Sense of Kinship (4)

I kept saying I was sorry.

I was disoriented. Meanwhile, the pain throbbing in my cheek persisted.

While thinking this might be punishment for treating you carelessly, I couldn’t help but continue to beg for forgiveness.

Still holding my stinging cheek, I carefully followed Erica. My vision was narrowed because I had pulled the hood down low.

It was uncomfortable.

When I stood next to Erica, we were in front of the counter. Suddenly, I felt the employee’s gaze above my line of sight. I hurriedly pulled down the hood, but the piece of cloth already pressed down to the limit couldn’t hide my appearance any further.

I looked ahead. I saw cakes. Chocolate, strawberry, lemon, mango.

There were many types. Were there always this many varieties?

It’s because I didn’t know well. Because I was ignorant. Of the outside world.

I looked around. In the quiet interior, I saw walls covered in deep, dark brown shades. The monochromatic color scheme created an antique atmosphere.

Suddenly, my heart started to flutter. It was mysterious.

I bit my lip.

That aside, I’m still maintaining my plan to keep distance. Earlier, I had no choice but to give in when Erica ruthlessly abused me, but I don’t intend to break my resolve in one go.

“What do you like?”

“Americano.”

Apart from answering without thinking, my fondness for Americano was genuine.

“This is a cake shop, you know.”

“Americano-flavored cake.”

“Just eat chocolate cake.”

I don’t like sweet things.

But I didn’t answer. It was my own effort.

We sat at the table. What was placed in front of me was a moderately sized slice of cake. It was chocolate-colored. A deep color.

Since we’re just out for a short break from the Association, it would be strange to eat a large cake.

“……”

Next to it was a green-colored drink.

“What’s this drink?”

“They said it’s melon juice.”

If they have melon juice, shouldn’t they have Americano too?

I was about to complain but just closed my mouth. I’m silently protesting, so persistence is important at this stage.

Anyway, Erica probably didn’t care because she wanted to drink something sweet along with eating something sweet.

Suddenly, irritation welled up.

Ordering as she pleases without permission. In the past, she would have obediently followed my every word.

When I raised my gaze, Erica was cutting her slice of cake into small pieces with a fork.

The piece was neatly divided. The fork was stuck in.

Watching the piece enter her mouth, I fell into contemplation for a moment.

It looks too sweet. I don’t like sweet things. If I have to eat it, I’d prefer it to be so sweet it’s bitter.

Erica’s expression changed moment by moment. Finally, it turned into an ecstatic expression, but when she looked at me, her face immediately hardened.

“…Aren’t you eating?”

I averted my gaze. I kept my mouth tightly shut.

How’s that? My rebellion.

It’s a timid but definite method.

The table isn’t small. We’re facing each other, but there won’t be any unfortunate cheek-pinching incidents.

“Looks like you still haven’t come to your senses.”

I hurriedly opened my mouth.

“…What’s so delicious about this?”

“It is delicious, you know?”

I stuck out my tongue in disgust. It meant it wasn’t delicious at all.

“You have a child’s palate, so you like sweet things.”

“Who’s the most childish here? You’re not in a position to say such things.”

I turned my head sharply, making it clear I had no intention of conversing.

I heard the sound of metal touching the plate. The knife cut the cake and divided it into small cube-like pieces.

Erica picked up the fork once more. A piece of chocolate skewered on the three prongs was lifted casually.

“Try it once.”

“No.”

“Just once.”

“No.”

“Aureli.”

I heard her voice lowered considerably. I shuddered without realizing.

“It would be better if you obediently eat it while I’m asking nicely.”

“……”

Silence fell. Cold sweat broke out.

This isn’t right. It’s my role to say such things.

Listen to me while I’m being nice. If you want to save these hostages.

And so on… right?

The relationship seems to have reversed.

I reluctantly opened my mouth. My eyes had been tightly closed for a while now, so I must look sullen.

“Aum.”

Along with a soft texture, there was a sweet taste. It’s good. No, it’s not good.

I like bitter things.

I opened my eyes. I saw Erica smiling slightly. The extended fork soon moved away.

“You keep whining…”

I desperately held back the urge to spit it out because it was sweet. I chewed the crumbled chocolate remnants that were torturing my tongue bit by bit and swallowed them.

As I was urgently looking for water, I saw the drink beside me.

When I hurriedly put my mouth to the inserted straw, this was sweet too.

It tastes like melon.

There’s nothing bitter. I feel like I’m going crazy.

“How is it? Delicious, right?”

“It’s too sweet.”

“That’s what’s good about it.”

“It’s a child’s palate.”

