CHAPTER 286: COOKING CONTEST [2]

Just when I thought the storm had calmed, another shadow fell across the table.

"...My turn."

Nora placed a neatly wrapped cloth bundle on the table with a kind of ceremonial gravity. She untied the knots slowly, almost dramatically, like she’d been rehearsing the moment in her head all day.

When the lid finally came off, even I had to admit—it didn’t look like a lunchbox. It looked like an exhibit.

Every color balanced. Every cut precise. Meat layered with care, vegetables arranged like accents. This wasn’t food you just threw together. This was intent, concentration—affection, too, if you bothered to read between the lines.

Inside: tender chicken breast, grilled sausages cut with neat little slits, golden-brown pork cutlets that looked crisp but not greasy. On the side, kimbap rolled tight with just enough spice to cut through the richness.

It was the kind of lineup designed to hit straight at a guy’s weak spot.

"Wow," Ryen said, beaming like a tourist at a fireworks show. "It’s all my favorite food!"

I stared at him. Nora stared at him. And I was pretty sure we were both thinking the exact same thing:

Of course it’s your favorite food, idiot. She made it for you.

Our eyes met. Nora’s lips pressed together in a thin smile, but she gave the faintest shake of her head—as if to say, Don’t say it. Please don’t say it out loud.

She looked... almost pitiful, in that moment.

"Ryen, you eat first," she said softly.

"Huh? Shouldn’t the judge try everything equally?" he asked, clueless as ever.

Her smile wavered, but she steadied it. "It’s not a competition. Just... eat it first. I’ll eat after you."

If he didn’t take that first bite, I knew the air would get heavy. It wasn’t about fairness, or judging, or any of that. It was about her.

About the courage she’d wrapped up inside that lunchbox, waiting for just this moment.

And if he couldn’t see that?

Well. I could.

Ryen finally picked up the chopsticks. For a second, even he seemed to notice the atmosphere—like the weight of Nora’s gaze brushing against him—but then his usual grin slid back into place.

"Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here."

He went straight for the pork cutlet, biting into it with zero hesitation. The crunch was audible, the meat inside tender enough that even I, from across the table, could tell it was perfect.

"...Mmm. This is really good!" he said, his eyes lighting up. "Crispy on the outside, juicy inside—wow, did you fry this yourself?"

I didn’t have to look at Nora to know she’d been holding her breath until that moment. The tiniest exhale slipped from her lips, her shoulders easing.

"Yes," she answered, trying for casual but failing. Her voice was just a little too soft, a little too careful.

Ryen, oblivious, grabbed a piece of sausage next, then a roll of kimbap. Each time, his compliments tumbled out with that same clueless sincerity.

"Ah, the spice kicks in just right—this is amazing. Nora, you really outdid yourself."

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was judging a cooking contest, not tasting something that had been practically gift-wrapped with feelings.

I stole a glance at Nora. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, but her fingers fidgeted against each other.

Her expression was composed, but her eyes—the way they lingered on Ryen every time he lifted his chopsticks—gave everything away.

It was like watching someone set their heart on the table, praying the other person would notice.

And Ryen? He just kept eating, smiling like the fool he was.

Sometimes, I wondered if being that dense was a kind of power in itself.

Ryen was already halfway through the sausages, humming like a man who’d just stumbled into paradise. Nora’s carefully hidden tension was softening by the second.

Keira, however, looked like she’d bitten into a lemon. She sat with her arms crossed, her foot tapping under the table.

"...Seriously. You’re acting like you’ve never eaten a homemade lunch before," she muttered.

"Because I haven’t had this kind before," Ryen replied without missing a beat, lifting another piece of kimbap with all the grace of a starving wolf.

Keira rolled her eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck.

Leona, on the other hand, leaned forward curiously, her usual easy smile in place. "It really does smell good, though. Mind if I try a bite later, Nora?"

"Of course," Nora said quickly, almost too eagerly, like she was relieved someone had noticed besides Ryen.

I leaned back, watching the whole thing unfold.

Ryen was oblivious, Keira was annoyed, Nora was nervous, and Leona... well, Leona was enjoying the show.

