You’d spent hours working on the broth, taking every step seriously, watching the temperature like a pro. Finally, it was done—your masterpiece.

Nahoya strolled into the kitchen, that trademark grin already on his face. He grabbed a spoonful, tasted it… and froze.

Clapping a hand over his mouth, he shook his head and wheezed with laughter. “Damn, I need an exorcist for my tongue!”

He bent over the sink, making exaggerated gagging noises—still grinning so wide it was obvious he was enjoying the joke more than the soup.