Repeatedly, I muttered apologies.
My mind was in disarray. Even so, the pain surging in my cheeks remained.
Maybe this was the penalty for treating you so rashly; yet, I couldn’t help but seek your forgiveness continually.
Still numb from the slap, I held my cheek and cautiously followed Erica. The hat pulled down made my vision narrow.
It was uncomfortable.
As I stood beside Erica, we were in front of the counter. Suddenly, I felt the gaze of an employee’s eyes upon me. Hastily, I pulled my hat down, but the piece of fabric that had already stuck to my face couldn’t hide my appearance any longer.
I looked ahead. A cake was visible. Chocolate, strawberry, lemon, mango.
There were many kinds. Had it always been so diverse?
I didn’t know well; I was ignorant. Of the outside world.
I glanced around. The indoor space was quiet, adorned with deep and dark brown hues on the walls. The distinct color invoked a sense of old-world charm.
Suddenly, my heart fluttered. It was mysterious.
I bit my lip.
Whatever this is, plans to create distance still stand. While earlier, I submitted because Erica treated me mercilessly, I don’t intend to have my will crushed so easily.
“What do you like?”
“Americano.”
Unconsciously speaking, I truly liked Americano.
“This place specializes in cakes.”
“Americano-flavored cake.”
“Just eat a chocolate cake.”
I disliked sweets.
But I didn’t respond. It was a personal effort.
I sat at the table. The piece of cake in front of me was of a moderate size, chocolate-colored, a deep hue.
Since it’s just a brief break with the association, eating a large cake seems odd too.
“…”
Beside me, a green drink was also visible.
“What kind of drink is this?”
“It’s said to be a melon juice?”
If there’s melon juice, why not an Americano too?
I almost pouted but decided to remain silent. Sullenness at such moments demonstrates resilience.
In any case, since Erica wanted me to finish what I’ve started, I doubt she cares much about it.
Suddenly, anger welled up in me.
How dare she order without permission? Not long ago, one word from me would make her follow dutifully.
Looking up, I saw Erica cutting her cake slice with a fork.
The piece was neatly divided; the fork was inserted.
Seeing the piece enter her mouth, I momentarily indulged in memories.
It’s too sweet, probably. I dislike sweets. If I must eat something, something slightly bitter would be great.
Erica’s expression was changing rapidly. Eventually, she wore a look of elation, only to freeze when she saw me.
“Do you not eat?”
I avoided her gaze. Clenched my lips.
So, this is my rebellion. A timid yet firm approach.
The table isn’t small. Though we face each other, no pinching of the cheeks occurs.
“You still haven’t regained your senses?”
Hastily, I responded.
“…Why would I want such…”
“Doesn’t it taste good?”
I stuck out my tongue. Clearly, it tastes awful.
“It suits your taste for sweets.”
“Who among us acts childishly? Should you be saying such things?”
I sharply turned my head, indicating no desire to converse.
A sound of a knife cutting through the plate was heard. She cut the cake into small cube shapes.
Erica picked up the fork again. A piece of chocolate cake skewered through the three thorns was lifted.
“Try it.”
“No.”
“Once just once.”
“No.”
“Oriri.”
I heard a lowered voice; involuntarily, I shivered.
“Wouldn’t it be better to be polite when speaking nicely?”
“······.”
Silence fell. Cold sweat trickled down.
This isn’t right. Telling me to speak kindly isn’t fair.
Make me listen to nice words, if you want to save these hostages.
This situation has reversed…
Reluctantly, I opened my mouth. My eyes, closed until now, must give an icy impression.
“Mmm.”
The sweet taste melted over the soft sensation. Good. No, not good.
Actually, I enjoy bitterness.
I opened my eyes. Erica, smiling slightly, moved her fork away.
“Stop complaining constantly…”
I held back the urge to spit out the sweetness, chewing on the crumbling remnants of chocolate to swallow them.
I searched desperately for water; the juice on the side was visible.
I pressed my lips to the bent straw, and it too tasted sweet.
Melon flavor.
It has no bitterness. It’s infuriating.
“What do you think? It’s delicious, right?”
“Too sweet.”
“That’s the point.”
“It’s child’s taste.”
“But it’s good, isn’t it?”
Do you really want to stay a child forever?
Seeing Erica cut the remaining cake into pieces and putting them in her mouth, I gulped down more melon juice. Just as before, it was sweet. Familiarity didn’t come from having it twice, though.
In truth, sweetness isn’t a problem. Taste is just a fleeting excitement and joy. To me, prolonged happiness comes from these everyday moments. While trembling, I managed to achieve the café visit, and walking in modest contentment had always been my dream.
I suddenly looked down. Half-cut cake was there. Footsteps approached. Slowly raising my gaze, I saw Erica and the shop behind her.
Cake. Americano. Shaved Ice. I still detest sweets.
Perhaps I should be happy. Perhaps satisfied. Yet, aren’t you living the daily life you desired, with the person you love?
Perhaps now I can rest.
With gratitude, I bowed deeply, thanking for this glimpse of light in the harsh life. This might be the sole penance God bestowed upon me, allowing these undeserved moments.
I might vomit.
A feeling of nausea mixed with resignation and rage. Part of the cake remained.
Slowly rising, I didn’t want to get caught. Such convulsions meant nothing to me.
“Where are you going?”
Her instinct, seeing me with the fork, chilled me. She rarely asked such questions. Why now?
I must apologize. I wasted time, and I need to kneel and beg forgiveness, licking her feet humbly.
But I couldn’t. Time is running short. This despairing feeling is overwhelming. I might lose control. If saliva rises, it won’t change anything.
I mumbled to myself, burying my face in her nape, inhaling her hair scent. I counted slowly.
Three.
Two.
One.
“Why, why is this happening…”
Trembling could be felt. I drew back. Staggering forward, I stumbled towards the bathroom. Head buried in a wash basin, I spoke.
Covering my ears,
Thank you for letting me experience normalcy. I feel grateful enough to die from happiness.
Yet, shouldn’t even this amount of time be deserved? I’ve tried hard. I kept emotions masked and put on expressions. I’ve been kind to others and imitated people.
Am I still empty inside? Apologies. But it’s inevitable. I am this kind of being—a filthy beast fallen to the bottom of the cliff.
Has nothing changed then? I hoped desperately; I longed earnestly.
It seems I still don’t understand myself.
Whom am I praying to continuously? Even if I don’t know, the countless words flooding my mind only awakened primal feelings.
Chilling silence envelops me. Unutterable emotions overflow.
I turned on the faucet. First, I washed my hands with running water, then my lips lightly. I looked in the mirror, checking if any marks showed, and turned.
I moved. Walking under the light’s beam, I returned to my seat.
Erica met my gaze.
“I, um, I coughed because…”
I wouldn’t stand up in my seat just because I sneezed.
The silence continued, piercing her swift observation. The gentle Erica kept her silence.
“Shall we go?”
A cold voice permeated.
“No, I’m not sick.”
Why am I saying this?
Her snowy pupils scrutinized me. I attempted to appear as calm as possible.
“Something’s on my hand, on my hand.”
Did my voice quiver? Not sure.
“Really?”
“Yes, yes.”
I nodded modestly, slowly, and composedly.
“Come here.”
We sat at a square table that could fit four. Erica knocked on the spot beside her with a loving smile, and I gracefully took my place beside her.
The hat was off.
A hand approached, again to violate my hair. I closed my eyes slowly, feeling the sensation of my hair.
The fork also neared. Chocolate slice speared onto it.
“Aah.”
“Aah…”
Opening my mouth, the sweet taste dissolved on my tongue. The intense flavor faded to leave behind a soft texture in my mouth.
I swallowed.
“How is it?”
“… Sweet.”
Am I possibly exposed? I’m scared. How could I act so foolishly, thinking I wouldn’t be noticed.
No, I can’t know until I’m asked.
“Ump.”
The sweet taste swept back into my mouth. Unable to resist, I chewed the cake passively.
“It’s juice.”
“Ah, ah…”
Taking the straw into my mouth, I sucked the beverage.
“Just right.”
I seem to be tamed.
Shouldn’t this have been obvious already?
Then, I should obediently follow her directions.
As a weakling, none of this made sense.
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