That Half-Finished Drink Was Lethal— What Happened When I Left My Bottle Behind in a 1:4 Male-to-Female World - 9

Chapter 9: That Man and His Messy Handwriting—Simmering Kindness Until the Edges Soften

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“SHIIIIIIT!!!!”

I jumped out of bed at the sound of a scream that seemed to signal the end of the world, echoing from my neighbor’s room. I glanced at the clock; it was already pitch black outside. It seemed that after coming home from my part-time job, my intended short nap had turned into a very deep sleep. Next, from the other side of the single thin wall separating us, came a loud THUD!—the sound of something colliding violently.

(…Is it Miya-san again?)

I knew she wasn’t “normal” from the way she hurled sharp insults every time we passed each other in the hallway. She was a reckless woman who would barge into my room without permission and polish off whatever pre-made meals I had sitting there. Normally, this would be a case for calling the police or crying to the management company. However, something had happened before that made me think, “Well, whatever.”

Thinking back on it was a bit embarrassing, but anyway, since then, my rhythm had been thrown off, and we had settled into a completely “easygoing” relationship. The problem for me now was that “ear-piercing silence” that suddenly followed the screaming. That heavy atmosphere after a fit of rage, as if she had given up on everything. It would leave a bad taste in my mouth to just leave her like that and go back to sleep.

(Did she lose some game data she was working on? When something you’ve spent so much time building vanishes in an instant, you do feel like shouting, I suppose.)

But this “heavy air” transmitting through the wall probably wasn’t about a game; it was likely something else entirely. I stared at the large pile of potatoes I had received from a regular at my job.

“I’ll have her help me consume these potatoes…”

I was actually quite confident in my nikujaga. 

(Besides, when something bad happens, there’s nothing better than eating something delicious.)

I peeled the potatoes and began simmering the meat and potato stew with practiced skill. Simmering it until the edges of the potatoes softened allowed the flavors to soak in and made it delicious.

(Lately, Miya-san always seems armed to the teeth with thorns. If she eats these potatoes with the edges simmered off, maybe her prickly attitude will round out a little too.)

…Actually, to be honest, I wanted her to do more of her own cooking. It was a problem when she helped herself to my prepared food because it threw off my meal plans for the day. While the pot bubbled away, I let my pen fly across a notepad.

『Delicious and Easy Nikujaga Recipe』

I wrote it with the faint hope that giving this to her might spark some interest in cooking for herself. Packing the piping hot stew into a Tupperware container, I braced myself and knocked on the door of the room next door.

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Knock, knock.

(Keep it as gentle as possible so as not to provoke her.)

“Miya-san. Good evening. …Wait, it’s pitch black in here. Is there a power outage?”

The moment the door opened, Miya-san was standing there with a face like a ghost. The room was dark. The faint light from her smartphone illuminated her face eerily.

“…You bastard. What the hell do you want…? Are you here to laugh at me? Huh?! Look at me, the penniless queen… Kehyahya! Quite the masterpiece, isn’t it…?”

(She’s in pretty rough shape… Hmm? She seems a bit down?)

Rather than a blazing inferno of insults, it felt more like a dying weasel’s last spray. Her eyes were terribly wet, and her usual poisonous tongue lacked its usual vigor.

“I didn’t come to laugh at you. …I got a ton of potatoes from a regular at work. I made some nikujaga, but I can’t finish it all by myself. …Do you want some, Miya-san? It’d be a waste to throw it out.”

“…Huh? Nikujaga…? Is your brain boiling, you prick? If you’re planning to do me a favor and cash in later, don’t bother.”

“Ahaha, there’s no way I’d do that. It’s just nikujaga. …It won’t be good if it gets cold. I worked really hard on the heat control and everything.”

Knowing I might be rejected, I took a step into the dark room.

“I don’t know what happened, but please go back to being the usual Miya-san who eats chips and throws out sharp remarks. Oh, and please stop barging into my room without permission. Oh, and please do your own cleaning and cooking once in a while. It’s a problem when you make yourself at home in a room I just cleaned.”

“…Idiot… You bastard, don’t go saying whatever you want…”

I saw a single tear spill from the large eyes staring at me.

(Yeah, it looks like this isn’t about game data being deleted.)

“Hey, Yuu. …No honorifics.”

“Huh?”

I was taken aback by the sudden demand.

“If I tell you to call me that, you call me that! …Come on, hurry up…!”

She looked down, her face turning red all the way to her ears.

(Wait, no honorifics? I really don’t understand the sense of distance in this world.)

“…Miya.”

The moment I called her name, her shoulders jumped. As she sat there frozen like a stone statue, I handed her the Tupperware and the recipe memo.

“Here, this is for you. Miya-san, it’s a secret recipe, so keep it to yourself. If you cook for yourself, you’ll save on food costs.”

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After returning to my room, I heard sounds coming from next door again after a while. It was the sound of someone desperately pounding away at a keyboard.

(Ah, she must be typing the recipe into her notepad. …She’s surprisingly diligent. I’m impressed.)

About an hour later, there was another knock at my door. When I opened it, Miya-san was standing there, looking much more healthy than before.

(Her eyes look like they’re totally wired, though.)

“Yuu. Come to my room! …And brew some coffee. Right now. Also, keep skipping the honorifics. Stop using formal speech, too.”

“…Eh? Ah, okay. I don’t mind, but… is caffeine okay this late at night?”

I felt like her energy had redlined in a different way than before. When I went to her room, a smartphone was set up there. It looked like a video call or something. I brewed her coffee just as I was told.

“Yuu. …Hey, Yuu. Refill the coffee. Black, but actually, one sugar. Also, I told you earlier! Don’t use honorifics.”

“Miya-san, you really got your energy back. Fine, fine, I’ll brew the coffee.”

“Call me by my name! And stop the formal speech… Come on, hurry up…!”

“Alright, alright. Miya, I’m making the coffee.”

(…I’m starting to feel like I’m a caregiver. But seeing Miya-san, who looked like she was dying earlier, happily interacting with her ‘friends on the internet’ like this makes me feel a bit relieved.)

“Here… say ‘ah.’ Ahh. …………I mean feed me! Don’t make me say it! And blow on it too!”

The demands were getting intense all of a sudden.

(Haah, well, I guess I’ll play along just for today to celebrate her feeling better.)

“…Here, Miya. Open up. Say ‘ah.'”

“…Mph, mmm… Mm, it’s too delicious. …Oh, this is still hot. Yuu, look. Blow on it. Get more of the heat off.”

“…Hot? Are you sensitive to heat? Sorry, sorry. Phoo… phoo… Okay, is this alright?”

Miya-san had an ecstatic expression on her face as she stuffed her cheeks with the nikujaga I fed her.

(Is it really that good? I guess adding extra sugar as a secret ingredient was the right move.)

《At that moment, the chat section of the streaming screen flowed at an unprecedentedly high speed. The notification sounds for donations wouldn’t stop.》

(The text on the smartphone streaming screen is flying by at an incredible rate, but I wonder if they’re sending supportive messages like ‘Did you burn your tongue?’ or ‘That nikujaga looks good.’)

Miya-san happily held that messy recipe memo I wrote up to the camera.

(Next, is she going to say, ‘The handwriting is messy but the recipe is top-tier’?)

“Oh, that’s right. I’m uploading a new video tomorrow night. The title is ‘Undressing My Devoted Pet Dog’… just kidding. Kehyahya! It’s a joke, Yuu. Don’t… Don’t look so troubled with that cute face!”

“Don’t say things that could get you reported, even as a joke…”

(A video of an exhibitionist would definitely get reported… She’s really a reckless person, this one.)

I was genuinely troubled. Miya-san let out a cackle at my reaction. Looking up at me with those clear eyes, grinning as she teased me. Seeing her look so incredibly happy, my own irritation just evaporated. Compared to the girl sinking into despair earlier, this girl—laughing with her cheeks slightly flushed as she watched my troubled face—felt much more “alive.”

When the stream ended, Miya-san put her phone down with a satisfied look. For some reason, she had tissues stuffed in her nose. Before I knew it, it was past eleven o’clock.

(…Oh, is it already this late? I have work early tomorrow. I should head back soon.)

“I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, so I’m going to head out now.”

“…You prick. …Um, …er…”

(Hm? Did she say something? Her voice was so quiet I couldn’t hear her at all.)

“—Hah?! Don’t get the wrong idea! I was thinking of making you finish the cleaning!!”

“Right, right, I get it. …Get some good rest today, Miya.”

I went back to my room and crawled into bed.

(I have work early tomorrow. I need to get to sleep …Ah, but still. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a very lively day.)

With that premonition, I fell into a deep sleep.

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