When I Started Doing Housework For The Cool Beauty In My Class, She Began Asking Me About The Dinner Menu Every Day. - Chapter 16: An Apology Pudding.

An Apology Pudding.

Thanks to Fujisaki’s efforts, we successfully secured the time-sale items and other discounted goods.

While the day’s discounted items were nice, the time-sale items were a different story—limited quantity and first-come, first-served. Managing to snag them is a big help for the budget.
That said, it’s Fujisaki footing the bill, so maybe I shouldn’t be so concerned. Still, I plan to ensure everything stays within the budget her mother provides for the household service.

“Back~.”

“Excuse me… Hey, don’t just throw your shoes everywhere. Wash your hands as soon as you get back.”

“…Yes, I’m sorry.”

The moment we got back, I was met with a classic sign of chaos, and I couldn’t let it slide.

I don’t expect her to line up her shoes perfectly, but tossing them around so they’re lying on their sides? Absolutely not.
And before heading to the living room, washing hands is a must. Just doing that reduces the chance of germs sticking around. Direct route to the sink—it’s non-negotiable.

“Shirayanagi-kun, you’re really strict about these things. Are you a germaphobe by any chance?”

“…If I were, I wouldn’t have gotten involved with you in the first place. Entering that messy room of yours? Way beyond the tolerance level of any germaphobe.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

That makes it two apologies within minutes of returning home.

Not that I’m angry or anything. But if I had been a germaphobe, I wonder what my relationship with Fujisaki would’ve been like.

There are varying degrees of germophobia. Some can’t stand filth, while others feel the compulsion to clean it up themselves.

I do enjoy cleaning, but if I were germophobic, would I have been able to step into that room? Could I have handled touching scattered trash or someone else’s underwear?

If not, this whole arrangement likely wouldn’t have existed. In that sense, I’m glad I’m not excessively germophobic.

“You washed properly, right? Just splashing water on your hands doesn’t count. Use soap and scrub your palms, the backs of your hands, between your fingers, under your nails, and your wrists, got it?”

“…What exactly do you think I am, Shirayanagi-kun?”

“You’re Clumsy-saki.”

“Aaah! You said Clumsy-saki again!”

Pout-saki is visibly upset.

Her cheeks look puffed up about 50% more than her usual Pout-saki mode.
A level beyond regular Pout-saki… should I call this Pout-pout-saki?

“Ugh! Shirayanagi-kun, I hope you wash your hands so much that your skin peels right off!”

With that retort, Pout-pout-saki stormed out of the bathroom in a huff.

I stepped into the bathroom to wash my own hands, and, as expected—there it was.

“Classic hopeless-saki quality. Don’t just leave your underwear lying around when you know a guy’s coming over.”

Right in plain sight—her underwear, just left there.
As usual, she’s wearing something unnecessarily bold.

Seriously, though. She went in first. How did she not notice and tidy it up?

This is precisely why she’s hopeless-saki, I thought to myself as I went about washing my hands.

***

After finishing my handwashing and heading to the living room, it was clear that Fujisaki’s “puffed-up mode” was still in full effect. Her cheeks remained stubbornly inflated, making me wonder if she might puff up so much that she’d float off like a balloon.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” I offered.

“Hmph.”

Sitting on the sofa with her knees hugged to her chest, she turned her face away from me in defiance. Yep, no doubt about it—she was sulking. Sulking Fujisaki. Or as I’d call it, Sulky-saki.

As much as I wanted to point out that her current sitting posture could lead to some unintended exposures, addressing that while she was both puffed-up and sulking was just asking for more trouble. A doubly puffed, doubly sulky Fujisaki was not a challenge I was ready to deal with.

Since verbal negotiation was off the table, I’d have to rely on other means. But simply making dinner as usual wouldn’t cut it.

What was needed here was a sense of special treatment—a gesture of remorse, a symbol of apology. The first idea that came to mind was a “sorry omurice,” but…

(I’ve got eggs, so I could make it, but… having omurice two days in a row feels like overkill.)

Sure, Fujisaki would probably eat it with a smile, but it’d be nutritionally unbalanced, and I wasn’t a fan of repeating the same meal back-to-back. With the fresh groceries we bought today, there had to be a way to improve her mood without changing tonight’s menu… and then it hit me.

With a plan in mind, I headed straight to the kitchen and got to work.

The ingredients? Eggs, milk, sugar, and powdered gelatin.

I cracked two eggs and whisked them together. The sound of the eggs breaking seemed to catch Fujisaki’s attention momentarily, but she quickly averted her gaze again, still pouting.

In a saucepan, I combined milk, sugar, and powdered gelatin, stirring the mixture as it heated. Once the sugar and gelatin dissolved and small bubbles began to form around the edges of the milk, I took it off the heat before it boiled and added the eggs, stirring thoroughly.

After mixing everything together, I strained the liquid through a sieve for a smoother texture. Then I poured the mixture into cups and placed them in the fridge to chill and set. With no need for a microwave or steamer, a quick and easy pudding was now ready to be served.

Since I didn’t prepare caramel this time, I decided to drizzle some kuromitsu syrup over the pudding for added sweetness.

Now, the question remained—would this be enough to cheer Fujisaki up?

“Fujisaki, I’m sorry. As an apology, I made pudding. Will you forgive me?”

“…What if I say I won’t?”

“Then I’ll take that as a sign you don’t want the pudding, and I’ll eat it all myself. Both the one I just brought out and the dessert I was planning to serve later—every last bit will be mine to enjoy.”

“My mood is better! No, please, let me fix it right away!”

It’s funny how I’m the one asking her to forgive me, yet here she is, asking me to let her cheer up. Well, at least it seems like this might work out.

“Mm, it’s delicious!”

“Yeah, it turned out well. Simple, but tasty, right?”

“Definitely! I could eat this every day!”

Watching her take a bite, I scooped up some for myself. The ingredients were nothing special, but the simple flavor and the sweetness of the kuromitsu made it delightful.

I’m glad Fujisaki loves it and seems to be in a much better mood, but eating this every day would be a bit much…

“Every day is too much. Things like this taste better when you have them occasionally.”

“Then, if I ask, will you make it again?”

“Who knows? Like omurice, pudding uses eggs too. It depends on your performance during the next egg sale.”

“I’ll do my best! I’ll make sure to join you for shopping on egg sale days!”

That’s reassuring. Fujisaki’s ability to snag sale items is top-notch, so I hope she continues to make the most of it.

“Uwaaa, it’s so good, and now it’s all gone… Is there any more?”

“…I can’t give you the one I set aside for dessert. If you don’t mind, you can have what’s left of mine.”

“Really? Thanks! I’ll take it!”

Her eyes sparkling, Fujisaki snatched my cup without hesitation and started eating.

As I watched her happily devour the pudding, I wondered if she didn’t mind sharing things like this. But then, her spoon paused mid-air, and her face turned slightly red as she alternated glances between the pudding and me.

Ah, she’s realized it after a delay.

Having no reaction at all made me feel like I was the only one overthinking things, which was a bit embarrassing, but seeing such an obvious reaction from her is just as awkward.

Blushing Fujisaki—shortened to Blushy-saki.

Well, you took my pudding, so you’d better finish it, alright? Leaving any behind is not an option!