overflowing. What kind of reaction would he have if I left these soaked shorts where he could see them? Would he take them to his room and use them to masturbate?

“…Ngh♡… Ngh♡…”

I want him to see my love soon. To feel it. Deeper.

I stretched my fingers as far as they could go, caressing my deepest parts, yearning for him to touch me there.

“Ih… Nhggh…♡♡♡♡”

With a loud squirt, I released into my shorts, stifling my voice as my body convulsed, riding the waves of pleasure.

“…Fuu♡ Fuu♡ Fuu♡♡”

As I steadied my breathing, I listened to his voice. A muffled groan stood out. Did he ejaculate properly? Did he manage okay? Did he do it without my help?

I’ll check his trash can tomorrow morning.

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