In an instant, Kikukawa Kyo's expression vanished without a trace. Her movements stuttered, like a rusted machine caught in a glitch, and the warmth in her friendly smile disappeared entirely.
She was still like water—yet not the kind that flows, but a stagnant, lifeless pool, devoid of any living presence. In Mutsumi's mind, that was the image she conjured.
But it was only for a fleeting moment. Almost immediately, Kikukawa Kyo returned to her usual demeanor—relaxed yet bound by the etiquette of a bartender. She gave a slight bow.
"Understood. One mango juice. Please wait a moment."
As if everything Mutsumi had just seen was merely an illusion. And she wished that the Kyo standing before her now was her true self, not the suffocating, lifeless entity from moments ago.
Mutsumi felt a chill run through her. That brief moment where the surface of Kyo's serene facade cracked—it reminded her too much of home. Cold, oppressive, devoid of warmth.
She had misspoken again. Just like that rainy day before. CRYCHIC was supposed to be the place where she felt most at ease, the one place she could be free. And yet, she kept choosing the wrong words. If Sakiko had hurt the band, then without a doubt, Mutsumi had been an accomplice, inflicting a second wound.
But Kikukawa Kyo had no time to concern herself with Mutsumi's thoughts. The sharp clack of her low-heeled shoes echoed briskly across the floor as she walked to the bar. With an air of casual normalcy, she waved at Izumo.
"Izumo-san, could you make me a drink? Anything's fine. I'll be making a mango juice for a customer."
"Sure thing." Izumo nodded.
She had been stationed behind the bar the whole time and hadn't seen Kyo's face when she was speaking with Mutsumi. The distance also made it impossible for her to catch their conversation.
And now, Kikukawa Kyo looked perfectly fine.
Both she and Izumo were highly skilled bartenders. Within a few minutes, they had each finished preparing their respective drinks.
Kyo retrieved a round tray, temporarily taking on the role of a server as well. She placed both the mango juice and the lemon tea Izumo had made for her on the tray. Spreading the fingers of her left hand, she lifted the tray with practiced ease while her right hand rested behind her back. Her posture straightened—
As a bartender, she could afford to be more relaxed, but as a server, she had to be formal, restrained, and meticulously polite.
"Here you go, Miss Mutsumi. Your mango juice."
Kyo stood beside the table, maintaining proper etiquette—never directly facing the customer, never openly observing them. When retrieving an item from the tray, her gaze followed the movement of her right hand as she set the glass down.
She placed the mango juice securely in front of Mutsumi.
Mutsumi, however, was at a loss. She didn't understand what Kyo was thinking anymore. The thin veil of water was back, but it was only a delicate layer now—so fragile that it felt like it might dissolve at any moment.
Yet, for now, that same facade, which had confused her earlier, brought her an odd sense of relief. Because—
"Kyo, you're moving again."
Still in "server mode," Kikukawa Kyo accepted the cryptic remark without hesitation, responding with the utmost sincerity,
"My apologies for losing composure earlier."
She then placed her own glass of lemon tea on the opposite side of the table. Holding the tray with both hands, she lowered herself into a formal bow. If she was going to play the role, she would see it through to the end.
But the moment the performance was over, she shed the persona in an instant.
Releasing the tray with her right hand, she spun it smoothly with her left before tucking it under her arm. Then, with zero hesitation, she plopped down into the seat across from Mutsumi, crossed her legs, and grabbed her glass of lemon tea.
With a swift motion, she tilted her head back and took a deep drink.
The speed of the transition left Mutsumi reeling—it rivaled the level of performance artistry she had grown up witnessing in her own family.
Mutsumi watched Kikukawa Kyo down her lemon tea in large gulps for a while before remembering that she, too, had a drink sitting in front of her. Absentmindedly, she wrapped both hands around the glass and gently placed her lips around the vibrant, sunset-red straw that Kyo had deliberately chosen to complement the bright golden hue of the mango juice—just like the skin of an Australian mango, golden yellow with a soft, reddish blush. She took small, careful sips.
Kyo, on the other hand, had nearly drained half of her lemon tea in one go, letting the liquid cool her from the inside like a makeshift water-cooling system. Though she had already adjusted her mindset, drinking something helped her settle down completely.
As she lowered her glass, she glanced at Mutsumi, who looked as harmless and endearing as ever—so much so that it gave her a headache.
Damn it, Mutsumi really did a number on me this time…
She had always assumed that if anyone were to step on a landmine, it would be her accidentally triggering one of Mutsumi's. Yet, somehow, it was Mutsumi who had blown her up instead.
Ever since she built up her mental defenses, she had rarely encountered situations where someone could see through her facade. In her early, less experienced days, there had been people who suspected, but in the end, she always managed to bluff her way out of it.
Had she lost her sense of caution because it had been so long since she last faced something like this? When Mutsumi bluntly tore through her defenses just now, a wave of revulsion gripped her insides so tightly that she had almost felt the urge to vomit.
But Kikukawa Kyo was not someone who dry-heaved. If she ever did, things would get ugly.
"Mutsumi, you were asking why I put up a facade, weren't you?"
Setting her glass back on the table, Kyo clasped her hands together and rested them naturally on her crossed knee. She looked as if she had completely let the matter go, casually revisiting the question Mutsumi had asked earlier.
Mutsumi shook her head.
"Changed your mind already?" Kyo chuckled helplessly. "Don't be like that, Mutsumi. I can't always read your mind, you know."
"But you do understand what I mean every time, Kyo…" Mutsumi tilted her head slightly.
"Ah, that." Kyo scratched the back of her head. "That's probably because you're just that straightforward. You don't say much, and your movements are subtle, but whenever you show something, it's always a clear reflection of what you're thinking. It takes a lot of effort to pick up on, sure, but once I put in the work, it's easy to understand."
That being said, you barely talk at all most of the time…
"If you have something on your mind, it's best to just say it directly. Not just to me, but to others too."
"But it hurts people… Even just now, Kyo, you were hurt too."
Kyo slowly mulled over each word Mutsumi had just spoken. Understanding her required more than just keen eyesight.
The phrase even just now caught her attention. It suggested that Mutsumi's bluntness had hurt others before—and that before today, Kyo had always managed to interpret her correctly.
So all that energy I spent focusing during our conversations really did pay off, huh?
Her thoughts naturally drifted back to that rainy day when Sakiko left the band…
If Mutsumi had ever wounded someone because of her precise and unfiltered way of speaking, to the point where it left a lingering shadow in her heart, that day was the most likely culprit.
If that was the case, then Kyo must have been the only exception in Mutsumi's mind—the one person she could talk to freely without fear of misunderstanding. After all, she hadn't been there that day, and on top of that, she was usually the one who understood Mutsumi best.
Even if it was only a partial understanding of her actions, Mutsumi did seem more at ease when talking to her.
And yet, just now, Kyo had pressured her again.
Seeing Mutsumi growing even more hesitant, her lips pressing together tighter than before, Kyo's headache worsened. No way, did I just make her even more withdrawn?
She sighed.
If Mutsumi could see through the way she carried herself so clearly, then maybe… loosening her guard a little wouldn't be the end of the world.
Mutsumi didn't talk much—there was no way she'd go around spilling secrets.
"Mutsumi, you can't just give up on expressing yourself because you're not good at it. That's the same as hating yourself."
Kyo picked up her glass again, swirling the liquid inside. The distorted reflection of her face wavered in the tea.
"When you start hating yourself, it's really painful. That's just… speaking from experience."
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T/N: dont worry bonus chaps will be released on sunday
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