Wow… this is amazing.
No—shocking, actually. To find out that Selene cooks? I mean, sure, she lives alone with Ice, but I wasn't expecting her to be the one doing the cooking. I swear this is a lot to process.
"What is she cooking?" I whispered to Ice, who sat quietly beside me at the kitchen table. But, as always, Ice wouldn't say anything. His expression didn't even twitch. Was he secretly amused? No way. He's Ice.
So we both just sat there, silently, watching Selene move around the kitchen. Her silver hair shimmered under the lights as she reached for bowls, spices, vegetables—God knows what she was cooking. My head tilted unconsciously. The way she moved… it wasn't clumsy or rushed like I imagined. It was elegant, like she was performing some kind of ritual.
I glanced around the room to distract myself.
But first… this kitchen. Wow. It looked so modern, so beautiful. Sleek counters, polished silver handles, everything clean and sparkling. And then—flowers. Yes, flowers. The walls had these delicate patterns of lilies etched into them, glowing faintly against the icy-blue design.
Nice artwork, Author Lee. I will give you the flowers.
"Umm… Ice, come help me with the vegetables," Selene said suddenly, her voice gentle but commanding.
Ice immediately stood up—like, no hesitation at all—and rushed over to her side. He started peeling potatoes with the efficiency of someone who'd been doing it for years.
I blinked. Should I help too? I mean, she didn't call me, but maybe she needed my assistance… right? What kind of guest just sat there, watching someone else cook? Maybe… maybe I should ask.
"Emm… Selene, do you… em…" I started awkwardly, still sitting in my chair. My voice came out smaller than I expected. "…need my help?" I finally managed to finish, biting my lip.
She turned, her calm, queen-like smile aimed right at me. "Don't worry, Kisaragi. You are my guest. Feel at home."
Easy for her to say. I really wasn't.
My chest tightened. I had to do something, right? Just sitting here made me feel useless.
"What do you want me to do, Selene?" I asked, this time standing up. My feet carried me forward before I even realized it. I walked toward her and Ice, who was already busy cutting the potatoes into perfect cubes.
"I said sit down, Kisaragi," Selene said firmly without looking at me.
"No," I said stubbornly, crossing my arms.
"Sit down," she repeated, narrowing her eyes.
"No," I shot back again, my chin tilted up proudly.
We went back and forth like that, the air thick with unspoken tension until finally, she gave in with a sigh, placing her hand on her hip.
"Fine. Here—you can chop the green onions."
"Thank you," I said quickly, almost too eagerly, as she handed me the onions, a chopping board, and a knife. I gripped them, determined. This was my moment. I was ready to—
Oh goodness. Maybe I should have just sat down when she told me to.
I stared at the knife like it was a weapon from another world. My hand trembled slightly as I held it, and I awkwardly placed the onions on the board. Ready to—
"You have to rinse it first," Selene's voice interrupted.
"Ehn?!" I blurted out, whipping my head up to look at her.
"I said you have to rinse it," she repeated patiently, though her sharp eyes were fixed on me.
Oh my god. She was staring at me. Staring. Like she could see right through me.
My throat went dry. I swallowed hard, fumbled with the onions, and rushed over to rinse them under the sink. The water splashed against my hands, cool and biting, almost grounding me back to reality. Somehow, I managed to bring them back to the cutting board.
Now… the hard part.
"Em… how do you… em, cut the green onions?" I asked, my voice embarrassingly small under her gaze.
Selene tilted her head, studying me carefully, and then her lips curved slightly. "Kisaragi… you don't know how to cook, right?"
The way she said it—it almost sounded like she was mocking me.
"What! No— I mean, obviously I do know how to cook, hahaha," I laughed awkwardly, my cheeks heating up. I tried to cover my shame, but this was humiliating. Absolutely humiliating. My hands shook just holding the knife. What was I even thinking, pretending I knew what I was doing?
"Let me show you how it's done," Selene said softly, her voice lowering in a way that made my heart stutter.
And then—she stepped closer.
My body froze.
She stood behind me, her presence enveloping me like a shadow of warmth. Her hands slid gently over mine, her fingers cool but steady as they wrapped around my clumsy grip on the knife.
"You… you shouldn't hold me. You might get a shock," I said quickly, panicking. I tried to step away.
But she didn't let go.
Her hands stayed on mine. Firm, steady, unyielding.
Her face brushed close, hovering near my shoulder.
My heart skipped—then started racing.
Oh my gosh. My heart can't take this.
Selene's hands tightened slightly, grounding me. Her calm breath brushed against my ear, and I swear the room tilted.
"Hold it like this," she murmured, her voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down my spine. She adjusted my fingers carefully on the handle of the knife, her touch both commanding and gentle.
My chest tightened. Why does this feel like more than just cooking?
"Not too stiff… relax your grip," she continued, her tone soft, instructive, intimate. "If you hold it too hard, you'll tire yourself out. Like this—it should feel natural."
Her hand guided mine downward, pressing gently. The blade sliced through the onion cleanly, a sharp sound cutting the silence.
"See?" Selene whispered, her lips curving faintly. "Now move your hand back a little, and just… rock the knife. Slowly. Steady."
Her cheek nearly grazed mine. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure she could hear it.
"Like this?" I asked, my voice shaky as I tried to breathe evenly, following her rhythm.
"Yes," she said, smiling faintly. "Perfect."
The word lingered in the air, heavier than it should. She was only teaching me to cut onions—so why did it feel like she was teaching me something else entirely?
Seriously, my heart can't take this anymore! If she keeps this up, I might just do something reckless—and I know I'll regret it later!
"Ahhhhhhh!" I yelped suddenly, dropping the knife like it burned me.
I quickly pulled away from her warmth, stumbling back. My hand clutched at my chest as if that would calm my racing heart. "I–I think I'll just sit down instead," I blurted out, my voice embarrassingly high-pitched.
Selene tilted her head, an amused smirk tugging at her lips. She turned back to the counter, resuming her cooking with practiced ease. Like nothing happened.
That smirk though—it said everything.
It said she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
"Cough, cough—Selene," I tried to compose myself, pretending to clear my throat, "what are you cooking?"
"Soba," she answered simply, her voice light, almost playful.
"Ehhh?!" My jaw dropped.
Of course. She's still obsessed with that food!