The next morning!
The sky was clear, with not a cloud in sight.
Wearing simple casual clothes, Haramura Makoto yawned as he arrived at the Cairen Workshop research institute.
"Please wait in the reception room. The director is getting dressed," the receptionist said.
It seemed Shokuhou Misaki had instructed them beforehand—he was ushered in without question.
"May I offer you something to drink?"
"Juice, black tea, or coffee?"
Barely had he sat down when the receptionist politely asked.
"Coffee, please."
He never touched juice and had no taste for tea. Coffee was his only favorite.
Within two minutes, a steaming cup of coffee appeared on the table. The receptionist bowed and withdrew. Makoto lifted the cup; the rich aroma of freshly ground beans exploded on his palate, and he sipped again.
"High quality," he murmured. "Truly befitting a noble young lady."
"I imagine it must be hard to obtain," he added. Though not wealthy enough to buy anything on a whim, a fine coffee was affordable. But some things in this world required more than money—you needed influence.
"You're correct—production is limited," a clear voice said. Makoto looked up as the reception room door swung open.
"If you like it, I'll have them send the remaining beans to your home," Shokuhou Misaki offered, her honey-colored hair swaying gently as she stepped in. She wore a light touch of makeup—her features more defined—and still retained her Tokiwadai uniform. A faint, youthful smile bloomed on her lips.
"I don't need that. It's just a drink to me," Makoto replied, setting down his cup. His work didn't involve entertaining clients.
"Then enjoy it yourself. You needn't be polite with me over small matters," Misaki said, her eyes curving in crescent moons. Despite the pleasant morning, Makoto felt a comforting pressure from her presence.
"Very well, thank you." Makoto stood. "Now, where are we headed today?"
"Not to my lab," Misaki laughed, adjusting her white handbag. "Come along with my plan."
…
"So this is your plan?"
They stood on a broad avenue paved in red brick, flanked by rows of leafy trees. All around rose elegant European-style buildings—no concrete or steel in sight. Fountains, sculptures, benches, lampposts, newsstands, street performers, and open-air cafés lined the street.
Rustic, refined, and grand! If adjectives were needed, those three would suffice.
This was the Champs-Élysées of the academy dormitories, modeled after Paris's own. As the gathering place for Academy City's noble young ladies, such opulence was only fitting.
"At the start of any date, one should go shopping," Misaki declared, hands on her hips and brimming with energy.
"This is standard procedure," she continued. The avenue featured top restaurants, high-end fashion brands, and renowned artisans. Here, one could purchase any luxury item in the world.
"There's no such rule," Makoto grumbled. "It's just how women reel men in."
If a man liked a girl, succeeded in asking her out, and she spotted something she adored but wouldn't say "buy it," what must he do? The only answer: buy it for her. If he remained indifferent, the girl wouldn't think about cost—she'd conclude he didn't value her and mentally mark him unworthy.
"Hey, are you equating me with a gold-digger?" Misaki pouted, then steered Makoto forward.
"Since I invited you, I'll cover today's expenses," she said, clasping his arm. "You just need to rate each item."
"Rate?" Makoto echoed.
"Yes. I don't have great fashion sense, so don't expect brilliant suggestions."
Unfazed, he let her pull him along.
"That's fine. I'm more curious about your taste."
Misaki beamed and pointed at a shop called VALENTINO. Her gloved finger was delicate and confident.
"Let's go—gogogo!"
"All right—"
And so they set off down the luxurious avenue.