The Top Idol Next Door Can't Help But Crave My Guilty Pleasure Meals-Chapter 10Volume 1 .2 - Please Continue to Be a Fan of Mine
ROUND 10 – Please Continue to Be a Fan of Mine 2
That night, a courier service delivered a package to my house.
The contents of the package were a beautifully washed bento box.
The sender was ‘MIYATO Production Office,’ the name of the agency to which Yuzuki belongs.
With this, my connection with Yuzuki was completely severed.
It seemed pointless to do anything now.
After our real-life relationship was settled and a wall called ‘idol’ erected between us, there was nothing more I could do.
In fact, I should probably withdraw quietly if I truly care for her.
I lie on the living room sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling.
I have no intention of holding a grudge. In fact, I plan to continue supporting her idol activities quietly.
I’d like to go to a live concert at least once, and I’m curious about the handshake events.
Someday, after a long time, we’ll exchange a handshake that lasts only a second——Without any mention of our past as neighbors.
The situation hasn’t worsened at all. It’s just returned to how it was before we met.
──I’ll make you my fan!
Good for you, Yuzuki. You’ve achieved your goal.
──Itadakimasu!
Despite resisting so much, you’re all smiles once the meal starts.
──Yasai ninniku mashimashi abura karamé mashi, ō buta daburu de
There’s no other idol who would make such a homemade Jiro order.
(TN: Chapter 6, Extra vegetables, extra garlic, extra fat, seasoned extra, large pork double.)
──If I weren’t an idol… I wonder if I could have said what I wanted to say next.
It’s precisely because Yuzuki is an idol that we could become close.
The fact that I’ll never meet Sasaki Yuzuki again weighs heavily on me.
“…Yuzuki…!”
“I’m not Arisu Yuzuki—”
“Huh?”
Next to the sofa, a brown-haired gal was sitting.
The beauty mark under her right eye, the earrings by her ears, and her pink lips were all too high-resolution to be just a dream.
“Ah, Rika? Why are you here?”
“I rang the doorbell several times, but no one came out. I’m worried that they might be sick in bed or something. As your Onee-san, I can’t just not check you, right?”
No, I don’t mind that she’s entered the house.
What I’m confused about is why Rika is wearing an apron.
“You probably haven’t had dinner yet. I’ll cook for you today.”
With an innocent grin, Rika moves to the kitchen and turns on the stove under the frying pan.
There’s a pack of eggs on the counter, so it seems she’s planning to make something with eggs.
Wait, even though it’s a Teflon frying pan, did she put oil in it? And is she going to beat the eggs now?
It looks like some shell got in, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
She hasn’t sprinkled any salt or pepper either. Smoke is starting to rise, so she should turn on the ventilation fan quickly.
See, she’s coughing, “Ehh, it’s sticking in my nose!”. She should have used oil or butter first.
The smoke is getting darker. “Suzu! Help me! Fire, it’s a fire!” Ah, now the smoke detector goes off.
My concern overcomes the gloominess I felt before, so I involuntarily stand up from the sofa.
I first opened the small kitchen window and stopped the fire alarm.
Then I turn off the stove and place the frying pan on a wet cloth, and a hissing sound can be heard.
“Rika, can you wipe the table?”
“…Okay.”
I remove the burnt egg onto a plate and take out another frying pan.
I use three eggs extravagantly, cracking them into a bowl and seasoning with salt, pepper, and granulated consommé.
Then I add milk, which will add moisture and create a fluffy texture.
I make sure to stir the eggs well to avoid uneven cooking.
Only now do I turn on the stove again, first heating the pan on high heat, then reducing it to medium.
Once the butter melts, I pour in the egg mixture, stirring from the outside to the inside.
When they’re half-cooked, I shape the edges with a spatula. The residual heat will finish the cooking, so I turn off the stove and tap the tilted pan to form an oval shape.
Lastly, I cook the seam briefly, and voila, a plain omelet is done.
“Now, let’s eat”
I haven’t cooked rice today, so packet rice will have to do.
Wanting a salad as well, I sprinkled chopped lettuce and frozen avocado, then drizzled it with Cobb salad dressing.
We sit opposite each other at the table, each with an omelet we made.
Foll𝑜w current novels on fɾēewebnσveℓ.com.
“Suzu, that…”
Rika points to what’s in front of me.
Lined up with her index finger is something that was once called an egg.
“Itadakimasu.”
“Ah…”
I reach for the crumbly omelet that Rika made for me with my chopsticks.
Crunch- crunch-
“This is a new texture that overturns the common sense of egg dishes. It seems like rock salt would go better with this than ketchup.”
I sprinkle some coarse salt with a mill and take another bite.
Yeah, the bitterness of the egg pairs surprisingly well with the saltiness.
“You don’t have to force yourself…”
“I’m not forcing myself.”
I truly mean it. There’s no way I wouldn’t eat a meal that someone spent time and money preparing for me, especially when that someone is my proud childhood friend.
“More importantly, Rika, you should eat while it’s hot. Leaving it too long might overcook it.”
“Th-Then… Itadakimasu.”
As she cuts into it with her chopsticks, steam wafts softly from the center of the omelet.
Rika’s eyes widened when she hesitantly brought it to her mouth.
“Wow, it’s so creamy… Suzu is really amazing…”
That’s not true. Talent isn’t necessary for an amateur’s home cooking.
It will turn out fine ninety-nine percent of the time if you follow the recipe properly.
Rika’s just a bit too enthusiastic, but she’ll improve quickly once she gets the hang of it.
