Chapter 10: I Might Be Dumb

“Good evening, welcome,” said a gentle, warm-voiced woman as she bowed slightly, the faint scent of cooking oil and soy lingering around her. She looked to be in her mid-forties, graceful in posture but carrying the weariness of years spent running a small eatery.

“Good evening,” Kouya answered politely, stepping inside with the blue-eyed hatchling padding quietly behind him.

The interior was cozy and narrow, filled with a comforting mix of sizzling sounds and the faint crackle of oil. Directly ahead was a wooden counter, polished by time and regulars’ elbows, behind which a broad-shouldered man with a scarf around his neck flipped food with fluid precision. Around the small space were several tables—old but sturdy—each bathed in the amber glow of hanging lamps.

The air was alive with the scents of grilled fish, fried batter, and sweet mirin. A few suited office workers clinked beer glasses and laughed away their workday stress. A tired man in a rumpled coat hunched over his meal, quietly savoring it. Two uniformed office ladies sat at the corner table, chatting softly over plates of skewered yakitori. The scene was warm, simple, and human—an oasis of life within the cool night outside.

When the woman’s eyes landed on Kanna, she nearly gasped aloud. “Oh my, what an adorable child!”

Kanna blinked once, unmoving, her expression perfectly blank. The silence that followed somehow made her even cuter. She didn’t need to do anything; her “I might be dumb” act was flawless.

“What would you two like to eat?” the woman asked cheerfully, hands clasped in front of her apron.

Kouya looked around for a menu but found none. “Uh… do you have—”

“Oh, you’re new here, right?” She smiled knowingly. “We mostly serve teppanyaki and drinks. All our ingredients are over there—see? Just tell my husband what you’d like, and he’ll cook it fresh. No menu needed.”

Kouya nodded and stepped closer to the counter. Behind the man stood a large glass refrigerator filled with neatly arranged baskets of ingredients—fat slices of pork belly, skewered squid, mushrooms, fish cakes, tofu, vegetables, and an assortment of noodles. Beside it, two steaming pots simmered on low heat. One was filled with dark, aromatic broth, thick with umami; chunks of radish, meat, and egg bobbed gently in it, their surfaces glistening with soy glaze. The other pot was lighter, its surface speckled with steam and bubbles—the smell unmistakably that of noodles.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Then… two bowls of udon.”

Udon—simple, hearty, dependable. Not fancy, but filling and affordable. The perfect meal for a quiet evening.

Before he could finish, a soft, sugary voice interrupted him. “I want that one.”

He blinked. “What?” He followed Kanna’s tiny finger to the sizzling pan on the side. ‘Takoyaki? Really? Picky eater much?’

The woman giggled behind her hand. “Ah, that’s takoyaki. My husband gets up every morning at five-thirty to buy fresh octopus from the fishermen. He does all the cleaning and prepping himself—it’s our pride and joy!”

Kanna, unfazed, said calmly, “I want to eat it.”

At the nearby table, one of the office ladies gasped softly. “Oh my God, she’s so cute when she doesn’t smile.”

“Right? And those blue eyes—so bright! She’s totally mixed!” whispered the other, practically glowing with excitement.

Their low voices couldn’t escape Kouya’s sharp hearing. He sighed inwardly. The gleam in their eyes reminded him of that cat-crazed woman in his apartment complex—the one who nearly wept with joy when feeding strays. It was the look of someone about to pet something they shouldn’t.

‘Fools. You’re staring at a dragon. A real one. One wrong move, and you’ll be ash before you even realize what happened.’

Kanna tugged his sleeve lightly. Her big blue eyes, clear as glass, stared up at him. “I want to eat.”

Kouya sighed and glanced at the handwritten board behind the counter. “Fifteen hundred yen…?” It was pricier than he expected, but not unreasonable. “Alright, one order of takoyaki, please.”

“Got it! One takoyaki coming right up!” The man behind the grill called cheerfully, his spatula already dancing.

