Raizel returned home and immediately turned on his PC.
The glow of the screen reflected in his crimson eyes as he opened his email. A message from Haruno Yukinoshita – Fujikawa Bunko waited at the top of his inbox.
He replied, suggesting a meeting at a café that Saturday to discuss serialization terms and contract details.
Her response came ten minutes later.
[Saturday, 10:30 AM. Table 12. I'll be waiting.]
He closed the laptop.
Then picked up his phone.
He dialed Sayuri.
She answered on the second ring.
"Rai-chan?" Sayuri asked happily.
"I won."
A brief silence.
"…Won what?"
"The Fujikawa Bunko competition. Sword Art Online took first place."
There was a sharp intake of breath.
"Wait— what?"
Her voice rose in disbelief.
"SAO? That SAO?!"
He blinked.
"You are familiar with it?"
"Familiar?!" she almost laughed. "I'm a loyal fan!"
Raizel paused.
"How?"
"It was all over the Fujikawa Bunko website," she said excitedly. "Eriri found it first. She wouldn't stop recommending it to me. Said it was the best thing she's read in years."
His steps stilled.
"Eriri… recommended it?"
"Yes. She kept talking about Kirito and the death game concept. I read it out of curiosity and—"
She softened.
"I fell in love with it."
Silence lingered.
"You didn't know it was mine?"
"No! And you promised," she added, feigning anger, "that if you ever wrote a novel, I'd be the first to know."
"I intended to tell you." Raizel quickly added .
"Mm-hm?"
"I did not want to appear foolish if it failed."
There was a pause.
Then Sayuri burst into laughter.
"You idiot."
He didn't respond.
"I would love your work even if it flopped," she said gently. "I'd love anything you created."
His chest felt warm.
"You are biased."
"Of course I am."
They exchanged a few more quiet words — small affections wrapped in casual tones — before the call ended.
Raizel stared at the screen for a moment.
Eriri had read it.
And liked it.
That knowledge lingered longer than the victory itself.
Time skip to Saturday morning
Raizel got up early and prepared meticulously. Shower, grooming. Precision.
He wore a fitted black long-sleeve shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. White trousers. Black sneakers. A silver cross earring glinting from his left ear.
Effortless.
When he entered the café, conversations subtly lowered.
Several patrons glanced up.
Then stared.
He ignored them.
His gaze located Table 12 by the window.
A woman with shoulder-length black hair sat quietly, watching pedestrians pass by outside. Composed. Elegant. Lost in thought.
He approached.
"Hello. Are you Miss Yukinoshita?"
She nodded without turning.
"Yes, that's—"
She faced him.
And froze.
Her eyes widened.
"…Cadis-senpai?"
His expression sharpened.
"How do you know my name?"
She stood abruptly.
"I—I saw your photo before. At my teacher's house."
"Your teacher?"
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"…This teacher would not happen to be Shizuka Hiratsuka?"
Haruno blinked.
"You know Shizuka-sensei?"
"She was my teacher."
Haruno nodded quickly.
"She was my homeroom teacher in high school. I saw your picture at her apartment once. She mentioned you."
Raizel absorbed that quietly.
So the familiarity in her voice hadn't been coincidence.
They sat. The discussion turned professional. Royalty percentages, Volume release schedule, Editorial revisions, Marketing positioning.
Haruno was sharp and analytical.
Within an hour, they reached agreement.
He signed.
Haruno watched his hand as he wrote. She found his handwriting to be very elegant just like he looked.
When he finished, she hesitated, before gathering her courage to ask.
"…Would you like to have lunch together?"
There was a slight hopeful edge to her tone.
"I must decline."
Her shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly.
He added gently,
"I will treat you another time."
She smiled faintly.
"I'll hold you to that."
After escorting Haruno to the train station, Raizel decided to visit a nearby manga store.
He wanted the latest volumes of a few series he had grown fond of.
The bell above the bookstore door chimed as he entered.
And immediately—
Thud.
He collided with someone rushing out.
"Apologies."
He reached out instinctively, steadying the person before they could fall.
A female.
Green tracksuit.
Cap low over her head.
Mask.
Glasses.
"I'm fine," she said, voice unnaturally deep. "Don't worry."
He studied her briefly.
The voice was forced.
But he said nothing.
She tried to walk past him.
And tripped.
This time she fell backward.
Raizel caught her effortlessly.
But her disguise did not survive.
The cap slipped off.
The mask fell.
The glasses clattered to the floor.
Long blonde twin-tails spilled free.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Eriri."
