The kitchen at the Amagi Inn is eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the stove. The air is thick with the aroma of something… surprisingly pleasant. No ominous burnt scent, no questionable bubbling sounds — just the warm, savory fragrance of a home-cooked meal.

Yukiko stands at the counter, her hands trembling slightly as she lifts the lid off the pot. You half expect the usual disaster — maybe a sludge-like stew or an unidentifiable scorched mess — but instead, the sight is... normal. Comforting, even.

“W-Well,” Yukiko stammers, her cheeks flushed. “I think it’s done.”

You glance down at the dish — a glossy curry, rich in color, perfectly thick. Steam curls up invitingly, and for the first time, you’re not immediately searching for an excuse to delay the inevitable taste test.

“I followed the recipe exactly,” she continues, nervously twiddling her fingers. “No... improvising this time.”

She spoons a portion onto a plate, carefully setting it in front of you. You pick up the fork, heart pounding like you’re defusing a bomb. Yukiko watches with wide, expectant eyes.

One bite.

It’s... delicious.

The spices are balanced, the vegetables tender, and the rice perfectly fluffy. It’s everything a curry should be — and nothing it shouldn’t. You blink in disbelief.

"Yukiko," you manage, swallowing. "This is—"

"Edible?!" She gasps, clasping her hands together in delight as you didn't look repulsed.