Kouya was about to find a seat when his sleeve was tugged again.

Kanna’s small hand held tight, her blank eyes fixed on the pot of simmering broth. “I want that too.”

He followed her gaze. “Oden, huh.” The scent of soy and kelp filled the air. He could see daikon, tofu, fish cakes, and eggs slowly turning golden as they soaked up flavor.

The man chuckled heartily. “A set’s just a thousand yen, kid. Tell you what—if she likes it, I’ll throw in some shrimp balls and fish rolls for free.”

The aroma alone made Kouya’s stomach growl. “Sure, one oden set too.”

To a demon king, money was meaningless. To eat well, to enjoy the mortal world—that was a luxury he could appreciate.

Within minutes, two steaming dishes arrived. The takoyaki gleamed golden, sizzling gently in the tray, topped with bonito flakes that waved in the heat. The oden came in a deep bowl, its broth rich and dark, steam curling lazily into the air.

Kouya picked up his chopsticks and bit into one takoyaki. Crispy on the outside, soft within; the octopus had just enough bite. The flavor exploded across his tongue—savory, sweet, with just a hint of ginger. “Not bad,” he murmured approvingly.

The oden, too, was perfect comfort food. The radish was soft enough to cut with chopsticks, the tofu melted in his mouth, and every piece carried the deep warmth of the broth. It was simple but satisfying.

He leaned back slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting. ‘This… this is peace. No battles, no schemes, just food and quiet.’

…

A short while later, the shopkeeper’s wife returned, carrying two bowls of steaming miso soup. “Freshly made—on the house,” she said kindly.

A gruff voice called from a nearby table. “Hey, Sakata-san, how come they get free soup and I don’t?”

She shot him a look that could freeze hell. “You bring in a daughter that cute, and I’ll consider it.”

The man rubbed his head sheepishly as the whole shop burst into laughter.

“So what’s your name, little one? How old are you?” Sakata-san asked, crouching beside Kanna with motherly curiosity.

Kanna blinked. “Kanna Kamui. I’m twelve hundred years old.”

The woman chuckled. “Aww, so imaginative! My son used to forget his age all the time too.”

Kouya nearly groaned aloud. ‘You think she’s pretending… lady, she’s not pretending.’

The two office women leaned in again, curiosity sparkling. “Kanna-chan, where are you from?”

“Sotoru Island.”

“Ohhh, foreign! I knew it!” one whispered.

‘You don’t even know that island exists!’ Kouya thought darkly.

“And what school do you go to, sweetie?”

He took a long sip of soup to stop himself from speaking. ‘She doesn’t need school! She’s a dragon! Give her homework and you’ll doom us all.’

…

Kouya sat back, letting the chatter drift around him like background music. It was oddly relaxing, this fragile slice of normalcy. Then came another tug at his sleeve.

Kanna looked up blankly. “I’m done.”

He nodded, pulling out his wallet. “Alright, let’s—”

“I’m not full.”

He froze. “…You what?”

‘You ate everything! I barely touched a single bite!’ He sighed. “I’m out of money.”

She stayed silent, but the nearby women gasped dramatically.

“What kind of big brother doesn’t feed his sister properly?” one scolded playfully.

Kouya’s eye twitched. ‘I swear, I’m not her brother.’

Another chimed in cheerfully. “Kanna-chan, would you like some grilled saury? It’s crispy on the outside, fluffy inside—I’ll treat you!”

Kanna blinked once. “Oh. I want it.”

The woman squealed. “She’s so cute!”

‘She hasn’t smiled once,’ Kouya thought in disbelief. ‘You’re all insane.’

The other woman leaned in. “Kanna-chan, want some tofu soup? Kitagawa-ojisan made it himself—it’s so smooth it melts on your tongue!”

Kanna nodded solemnly. “Oh. I want it.”

The chef laughed heartily, joining in the chaos. “And don’t forget dessert! Try my strawberry mochi—soft rice skin, cream filling, the works. Like it? I’ll pack another for later!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep