When I Picked Up A Stunningly Gorgeous Downer-Type Beauty In Front Of The Entrance. - Chapter 7.2: Home-cooked meals made by girls are delicious. Part -2.

Home-cooked meals made by girls are delicious. Part -2.

“Fried chicken, rolled omelet, lettuce and tomato salad, and… octopus sausage.”

The ingredients that were supposed to be tomorrow’s bento box fill the dinner table with vibrant colors.

The only exception is the rice, microwaved and served as a half-priced kalbi beef bowl, portioned into each plate.

Midway through junior year of high school.

Since I decided not to accompany my parents on their business trips, my meals have been far from conventional.

It was either bentos or cup noodles. Sometimes, it was so bad that I didn’t eat at all.

But now, here I am.

A girl. And not just any girl—a stunningly beautiful one, serving me homemade dishes. It feels almost like a dream, making my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“…I know it’s not very good.”

Sajou-san mutters with a soft voice from across the table.

Perhaps she thought I had some complaints.

Well, I understand what she means.

Her cooking is a little burnt, and the shapes of the cut ingredients are uneven.

The octopus sausages she attempted turned into a chaotic mess. It’s the Great Octopus Sausage Massacre.

It’s safe to say she’s not exactly skilled in cooking.

But does that mean it’s not tasty? Not at all.

Saying grace, I put my hands together.

Then, I pick up a piece of fried chicken with my chopsticks and take a bite.

“Mm, delicious.”

Juicy and crispy. I can’t help but let out a relaxed smile.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to say it.”

“It’s not just flattery.”

Indeed, it’s not. It’s not flattery.

It might look unappealing, but the taste is undeniably good. That’s a fact, not an exaggeration.

I’ve felt this way since I first tasted her bento boxes.

“Careful and meticulous.”

Watching her cook today, I’m convinced.

Perhaps Sajou-san doesn’t cook regularly.

But she follows the recipe diligently.

She measures the seasonings with measuring spoons and fries the chicken twice.

She doesn’t shy away from putting in effort.

This results in her dishes tasting delicious, as expected. It’s only natural.

“Your kind personality shines through in your cooking, Sajou-san.”

“…What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t get it.”

If you’re going to say that much, you better finish everything on your plate.

Before I know it, the salad, rolled omelet, and fried chicken are all piled onto one plate.

“Well… what do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

Well, I’ll eat it anyway.

For a while, I continued eating silently while Sajou-san kept glancing at me from time to time. It feels a bit uncomfortable, like being a panda at the zoo.

However, it seems that she was satisfied after eating half of the dishes she served. Sajou-san also puts her hands together and quietly says, “…Itadakimasu.” Then, she picks up a fragment of fried chicken with her chopsticks and delicately places it into her slightly opened mouth.

Her jaw moves gracefully, tracing a clean line.

“It’s delicious, right?”

I ask with a smile, as if it were about myself. However, Sajou-san responds with a stern expression.

“It’s not good.”

“Huh?”

The girl in front of me is stubborn and far from straightforward.

“That’s not possible, right? It’s delicious, isn’t it? Come on, give me your honest opinion.”

“…You’re annoying.”

I reluctantly back down, feeling genuinely frustrated. Despite being so delicious…

“Seriously… it’s awful.”

She repeats it over and over again.

However, even though it was slow, Sajou-san never stopped using her chopsticks until the plate with the food was clean.