She froze in his arms.
Red.
Flustered.
"L-Let go!"
He helped her stand properly.
"May I have a few minutes of your time?"
She hesitated.
Then nodded stiffly.
They sat across from each other.
The same café.
An awkward silence stretched between them.
Raizel attempted small talk.
"How have your studies been?"
"…Fine."
"I see."
Another pause.
He was surprisingly bad at this.
He inhaled quietly.
Then looked directly into her eyes.
"I would like to speak about your mother."
Her expression tightened.
"Can we not—"
"Please." Raizel said almost pleading
"Listen to me for a few minutes. Then decide as you wish. I will respect it."
She crossed her arms.
"…Fine."
He told her everything.
High school club days.
His feelings.
Their recent reconnection.
The date.
And the moment she walked in.
His voice remained steady.
Then he added quietly,
"If you ever felt like I was taking your mother away from you, that was never my intention."
His hands tightened subtly.
"I do not wish to stand between a mother and her daughter."
His knuckles turned pale.
"If your happiness requires that I let her go… I will."
Eriri stared.
Stunned.
This wasn't manipulation.
It wasn't bravado.
He was serious.
Her chest tightened.
What kind of man offers to give up the woman he loves for her child's comfort?
"…What's your deal?" she muttered. "Are you trying to win me over like asking for permission to marry her or something?"
He looked at her — almost gently.
"For now, simply allow me to ask her out."
She blinked.
"And when you are comfortable, we will take the next step."
She huffed.
"I'm not looking for a stepfather, you know."
He smiled faintly.
"I am not attempting to replace anyone."
Silence.
Then—
"…Fine."
She looked away.
"You can try."
Relief flickered across his face, subtle but real.
"I will visit properly next time."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You better not just sit there looking cool."
"I will cook."
She blinked.
"You can cook?"
He paused.
"…I will learn."
Eriri smirked.
"Good luck with that."
As they left the café, Raizel thought quietly:
How difficult can it be?
Surely cooking could not be harder.
…Right?
School begins once again on Monday with Raizel carrying out his duties as an English teacher.
Raizel stood in the faculty lounge doorway.
"…Mrs. Yamada."
The middle-aged home economics teacher looked up from her tea.
"Oh? Raizel-sensei? What is it?"
"I would like to request a favor."
She blinked.
"Of course?"
"I would like to learn how to cook."
Silence.
Then a delighted smile.
"Well! That's admirable! For a special someone?"
He did not answer.
Which was answer enough.
The first day was… catastrophic.
Raizel stared at the stove.
"…How does one ignite this?"
Mrs. Yamada blinked.
"You turn the knob."
He turned the wrong knob. The wrong burner flared. He nearly dropped the pan. The knife work was worse.
Chop.
Miss.
Nick.
"…Are you bleeding?" Mrs.Yamada asked worried.
"It is insignificant."
It was not insignificant.
By the end of the session, he had bandages on three fingers and had somehow burned scrambled eggs.
Burned.
Eggs.
On the second day, he mistook sugar for salt.
On the third day, he sliced vegetables with such intensity that Mrs. Yamada physically took the knife from him.
"Raizel-sensei," she said gently but firmly, "you are banned from my kitchen."
"…Banned?"
"You are a danger to yourself and the ingredients."
He bowed slightly.
"I apologize."
He left the home economics room in silence.
Cooking was… unexpectedly brutal.
On his way home, he sent Sayuri a message.
[What is your favorite dish? And Eriri's?]
The reply came quickly.
[That's random. Why?]
He hesitated.
Then told her about his conversation with Eriri on Saturday.
There was a long pause.
When Sayuri replied, her tone had softened.
[You told her all that…?]
[Yes.]
[…Rai-chan.]
He could almost see her expression.
[I love beef stew.]
[Eriri loves hamburg steak.]
Raizel inhaled sharply.
Beef stew?
He couldn't fry eggs.
Now he aimed for stew?
[Why are you asking?]
There it was.
The question.
He paused.
Should he bluff?
Maintain dignity?
No.
Not with her.
[I attempted to learn cooking.]
[I was removed from the classroom for safety reasons.]
Three seconds.
Then—
She sent a laughing emoji.
[You got kicked out?!]
[I injured myself several times.]
[Rai-chan!]
Her laughter was unrestrained now.
Then softer.
[Do you want me to teach you?]
He didn't hesitate.
[Yes.]
...
For over a week, they video-called every evening.
"Lower the heat!"
"It is lowered."
"That's still too high!"
He learned: knife grip, proper seasoning, browning meat without cremating it.
