The sterile silence of the White Room was gone.
Instead, Kiyotaka Ayanokoji stood under a pale blue sky, outside the gates of Chidori High School. The breeze carried the scent of clean earth and early spring blossoms. For the first time in his life, the air didn't taste like metal or recycled oxygen.
He walked slowly, each step measured. His uniform was crisp, freshly pressed. A backpack—something he never needed before—hung lightly from his shoulder.
No guards. No cameras. No orders.
After a short and quiet day of classes, Kiyotaka wandered into the shopping district near the school. Not because he was lost—he had memorized the map days ago. But because he was curious.
Curious about something completely foreign.
He stopped in front of a quaint little shop.
"Café Fleur Douce – Specialty Cakes & Fragrant Teas." ( idk🤷♂️)
A warm bell rang as he stepped inside. The scent of vanilla, fruit, and sugar hit him at once. Everything was soft: the lighting, the walls, the lace curtains, and the hum of quiet conversation. A glass case glittered with colorful slices of cake, each topped with glistening fruit or elegant cream.
She looked up and met his eyes. "Welcome!"
Kiyotaka approached the counter, scanning the labels: Strawberry Shortcake. Matcha Mousse. Mont Blanc. Chocolate Ganache. Lemon Chiffon.
"Do you need help choosing?" the young man asked with a grin. "First-timer?"
Kiyotaka nodded slightly. "I don't know which to pick. What would you choose?"
The girl's expression brightened with interest. "Depends. What do you normally get?"
He looked at her blankly. "I've never had any before."
Her violet eyes widened slightly. "You've never had cake?"
"No."
She blinked, then smiled. "Well, that won't do."
She turned to the other employee. "Kenji, I'll handle this one."
Kenji chuckled and stepped aside.
He hesitated a moment, then shook her hand. "Kiyotaka Ayanokoji."
"Ayanokoji-kun, huh?" she said thoughtfully, then tapped the glass with her finger. "We'll start you off right. You get to try them all."
Before he could object, she carefully boxed miniature slices of every cake in the case. "Don't worry, I'm covering it. First-time cake deserves to be special."
Kiyotaka sat by the window as she brought the tray over. The cakes were cut small, each piece plated beautifully.
"Eat them in this order," she said, lining them up: strawberry shortcake, then matcha, then lemon, chocolate, chestnut, and blueberry. "It's all about balance. You start light, build up richness, then finish with something bright."
He took the first bite.
The soft sponge melted with fresh cream and strawberries. His face barely changed—but he paused, longer than expected. Waguri watched him closely.
"And?"
"...It's good."
She beamed. "I'll take that as high praise."
He worked through each cake slowly, cleanly. His mind noted the textures, flavors, layering, temperature contrast. But more than anything—it was pleasant.
They talked idly between bites. She teased his stoic nature. He responded honestly. No games. No manipulation. Just... simple words. Honest reactions.
When the last bite was done, Waguri stood and stretched. "Well, I have to head out. Glad I got to be your cake tutor, Ayanokoji-kun."
He gave a small nod. "Thank you. For the recommendation."
"Next time," she said, slipping out the door with a wave, "you can treat me."
He watched her disappear around the corner.
Then, wordlessly, he stood and began gathering his trash, organizing the table. It was instinct. Tidiness was part of his life, even in freedom.
As he approached the counter with the tray, Kenji raised an eyebrow. "Whoa. Most people just leave their stuff."
"I see no reason to do that."
Kenji smiled. "You're definitely not from around here."
Then he frowned. "Oh—wait. Waguri left her notebook. She always writes down stuff in here—recipes, poetry, even her café schedule."
Kiyotaka looked down at the pink leather-bound book.
"She paid for all the cake," Kenji added. "It'd suck if she lost this."
Without hesitation, Kiyotaka took the notebook. "Which direction?"
Kenji pointed. "Left past the florist, then the covered alley. She lives near the old bookstore."
Kiyotaka was out the door before Kenji could say another word.
The wind had picked up. Shadows stretched long down the narrow street. He moved quickly, scanning corners, until he turned and spotted her at the edge of an alley.
Then he stopped.
Two guys stood in front of her, blocking the sidewalk.
One leaned too close, laughing. The other stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes watching her like prey.
Waguri's voice was calm but firm. "I'm not interested. Please move."
The taller guy grinned. "C'mon, don't be like that. Pretty girl like you shouldn't walk home alone."
Kiyotaka stood just out of sight, still as stone.
I could walk away. She's not my problem. I delivered the notebook. That's all I had to do.
He tightened his grip slightly.
The old me wouldn't have cared. He wouldn't have lifted a finger unless ordered to.
But I'm not in the White Room anymore.
If I really want to live a better life... I have to act like it.