On the way home, Hitoka couldn't stop praising Jin's performance that day. She even showed him the pictures she'd taken with her camera.
Jin, delighted, grinned to himself. 'As expected, innocent girls couldn't help but to love a handsome male lead.'
When they finally reached Hitoka's house, he suddenly felt a strange chill. Something about the air screamed danger.
Hitoka pressed the intercom. "Mom, I'm home! Jin's with me."
*Click!*
The sound of the door unlocking sent a shiver up Jin's spine. In his head, an eerie theme song suddenly played dramatically in is mind.
He took a deep breath. 'I've faced plenty of women before. Don't panic, Jin. This is just her house.'
Her house.
That thought made his eyebrow twitch. 'Wait… maybe there's an opportunity here.'
The door opened. Standing there was Madoka, dressed in a light green home suit, a faint red smear at the corner of her lips.
Jin froze. 'Is that… blood? Don't tell me this woman's some kind of yokai that drinks blood for dinner?!'
Hitoka followed his gaze and confused. "Mom, what's that on your mouth? It looks like blood!"
"Hm?" Madoka wiped her cheek, blinked in confusion, then laughed. "Ah, this? Tomato sauce. I was cooking soup earlier." She stepped aside and smiled sweetly. "Come in, come in."
"Excuse me…" Jin said, stepping in cautiously.
As he passed, Madoka leaned close, whispering so only he could hear, "Are you sure it's ketchup? Hahaha."
Jin's steps faltered. Out of the corner of his eye, Madoka's grin looked wicked. 'As I thought, this isn't dinner, it's a trap. A full-on boss fight.'
If he showed even a flicker of fear, he'd lose all dignity tonight.
He turned slightly and smirked. "Well, if it's ketchup, I'll know after I taste it."
Madoka raised her hand too late. Jin was already in the room, changing into indoor slippers like he owned the place.
"Madoka-san! You've really outdone yourself tonight! What's on the menu?"
His carefree tone made it sound like his own home. Madoka clenched her fists behind him, muttering, "Stupid brat. You'll learn who's really in charge tonight."
Hitoka returned with two aprons. "Last time I told Mom about your cooking, she was really impressed! She said you should teach her today."
'Teach? Or test me with a kitchen knife?' Jin thought darkly.
"Sure thing," he said with a grin. "I'll cook with Sister Madoka, and you can help, Hitoka-chan."
Hitoka shook her head. "No, I'll leave the cooking to you two. I have something important to finish. When I'm done, I'll show you, don't peek until then!"
"Okay," Madoka added with a smirk, "Hitoka spent three days on it. Look carefully later."
'Three days?' Jin thought. 'She's definitely plotting something.'
But he quickly brushed it off. 'Whatever. Even if the timeline's changed a bit since I came here, that's just part of the fun. Knowing everything ahead of time is boring anyway.'
"Alright then," he said confidently. "Show me later, Hitoka-chan."
Hitoka nodded and dashed off to her room.
Madoka watched the two of them interact, sighing quietly. She couldn't quite figure out what her daughter saw in him. A shameless boy like Jin wasn't her ideal son-in-law.
Still, if he wanted Hitoka's heart, he'd have to survive "Madoka's Trial" first.
"Jin boy," Madoka said, her tone dripping with sarcasm, "come to the kitchen after you wash your hands. I'll go… prepare."
"Roger that!" Jin flashed an OK sign.
'So the day battles are over, and now begins the night war, psychological edition.'
As he washed his hands, Jin stared at his reflection for half a minute, analyzing strategies like a general before war. Then, quietly, he took out his phone, switched to camera mode, and slipped it back into his pocket.
"If I don't win today," he muttered, "there'll be many more ambush dinners like this."
With a resolved, he stepped out of the bathroom, his confidence building with each step toward the kitchen.
But the moment he entered, he froze.
Every kind of knife imaginable lay on the cutting board. Paring knife, fruit knife, cleaver, machete, even a curved blade… and beside them…
…a freaking samurai!
"What kind of cooking needs a samurai?!" he exclaimed inwardly.
Madoka turned, hair slightly messy, playing with a lock between her fingers. "Yo, Jin boy," she said playfully, "which one do you use?"
Jin scratched his head awkwardly. "Madoka-san… mind if I start with the scissors instead?"
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