Valentine's Day was approaching—a time to give chocolates to those who support you, or to confess your feelings to someone special.
"So how about handing out handmade chocolates as fan goods?"
"Dismissed."
"Why!?"
"Hygiene. It's risky considering shipping time."
"Right…"
I'd been talking with Hello about sending something to the fan club, but handmade chocolates were a no-go.
"Well, chocolate's still a good idea. We can arrange it as a packaged good. But why handmade?"
"…I was thinking of giving homemade chocolate to someone I know. But I'm not confident in making it."
Lovely had mentioned in class that she was making handmade chocolates for someone she liked. I wanted to try too—but I knew if I did it would probably end up with a disaster. So I hoped someone could teach me.
"Shouldn't you make it with friends?"
"It feels awkward to make it with the person I'm giving it to. So I thought maybe Hello could introduce me to someone who's good at it."
"I'll teach you."
"Hello!?"
"I can cook quite a bit."
Of course she could. Hello-san could do anything. But still I gratefully accepted her offer.
And so, heart-shaped chocolate cookies were born.
"Wow!!"
They were perfect—cute, delicious, and beginner-friendly. Hello's recipe was foolproof, and even I, the clumsy one, managed to wrap them neatly in the bags she provided.
I'd created something with genuine feminine charm.
"But aren't you glad you didn't make them with Rice?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well… you're kind of the favorite to split with her."
"? Wouldn't that cause weird rumors?"
Hello gave me a look. She'd picked up on something in my answer.
"If you're okay with that, then fine."
"Oh, but Rice-chan eats a lot. I'll give her two."
"…Do as you please."
"And one for Hello-san."
I handed her a cookie.
"Because you always take care of me."
"I'll be grateful."
"Come to think of it, Hello-san… do you have anyone to give chocolate to? Like… a lover?"
"…"
"Hello-san?"
"I don't have a lover."
It seems I had stepped on a landmine.
How could someone like Hello—beautiful, competent, kind—not have a partner? Maybe she'd broken up recently. Maybe that's why she drinks.
"H-Hello-san?"
"I can't stand the pain. Swallow."
"Hello-san!?"
She pulled a can of Strong from the fridge in my trainer room, cracked it open, and downed it without flinching. After a few more, she curled up on the sofa and fell asleep.
So I quietly draped a blanket over her and tiptoed away.
Let's not wake her up she looks very tired.