“But it’s good, isn’t it?”

Do you want to remain a child forever?

Watching Erica cut up the remaining cake and put it in her mouth, I took another sip of the melon juice. It’s still sweet. Of course, I don’t get used to it in two sips.

Actually, sweetness isn’t the problem. Taste is just a momentary stimulation and entertainment. For me, long-term happiness is this kind of daily life. Even when I achieved my first cafe visit while holding my trembling body, even when I went for a walk, I’ve been dreaming of simple times.

Suddenly, I lowered my gaze. There was a half-cut cake. I heard a presence first. I slowly raised my gaze. What I saw was Erica. And the shop behind her.

Cake. Americano. And shaved ice. I still don’t like sweet things.

Maybe I should be happy. Maybe I should be satisfied. Still, you’re living the daily life you wanted with the person you love.

Is it okay to die now?

I should be bowing until my skull cracks, shouting thanks for this ray of light in my miserable life. That’s the only atonement allowed to me who’s spending an excessive amount of time.

I feel like throwing up.

Resignation and anger coexisted with the feeling of nausea rising. There’s still cake left.

I slowly got up. I didn’t want to be caught. This level of seizure is nothing. For me.

“Where are you going?”

Her intuition, looking up at me innocently while holding a fork, was frighteningly scary. People don’t usually ask that, right? Why are you only interested in me at times like this?

I must apologize. I should kneel down and lick her feet while begging for forgiveness for wasting her time. While lowering myself to the bottom.

But I couldn’t do that. Because there wasn’t much time left. This feeling of being able to maintain an expressionless face is also hitting rock bottom. It feels like it’s risen to my esophagus. The liquid.

While repeating to myself that even this is punishment, I buried my face in her nape. Feeling the scent rising from her hair, I counted to 3 inwardly.

Three.

Two.

One.

“W-why are you doing this…?”

I felt her trembling. I detached my face. I staggered as I walked. Stupid. Walk properly. I walked as if creaking. I went straight to the bathroom. I hit my head on the washbasin. I opened my mouth.

I covered my ears.

Thank you. Thank you so much for allowing me to spend an ordinary time. I’m so happy I could die.

But still, I think I should be allowed to spend this much time. I worked hard, didn’t I? I deceived my emotions and acted out expressions. I imitated a person by treating someone kindly.

But is the inside still pitch black? I’m sorry. But I can’t help it. Because I’m this kind of species. A dirty beast that has fallen to the bottom of the cliff.

Then has nothing changed? But I, really, tried so hard. I wandered.

I guess I still couldn’t understand. About something like me.

Who am I constantly begging to? I couldn’t know the subject, but the countless letters pouring down in my head only awakened instinctive sensations.

A cool calmness envelops my body again. Indescribable emotions are vomited out.

I turned on the faucet. I washed my hands first in the pouring water, then lightly washed my lips. While looking in the mirror, I checked if there were any marks on my skin and turned around.

I walked. I crawled through the light shining from the lamp. I returned to my seat. Erica met my gaze.

“Ah, um. I had a cough.”

You don’t get up from your seat just because you had a cough.

Silence fell. She, quick to pick up on things, said nothing. The kind her maintained silence.

“Shall we go now?”

A cold voice flowed.

“No. I’m not sick.”

Why are you saying that yourself?

Snow-white pupils started to scrutinize me. I acted as calmly as possible.

“Something, something got on my hand.”

Did my voice tremble? Maybe not. I don’t know.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

I nodded my head in a docile posture. Slowly, as leisurely as possible.

“Come here.”

A square table that could seat four people. Erica patted the seat next to her with a kind face. I got up from my seat and gently lowered myself into the seat next to her.

The hood came off.

A hand approached. My hair started to be violated again. I slowly blinked while quietly feeling the texture of my hair.

The fork also came closer. A piece of chocolate was stuck on it.

“Ah.”

“Ah…”

When I opened my mouth, the sweet taste melted my tongue. The intense flavor disappeared beyond, and a soft texture moistened the inside of my mouth.

I swallowed.

“How is it?”

“…Sweet.”

I wonder if she caught on. I’m scared. There’s no way she wouldn’t have noticed after I acted so stupidly.

No. She won’t know unless she asks.

“Urp.”

The sweet taste swept through my mouth again. I quietly chewed the cake without being able to resist.

“Here’s the juice.”

“Mm…”

I sucked on the straw with it in my mouth.

“That’s right.”

It feels like I’m being raised.

I wonder if she’s already figured everything out.

If so, should I obediently listen to what she says?

As weak as I am, there was nothing I could understand.