It was almost funny, really—how much weight Nora had placed on every detail of that lunch, how much she wanted him to notice, and how blind Ryen was to the layers behind it all.

Every time his chopsticks moved, her eyes followed, just a fraction too long. And every time he praised her cooking, that faint light in her gaze flickered brighter.

From an outsider’s perspective, we probably looked like the perfect little group—two handsome guys, two pretty girls, and one extra tag-along, all eating lunch together in a rose-filled park.

Picturesque, right? The kind of scene you’d see on a festival pamphlet.

But my eyes weren’t on the roses or the food. I was scanning the people watching us. And that’s when I spotted them.

A man built like a wall was clutching a soft-serve ice cream in one massive hand, arguing with a woman barely half his size.

"Ah, you idiot! Who plays whack-a-mole like that?!" she snapped, stamping her foot.

The giant puffed out his chest. "Ahem. A martial artist must focus solely on the opponent before him. I decided to duel with the one in the middle. It was a battle of wills. You wouldn’t understand."

"This isn’t some honorable duel! If our score’s too low, we don’t get the doll!"

"Sometimes," he said gravely, like a sage imparting wisdom, "there are things more important than prizes."

"Stop it! Just pay for another try, you big oaf!"

The man exhaled, long-suffering, then handed over some bills. Ice cream still balanced in his other hand, not a drip spilled.

"...I won."

"You won?!" the girl exploded. "Your score is terrible because you only hit the mole in the middle! What’s the point of winning if you can’t even clear the stage?!"

"It’s not like we can’t afford a doll," he muttered. "Just bear with it."

"It’s better to win it in a game!" she shot back, cheeks puffed in frustration.

To anyone else, it probably looked like a comedic couple with a weird dynamic. But I knew better.

The sight of the two of them bickering was burned into my memory. The towering man and the petite girl weren’t just quirky festivalgoers. They were villains—executives of the Villain Alliance.

Not just any thugs, either. They were supposed to be the big antagonists locked in a drawn-out rivalry with the Twelve Signs. And considering how fast the Signs were still climbing in the original story, that made the Alliance one of the most dangerous groups around at this point.

Cute act or not, these two weren’t here for the roses or the prizes. They were killing time until their boss arrived to stage a terrorist attack.

And here I was, sitting in a rose garden, pretending to eat sandwiches, while the main villains of this arc played whack-a-mole twenty meters away.

...Yeah. Just my luck.

"...Wow, Nora, this pork cutlet’s actually amazing," Ryen said, happily chewing without the faintest idea of the battlefield sitting twenty meters away.

Keira gave a small smile, polite as always, while Leona leaned forward to steal a piece of sausage from Ryen’s lunchbox without asking.

"Hey, that’s mine!"

"You’re slow. Sharing’s good for the soul," Leona replied breezily, unbothered.

I hummed, stabbing at a piece of kimbap with my chopsticks, nodding like I was following along with their banter. From the outside, I probably looked calm, maybe even a little bored.

But inside?

Inside I was calculating exit routes, crowd density, and how many seconds it would take the cotton-candy duo over there to cause chaos if they decided to drop the act.

I glanced back at them casually, as though I was just admiring the festival crowd. The giant was now carefully spoon-feeding the small girl some of his ice cream. She kicked her legs happily, all smiles. Adorable, really. Almost enough to make you forget they specialized in mass destruction.

Almost.

"Rin, you’re awfully quiet," Nora said suddenly, tilting her head at me.

"Mm? Just eating," I replied smoothly, popping the kimbap into my mouth.

"Suspicious," Leona said, narrowing her eyes. "You’re not secretly plotting something, are you?"

"If I were, I wouldn’t tell you," I deadpanned.

That earned a laugh around the little circle, which was good. Normal. Exactly what I wanted.

Because the last thing I needed was for them to notice the two ticking time bombs by the whack-a-mole booth.

So I kept smiling faintly, nodding when Ryen started rambling about how "real friends share food," all while my gaze occasionally flicked back to the villains.

Two handsome guys. Two pretty girls. One extra.

And about twenty meters away, two monsters playing festival games.

Act natural, Rin. Act natural.