Patience.
Sayuri guided him step by step.
Sometimes Eriri's voice could be heard in the background.
"Is he still burning stuff?"
"I can hear you," Raizel would reply calmly.
Gradually, his movements became smoother.
Controlled.
He practiced alone afterward, replaying tutorials online.
Love, it seemed, was an excellent motivator.
.....
Finally it was the day to go to the Sawamura household. He dressed casually this time — dark jeans, a fitted sweater.
Sayuri had specifically warned him not to look "too handsome."
He stopped at a convenience store for fresh ingredients.
Then arrived at the Sawamura residence.
The door opened.
Sayuri smiled softly.
"You came."
"I said I would."
She looked like she wanted to say more — but instead apologized.
"I'm so sorry. Eriri and I have to leave for Comiket. We're selling her latest doujinshi."
Raizel nodded, he already knew, Eriri was the famous Kashiwagi Eri-sensei.
"I will manage." he said not wanting them to feel too guilty.
"We'll be back by four."
"Dinner will be ready by then, don't stay out too late and please look out for each other" Raizel said to Sayuri affectionately.
Her expression warmed.
Then she left with Eriri.
Raizel cooked himself a simple breakfast.
Bacon and eggs with a glass of orange juice. There were no kitchen fires or blood from finger cuts, Raizel sure had come a long way.
He cleaned the living room lightly. Wiped the counters. Organized the kitchen.
After 2 PM, he began. He started prepping the beef stew first , hamburg steak after .
He followed Sayuri's instructions carefully.
Brown the meat.
Deglaze.
Simmer slowly.
Taste.
Adjust seasoning.
At 3:40 PM, everything was finished.
He exhaled.
He sent a message.
[Dinner is ready.]
[We'll be home in 30 minutes!]
When Sayuri and Eriri entered, they froze.
The house smelled rich. Warm. Savory.
"…You actually did it," Eriri muttered.
"Wash your hands," Raizel said calmly.
"Then sit."
They did.
"Itadakimasu"
Then ate.
Sayuri's eyes widened.
"This is amazing…"
She looked genuinely impressed.
"I wish I could eat your cooking every day."
Eriri chewed carefully.
The aroma was wonderful.
Presentation solid.
Taste?
…Average.
Not bad.
Not great.
Safe.
"It's pretty much like school cafeteria lunches," she said bluntly. "You let me down."
"Eriri!" Sayuri snapped sharply. "Don't be rude! You can't even cook!"
Eriri froze.
Hurt flashed across her face.
She pushed her chair back and ran upstairs.
Sayuri immediately stood—
But Raizel gently extended his arm.
"Allow me."
Raizel quickly ascended the stairs and chased after Eriri. He knocked on her door gently.
"…Come in."
She sat on her bed, eyes slightly red.
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean— I just—"
"I was not offended." Raizel said to her gently
She looked up.
He knelt slightly to meet her eye level.
"I know you did not mean harm."
She swallowed.
"I will improve," he said gently. "If you are willing… please try my cooking again in the future."
His tone wasn't defensive.
It was soft.
Protective.
Almost paternal.
Eriri blinked.
"…You're weird."
"Possibly."
A faint smile.
She sniffed.
"…Fine. I'll try again."
He patted her head gently.
"It is settled."
Outside the door—
Sayuri stood silently, hand over her mouth, tears shimmering in her eyes
Raizel returned downstairs and began washing dishes.
Sayuri hurried in, pretending she hadn't been listening.
"You didn't have to clean alone."
"It is my responsibility."
She stepped closer.
"The food was wonderful."
He looked down slightly.
"It was average."
"You tried." Sayuri quickly reassured.
He gave a small, self-deprecating smile.
"I wished to make you both happy."
Sayuri's heart swelled.
She wrapped her arms around him suddenly.
"You did."
He stiffened slightly—
Then held her.
Her voice trembled.
"I love you."
He inhaled slowly.
"I love you as well."
Their foreheads touched.
The kiss that followed was slow, deep and full of passion
Upstairs—
Eriri came down for water.
She froze halfway down the stairs.
"…Oh my god."
She quickly ducked behind the wall.
Hidden.
Listening.
Sayuri whispered softly,
"Promise me… you won't leave."
"I will not," Raizel replied. "And I will be good to Eriri."
Another kiss.
Eriri covered her ears.
"I'm not ready for this… I'm not ready for this…"
Yet—
Her lips curved faintly.
Because for the first time—
Her mother looked truly happy.
And that mattered more than she wanted to admit.