After pulling himself out of the simulation game, it took Narumi Tōru roughly three or four days to gradually get his mindset back on track.
Everything that had happened in the simulation was, of course, unforgettable—but getting too immersed in games was bad for one's health. It was better to focus on the present. At least, that much he understood.
After all, the simulation was over. Life had to go on.
And so, just like it had in the simulation, the Service Club began receiving all kinds of requests—some troublesome, some downright ridiculous.
Everything lined up perfectly with Tōru's memories. Even the girl named Yuigahama Yui stepping into the Service Club with a request to make handmade cookies for someone played out exactly as before.
Which meant that the hell-tier cooking showdown was just around the corner.
Though Tōru looked calm and unfazed on the surface, he'd actually brought anti-nausea medicine with him to school that day.
After all, in the simulation, eating Yukinoshita Yukino's cooking had nearly resulted in Hikigaya Hachiman carrying him to the hospital for an emergency stomach pump. Being prepared wasn't a bad idea.
However, despite bracing himself for the worst, the outcome completely caught him off guard.
"Beep—time's up… huh."
In the home economics classroom, the curly-haired boy lowered the whistle and looked first at the misshapen, unevenly colored lumps in front of Yuigahama, then at the neatly cut, glossy cookies before Yukinoshita, radiating a rich buttery aroma. His expression turned… complicated.
Wait—this isn't how it was supposed to go…?
Having finished her cooking, Yukinoshita Yukino let out a long breath. She lightly wiped the fine beads of sweat from her forehead with her wrist and placed the carefully prepared cookies in front of Narumi Tōru and Hikigaya Hachiman.
This was her true skill.
Though for reasons she herself couldn't quite explain, her cooking in the simulation had been so disastrous it defied description, Yukino was confident that food she'd poured her full effort into would absolutely win over the judges' stomachs.
Of course, the self-assured Yukino had no way of knowing what Tōru—smiling on the outside while internally drenched in cold sweat—was thinking at that moment.
If Yuigahama's cooking is chocolate wrapped to look like poop, but Yukinoshita's is poop wrapped to look like chocolate…
Then today, the ICU would definitely be reserving a bed for him.
"Oh, this looks pretty good. Yuigahama's looks a bit clumsy… but that just means she needs more practice."
Hachiman didn't hold back with his praise. He pulled up a chair and prepared to dig in—while Yukinoshita's gaze naturally shifted to the curly-haired boy still standing there, visibly conflicted.
That look clearly said "Try it".
Tōru understood all too well.
Well, whatever. If he died, he died.
Putting on an innocent expression, Tōru sat down and began examining both plates—secretly hoping Hachiman would become the first test subject.
Go on, Hikinezumi… our lives are in your hands!
Hachiman, ever sensitive to attention, felt the spotlight-like gaze burning into him. The cookie he'd picked up hovered in midair before he put it back down.
Uh… does Narumi really want to eat that badly? Maybe letting him go first isn't such a bad idea…
Watching the two boys in silence, Yukino straightened her posture, fully prepared to hear Tōru's evaluation of her cooking.
Thanks to her experience in the simulation, she already knew she'd be giving Yuigahama cooking advice today. So she'd spent the last two days practicing at home—determined to redeem herself.
And also to leave a good impression on the real Narumi Tōru.
Though that last part was something Yukinoshita Yukino absolutely could not bring herself to admit honestly.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. Though her gaze appeared calm as she watched the boys taste the cookies, the unconscious way she rubbed her arms betrayed her slight nervousness.
"...Mm."
After hesitating for a long moment, Tōru finally bit into one, chewing slowly. His expression gradually softened.
"It's good. Seriously, you could open a shop, Yukinoshita."
Hachiman, as blunt as ever, quickly finished off Yukino's cookies and immediately turned his attention to Yuigahama's.
"M-My cookies too, please, judges!"
The pink-haired girl, unusually serious from nerves, bowed to Tōru and Hachiman—her eyes repeatedly drifting toward the dead-fish-eyed boy. After all, he was the one she truly wanted to give her cookies to.
In response to Hachiman's praise, Yukino merely nodded politely in thanks, then returned her gaze to the silent Tōru. The small motion of her fingers resting on her shoulder quickened slightly.
The opinion she truly cared about was his.
"…They're really good."
The curly-haired boy ate all of the cookies without changing expression and gave an honest evaluation.
"…!"
Yukinoshita raised an eyebrow. Though uncontrollable joy surged inside her, she suppressed it, refusing to let it show.
"Thank you."
She replied with the same simple gratitude she would offer anyone else—but the way her eyes kept drifting toward the curly-haired boy didn't escape Yuigahama, who blinked in surprise.
Of course, if Yukinoshita Yukino had known what was going through Tōru's head at that moment, she probably would've been left speechless.
Her cooking is actually this good… so the real Yukinoshita Yukino really is different from the one in the simulation…
…Right?
Narumi Tōru wasn't heartless. He would never forget what he'd experienced. But if the girl in front of him wasn't the same Yukino he'd run away with, talked through the night with by the sea, and faced life and death alongside, then he had no intention of clinging to someone who couldn't reciprocate those feelings.
Being able to let go was one of his few virtues. After all, if something was unattainable, the classy thing to do was turn away gracefully.
Still, it was too early to draw conclusions. He'd observe things for a while longer.
What truly occupied Tōru's mind right now wasn't the tangled mess between himself and the Yukinoshita sisters—but how he was supposed to cash in the "rewards" he'd earned after exiting the simulation.
No matter how you looked at it, he'd involuntarily burned through an enormous amount of mental energy in that future simulation. If the payoff turned out disappointing, it would be a terrible waste of sunk costs.
Today wasn't a workday. The moment club activities ended, Tōru made a beeline for home.
Under the blazing heat, crammed into an overcrowded train, he finally returned to his small yet comforting apartment.
After opening his laptop, Tōru straightened his posture, gathered his thoughts, and—with soft background music playing—created a new document.
Then, he typed the very first letter of the prologue to his new novel.