The flower shop felt like a secret garden in a backyard, home to a breathtakingly beautiful, saintly elf who taught knowledge in a soft, gentle voice.
And, well, she wore a loose, silky nightgown with nothing underneath.
Yet, this didn't spark even a hint of worldly desire. Instead, it evoked an indescribable sense of purity and beauty.
Shuichi Chiba genuinely felt as if he'd stumbled into a hidden realm from a fairy tale. Even after leaving the flower shop and lying in bed, he was still a bit dazed.
The moonlight was faint, the starlight twinkled, and he slowly drifted into dreams.
*
The next day, Shuichi was woken by the mischievous cat again. Without opening his eyes, he deftly grabbed its back paw and began kneading its soft, pink paw pads.
After playing with the pads, he got bored and tugged its tail. Still groggy, he misjudged his strength and pulled a bit too hard.
Shuichi jolted, thinking, Oh no, I used too much force—almost yanked the tail off.
He hurriedly fixed the tail, smoothing its fur. The cat grumbled but seemed satisfied enough, picking up the teaser wand it had dropped.
Sleepiness gone, Shuichi got up, fed the cat some milk, and summoned his little maid to join him in the bathroom.
Not for washing up—it was time to add to the maid's workload.
"From now on, you'll attend to me in private bathroom visits too, got it?"
Tsuki Akiyama had no objections, even seeming eager, but…
Ten minutes later, Shuichi emerged with a dark expression. Clearly, this wasn't a great idea.
"Will the young master need my service next time?" Tsuki asked, stifling a laugh.
Shuichi shot her a glare, pinching the base of her thigh. "Just wait. You're laughing now? I'll make sure you laugh plenty later."
Tsuki's toes curled, a slick sensation tickling her soles. She squirmed, saying, "Then tonight, shall I wear white stockings?"
"Tonight's for special cuisine, remember?" Shuichi glanced at her.
"I'll prepare thoroughly," Tsuki said, her excitement palpable.
"Bring a small brush—the kind for basting sauce on grilled meat," Shuichi said with a sly squint.
Tsuki swallowed hard, her body trembling faintly. "Yes… young master."
*
After breakfast, Shuichi dragged a chair to the balcony to bask in the sun. It had been a grueling week, and this rare moment of leisure let him zone out.
But the peace didn't last long.
Around 11 a.m., just as the ramen shop opened, it suddenly got lively.
Tsuki was still at cram school, leaving only Akiyama-san and the dummy girl in the shop. They stood flustered as a frequent female customer, accompanied by a group, blocked the entrance.
The group included someone with a camera, a woman with a microphone who looked like a reporter—apparently a TV news crew.
"It's this shop. Ever since I ate here once after Akiyama Ramen opened, I couldn't forget the flavor. I was trying to diet, but in just over a week, not only did I not lose weight, I gained some! And recently, their food's gotten even better, even more addictive. I seriously suspect they're adding something strange to the ramen!"
Akiyama-san had initially thought their fame was spreading, even feeling a bit thrilled about a TV interview. But this was a complaint!
She panicked, looking at her daughter, but An was just as clueless, her expression blank.
"So, Mishima-san, you believe this shop is adding illegal, addictive substances to their ramen that enhance its flavor, correct?" The female reporter clarified, holding the mic to the agitated customer.
"Exactly! How else could an obscure shop in such a remote spot have food this good? It's even better than Tokyo's top Champion Ramen, and if I skip a meal, I feel like something's missing. Isn't that suspicious?"
"If that's true, it's a serious food safety issue that demands utmost caution," The reporter nodded, her tone grave.
She turned to Akiyama-san, the camera swinging to focus on her.
Akiyama-san was terrified, her mind a mess, but thankfully, Tsuki had drilled her into handling disruptive customers.
She tightened her face, staring blankly at the camera, projecting calm indifference.
"You're the shop's manager, Akiyama-san, correct? What do you have to say about Mishima-san's claims?" The reporter extended the mic.
Akiyama-san said flatly, "Nothing."
The reporter pressed, "Do you mean you agree with Mishima-san's claims, or deny them?"
"Deny," Akiyama-san said tersely.
Like An, Tsuki's instructions were clear: say as little as possible, and if it's unmanageable, call her back.
"So, you're saying the flavor alone made Mishima-san addicted, without any illegal additives, correct?"
"Yes," Akiyama-san kept it brief.
The female customer couldn't hold back, interjecting, "That feeling's not normal! If I don't eat here for a day, I feel off, like something's wrong. And if it's this good, how is it so unknown?"
"Good flavor doesn't guarantee fame. That's just reality," Akiyama-san said coolly, though inside, she was freaking out.
What should I do? This is terrifying…
Tsuki, save your mom!
Husband, someone's bullying me!
"So, you're claiming your dishes are better than Champion Ramen's? In a field dominated by men?" The reporter was skilled at chasing hot topics. Food safety? That was old news, barely attention-grabbing without deaths or poisonings.
A female ramen chef dismissing a male champion? That could spark a media storm!
"Yes," Akiyama-san nodded faintly, sneaking a glance at her daughter, only to find her gone. Did the silly girl know to get help?
"Have you privately tasted Champion Ramen's dishes?"
The reporter, tossing food safety aside, pursued eagerly.
The complaining customer looked stunned. Weren't we talking about food safety?
"No," Akiyama-san replied absently, heart racing. Where's my dumb daughter? I can't hold out much longer!
"Without trying it, you're asserting Champion Ramen's flavor is inferior to yours?"
The reporter was adept at leading questions. The customer had said Akiyama's ramen was better, but she pinned the claim on Akiyama-san.
"My daughter and Chiba-kun said it's not as good as mine," Akiyama-san answered thoughtlessly, falling for the trap, her toes fidgeting anxiously in her shoes.
When are they coming? I'm done for…
These people are so scary…
"Oh? Your daughter and Chiba-kun? The girl just now and… is Chiba-kun a well-known food critic?" The reporter asked, intrigued.
At that moment, she noticed the icy female chef's eyes light up, a flash of excitement crossing her face.
"I'm the Chiba-kun Akiyama-san mentioned, but no food critic—just the manager of this shopping street."
Dressed in a suit, Shuichi Chiba parted the gawking crowd, dragged in by An's grip on his arm.
The reporter quickly signaled the camera to focus on him, extending the mic.
Shuichi didn't flinch, offering a polished, professional smile as he faced the complaining customer.
"I understand the situation. As the shopping street's manager, I'll ensure a resolution for all our customers. Before coming here, I contacted the local health department to send inspectors for on-site sampling. I've also reached out to several other media outlets to oversee the process. Rest assured, if there's an issue with the food, we'll take full responsibility. Is this handling satisfactory?"
The customer didn't commit, saying, "The flavor's definitely off. I trust my instincts—I'm not making trouble for no reason."
"Food safety is critical, and your concerns are valid," Shuichi replied, not arguing.
After all… her instincts weren't entirely wrong.
With the customer temporarily placated, the reporter grew anxious…
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