After we wrapped up our casual adventure at the mall—bags in both hands, my wallet barely breathing—I felt my stomach grumble like a boss battle alert.

"Ne, Tomoko," I said, flashing her a sheepish grin. "How about we eat out today? I mean, you're always cooking for me. Tonight, I'll treat you."

Tomoko glanced over, surprised. "Is that really okay, Sousuke-kun? You work so hard part-time… You should save."

She looked so sincere—like the kind of woman who'd argue with you over a 10-yen discount at the supermarket for your own good. Adorably dangerous.

"Don't worry," I said, waving it off. "Sometimes you've gotta spoil the people who spoil you."

Besides, technically the system had been rewarding me quite nicely through Tomoko. So this was more like… letting her nibble on the breadcrumbs of divine compensation? Was that ethical? Meh. The wool comes from the sheep, and I'm just the… slightly perverted shepherd.

We ended up at a Chinese place in the mall—one of those Japanese-Chinese fusion joints with menus that feel like a roll call of every food cliché from Chinatown.

Mapo tofu. Check. Peking duck. Double check. Fried dumplings, dan dan noodles—I clicked "yes" on the whole starter pack like I was pre-ordering DLC for my mouth.

Tomoko, for her part, looked completely fascinated.

"This duck is… wow… it's so crispy…" she mumbled, eyes sparkling.

She scooped up a bite of mapo tofu. "Hah—spicy?! What's this tingly feeling… Wait, is this… Sichuan peppercorns?!"

Then she nibbled on a dumpling, humming. "Mmm… the filling's so tender… I need to analyze the ratios…"

It was adorable. Even while eating, she was a chef. Like watching a Pokémon evolve into a home cook and a gourmet scholar at the same time.

Still, the portions were pretty modest—typical of restaurants here. Despite ordering enough for a small army, we wiped out every dish.

"Haaah… I'm so full," Tomoko sighed, patting her slightly rounded belly with one pale, gentle hand. "Sousuke-kun… I probably ate too much…"

I smirked. "You look adorable when you're full."

"Stop it… you're teasing again…"

"Nope. Just speaking truth."

The evening breeze had picked up, and the sky overhead was brushed in midnight navy. The moon peeked out between drifting clouds, like a shy girl lifting her skirt hem just enough to tease the stars.

As we walked side by side down the quiet sidewalk, I glanced at Tomoko again. Her hair fluttered gently in the wind, soft like the wisps of steam rising from hot milk.

The streetlamps cast long shadows behind us—two outlines walking together… slowly merging.

When we got back to the apartment, I helped carry her stuff inside.

I thought that was it for the night—classic wholesome ending. But then…

"Um… Sousuke-kun… Don't leave yet. Would you like something to drink?" she asked, not meeting my eyes.

That pause.

The way her fingers twisted at the hem of her cardigan.

Ah. I see.

"Sure," I said, trying to sound casual, tossing myself onto her sofa. "Coke, if you've got it."

She nodded and walked off. The shopping bags rustled as she dug through them.

I pulled out one of my new pillows and leaned into it. Nice. Firm, but soft. Like a pillow with its life together.

Then—

Psshhht. The sound of a can opening.

Cold Coke. Nectar of the gods.

I took a long swig, carbonation burning through my chest like divine energy.

...And then came the rustling.

From her room.

The air changed. Like something ancient and powerful had just awakened inside the apartment.

"Sousuke… Sousuke-kun…"

That voice.

My spine straightened.

I turned—and forgot to breathe.

There she was.

Tomoko Matsumoto—goddess of the kitchen, patron saint of motherly energy—was now a black-laced storm of seduction.

A translucent gauzy negligee clung to her curvy form like it had signed a lifelong loyalty pact. The fabric hugged her chest so tight it looked like one wrong move would cause an international wardrobe incident.

The lace around her waist framed her hips with teasing precision. Her thighs—soft, pale, inviting—were fully exposed, shimmering faintly in the warm light like forbidden fruit under a silk veil.

She leaned lightly against the doorframe, legs slightly crossed, her fingers nervously rubbing the top of her thigh.

"I… I thought…" she whispered, voice trembling, "…this is the kind of thing Sousuke-kun might like?"

Her words curled around me like perfume. No, like magic.

I swallowed hard.

The room fell into silence—no TV, no outside noise. Just the soft hum of the air conditioner and the thunderous roar of my heartbeat.

The storm outside began to grow louder, wind howling against the windowpanes.

But the real tempest… was right here in front of me.

Wrapped in black lace. Smiling shyly.

Calling my name.

--

If you want to read 10+ chapters, visit my ptttn.

pttttn.com/Hentai_kun