Chapter 58.


    <b>Chapter 58. A Peaceful Day Together with my Girlfriend. (2/2)</b>


    <span style="font-weight:400">When she noticed my bizarre actions, she raised a brow, tilted her head, and asked, “What are you doing?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Paying tribute in advance for this feast you’re preparing.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“It’s just breakfast, it can hardly be called a feast.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I didn’t mean my mouth.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Trying to decipher my meaning she looked down at the frying pan over the stove in her hands thoughtfully.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh!”


    <span style="font-weight:400">It seems she’d understood.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Jeez, you could just be more honest, you know.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“If you ask me, I am being quite honest though.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, more direct. Just say it directly~ directly, you got that~?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Then… please don’t mind me while I take a front-row seat to watch you continue with your work.” I walked behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist then looked over her shoulder while she busied her hands cracking eggs in a bowl, adding salt and seasoning in it, before finally dumping it in the frying pan with some oil


    <span style="font-weight:400">She started humming happily to herself while her body swayed a bit in my arms.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I was just watching the eggs fry in the pan, yes, that was all. I wasn’t watching anything else at all.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I definitely wasn’t peeking at the region between the unbuttoned shirt she had on. It definitely wasn’t overwhelmingly erotic or suggestive or anything either.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I had no such stray thoughts. There were only eggs. Yeah, the soft, supple, fluffy, delectable-looking eggs.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Damn it, I’m slowly being corrupted by this sly woman. I’ll be a sinful man because of her; definitely. I’ll probably be useless too. She’s always feeding me my food, right?


    <span style="font-weight:400">I can’t help it. If given the option between saving and expending energy, I’m thezy type to save it. Will I really be okay at this rate? Will I even want to work for a living anymore if I have this girl?


    <span style="font-weight:400">Ah… I really think I might be screwed.


    <span style="font-weight:400">The old me definitely, <b>definitely</b><span style="font-weight:400">, would never be caught dead doing the things I’m doing with this girl.


    <span style="font-weight:400">When I’m together with her, I keep getting drawn closer and closer to her. If she was a ck hole, I probably already passed the event horizon. I likely had no hope of returning. It was toote for me.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I’m bing a degenerate. Well, in all honesty… who am I really trying to fool? Have I read the shit I’ve written as an author? I’m long past degenerate and approaching a term that has yet to even be invented yet. A degenerist piece of scum. A hybrid cross between a degenerate and a terrorist. I spread degeneracy to the masses.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Wait, does the term really not exist yet though? It shouldn’t, right? I don’t think it was around yet.


    <span style="font-weight:400">It was a term from the future after all.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Curious, I pulled out the phone and did a search for the term online. Nope… it seems it doesn’t exist just yet.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What are you doing now?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Sorry, I just thought of something and I needed to confirm it wasn’t a thing.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“At least put your phone away when you’re holding me like this, I only want you to look at me when we’re all alone together like this. If you don''t, it feels like I’m losing to your phone. My womanly pride will be greatly hurt and I may never recover. Would you like to leave me scarred for life?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Haha, sorry, sorry, my bad. But a scar for life? Hmm… what if I said I did?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh? And how would you scar me?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“How does a man usually scar a woman?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Cheating on them?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I nearly fell over.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“C-Certainly… I suppose that is one way. I can’t deny that. I wouldn’t… ah… the toast is burning.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Ah! You’re right! You distracted me and I forgot! No, it’s going to smell like burnt toast in here now.” She had an anguished expression on her face when she thought about it.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I released her then quickly popped the toast out of the toaster and tied it up in a bag to prevent the smell from spreading further.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Can you put some more up?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Sure, I can at least do that.” At the very least, I hadn’t bepletely useless yet.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Can you open the balcony window to air out the ce a bit?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“It’s pretty cold though.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Ugh, I forgot it’s winter because of how warm it is in here.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, we could open it for a bit. It gives me the excuse to stick close to you and keep you warm, doesn’t it?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, true, true. Do it, do it.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I entered the living room area and slid the balcony window open a bit in hopes of getting rid of the smell of burnt toast.


    <span style="font-weight:400">It was seriously chilly though. Just standing near it for a second I was hit by a gust of cold wind and a shiver ran down my back.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I retreated back to the kitchen where the heat from the pan provided me a sense of relief. I wrapped my arms back around her to ruthlessly steal her body heat for myself.


    <span style="font-weight:400">A small yelp escaped from her as she gasped in unexpectedly when I embraced her this time, “Hya! Your hands are cold.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“The wind shows no mercy in this city. A single gust here and you end up like this. It’s really the worst. What kind of awful city even has such unreasonably extreme weather conditions like this? Minus 50 with the windchill in winters and plus 50 on the hottest summer days. Who was the bastard who thought it was a good idea to build a city in this hell hole?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Agreed. It’s absurd, isn’t it?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Out of curiosity, since your parents travel to so many different ces, why’d you choose a ce like this?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well… I guess you could say it was for the extreme temperatures, more specifically, to build up a resistance to them. But… now I probably don’t need to worry about that I guess.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh? Why not?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“The eggs are done. Pop the toast out, it should be good enough.” She dodged the question and didn’t answer. Well, she might have just wanted us to eat while the food was hot rather than dodging the question. It might have just been a long story.


    <span style="font-weight:400">We returned to her room and closed the door. We ate our breakfast together, her feeding me as usual. She’d tear off bits of the toast, wrap it around pieces of the egg then push it into my mouth.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Honestly, it made me want to start eating breakfast more often if it would be an enjoyable experience like this. Once the te was empty, we closed the balcony window in the living room and let the ce warm back up while snuggling together on the couch with the TV on in the background.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Overall, the day went pretty great. I went to work and returned back to her ce afterward where I was greeted by another home-cooked meal made fresh and still hot.


    <span style="font-weight:400">By the end of these two weeks of cohabitation, I was genuinely concerned as to whether I’d be able to go back to living alone. Had this been her n from the beginning? It was all just a ploy of hers to ensnare and trap me here? So I could never live without her again. This woman was... truly nefarious, I couldn’t help but think that.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Still, I’d already agreed and I was the type to follow through on my words. I wouldn’t go back on them. That was the excuse I came up with to not care about it and allow myself to indulge in this pleasant, foreign warm feeling engulfing me. I was drowning myself in it headfirst and forgetting about the potential repercussions for once.


    <span style="font-weight:400">If it turns out that way… is it really such a bad thing? That is… to allow myself to change? To fully embrace this irrational thing called love to which I don’t understand?


    <span style="font-weight:400">They often say love changes people, don’t they?


    <span style="font-weight:400">Having finally experienced it first hand, I guess this was what they really meant.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Change is… scary. It is a scary thing. That is, not knowing whether the change will be a good or bad thing. It makes me anxious.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Wait. Anxious? Me? Anxious... since when? Since when did I have true anxieties? In the past, I feel like I didn’t. I just mindlessly ran ahead full speed on the path in front of me while never looking back.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Was it since I met her? It might have been. The first time I knew of true anxieties was her stare that followed me everywhere which had me constantly on edge. Before that, nothing ever entered my world. My eyes were always on the ground ahead of me. When I reached a dead end, I simply took a branch and started something new.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I never looked back though.


    <span style="font-weight:400">She forced me to look back with that gaze of hers always on me.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Haaaah. What does this even matter?


    <span style="font-weight:400">It just leads me back to the fact that the root of all evil, my problems, was her.