Chapter 176: Pinching Vigne

“Tired? Do you feel any better now?” Vigne asked softly, her warm eyes full of concern as the hum of the fast-food restaurant buzzed quietly around them. The light from the window reflected faintly off her hair, giving it a soft golden sheen. Her voice carried a mix of tenderness and that familiar motherly tone she often used when she forgot she was supposed to be a devil.

Kouya shook his head slightly, sipping from his drink. “I’m fine. Really.”

Seeing that his face wasn’t strained, Vigne relaxed and smiled faintly. “Alright. But if you start feeling tired, you have to tell me, okay? Don’t push yourself too much.”

He sighed inwardly. ‘Do I look that weak to you?’ he thought. ‘I’m not some fragile girl in a melodrama! Ten of them wouldn’t even make me sweat!’

Vigne, unaware of his internal protests, continued to fan him gently. The delicate scent of her perfume lingered in the air—something like lilies mixed with faint vanilla. As the cool air brushed his face, Kouya felt the exhaustion fade slightly, his muscles relaxing without him realizing. When she noticed the lines of tension easing from his expression, she started to lower her hand.

“Don’t stop,” Kouya said lazily. “Keep fanning.”

Vigne blinked, raising a brow. “You—” She sighed, half in amusement, half in irritation. “Fine. But you owe me one later.” When he smirked, she puffed her cheeks and thrust the fan into his hands. “Actually, no—you can do it yourself!”

Kouya chuckled under his breath. The girl who claimed to be a devil really had zero intimidation factor when she pouted like that.

Moments later, the waiter returned, placing a tray on the table. The aroma of fries and cola filled the air. Vigne folded her fan neatly and looked at him. “You shouldn’t drink too much cola. It’s bad for your stomach.”

He glanced at her flatly. ‘It’s one glass, not a gallon.’ People on the internet exaggerated everything—yesterday it was Jinkela, today dyed seaweed and shoe-boiled milk, tomorrow colored nori. He took another sip out of sheer stubbornness. ‘I’m practically drinking history here. Soldiers even had cola in the war. And in that post‑war wasteland game, Nuka‑Cola is the best‑selling drink.’

“Here, at least eat something real.” Vigne pushed the tray of fries closer. Her tone softened unconsciously. “They taste better when they’re still warm.”

He took one, bit into it, and nodded slightly. “Not bad. Crispy.”

Vigne smiled in satisfaction. “Told you.”

After a while, she stood up and said, “Watch our things. I’ll be right back.”

When she returned from the restroom, her steps faltered. The table was completely different. The fries were gone, replaced by an entire feast—spicy wings, molten chocolate cake, strawberry ice cream, a chicken burger, and even nuggets.

Her jaw dropped. “What… what happened here?”

Kouya took a calm sip of cola. “I got hungry. So I ordered more.”

“But this—this is way too much! How do you plan to finish all that?” she exclaimed, eyes wide.

“That’s why you’re helping,” he replied nonchalantly.

Vigne crossed her arms. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then it’s all going to waste,” he said flatly.

The word waste hit her conscience hard. She froze, conflicted, then sighed in defeat. “F-fine… but you better let me pay you back later!”

Before she could say more, Kouya leaned slightly forward and said, “Open your mouth.”

Her eyes widened. “Eh?”

He picked up a piece of chicken and held it near her face. Without thinking, Vigne obeyed, parting her lips just a little. The next thing she knew, he was pushing the food toward her.

“Eat. Before it gets cold.”

Her brain short-circuited. “Wha—mhmph?!” she mumbled as the taste of spicy chicken filled her mouth. Her cheeks turned crimson instantly. “Wh-what are you doing?!”

“Feeding you,” he said with a straight face. “It’s not like I haven’t done it before. Remember the hotel—”

“Don’t say that!” she cried, her face blazing like fire. “It wasn’t like that!”

He smirked inwardly. ‘So you’re only denying the hotel part, huh?’

“No! That’s not what I meant!” she snapped, realizing how it sounded. The heat on her cheeks deepened as she chewed furiously, pouting like an embarrassed cat. The sight made Kouya grin despite himself.

After lunch, they resumed shopping. The cart grew fuller with every aisle, packed with supplies, snacks, and miscellaneous items. Vigne checked her list like a commander inspecting troops.

“Finally done!” she exhaled in relief, hands on her hips. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the bright SALE signs over the vegetable section. Her gaze lingered, clearly torn. “Let’s just go.”

“Not buying any?” Kouya asked, following her gaze. He could practically see the struggle written on her face.

She hesitated. “We already bought too much. It’ll be hard to carry.”

He chuckled. “You’re really that selfless, huh? Fine. Get some more. I’ll carry it.”

“I-I didn’t say I wanted to…” she muttered weakly.

“I said I’ll carry it,” he repeated firmly.

Her shoulders slumped. “Fine… but only a few.”

She started choosing vegetables carefully, comparing prices like a professional. “What do you want to eat this week?”

“Pork cutlet bowl. Omelet rice too.”

She nodded automatically. “Got it—wait, why am I even asking you?!” She glared at him in embarrassment but didn’t put the items back.

At the counter, they loaded up several heavy bags. The cashier even gave them a sympathetic look as Kouya picked up nearly all of them himself. “You sure you don’t need help with that?” she asked. Vigne shook her head, forcing a polite smile. “We’ll manage.”

By the time they stepped out, it was already mid-afternoon. The sunlight had mellowed, the streets bathed in a warm golden hue. They boarded the train back, pressed close together among the crowd.

The car swayed gently with the rhythm of the tracks. Their shoulders brushed occasionally, and every time, Vigne tensed, her cheeks faintly pink. From a distance, they could’ve been mistaken for a couple.

It took more than an hour before they returned to the familiar bridge where they’d met that morning. The city air carried the scent of river water and evening wind.

Vigne exhaled softly. “Thanks for helping today, Kouya-kun. You should go rest.”

Kouya looked at her hands, clutching several shopping bags. “You sure you can manage all that alone?”

She nodded quickly. “I’ll be fine—”

But before she could finish, a breeze swept by, lifting the hem of her skirt slightly and blowing strands of hair into her face. She frowned, trying to shake them away, but her hands were full.

Kouya sighed, stepped forward, and gently tucked the stray hair behind her ear. His fingertips brushed the soft skin near her cheek.

Vigne froze instantly. Time seemed to halt around her.

Then, to her utter disbelief, his hand lingered—and he gave her cheek a playful pinch.

He tilted his head, as if evaluating something. “Hmm. Nice texture.”

Her brain stopped processing entirely. Then, as if a switch flipped, her entire face flushed red. Her skin burned where he touched her, the heat spreading through her entire body.

Her heart pounded like a drum, loud enough she was sure he could hear it.

“Y-you—you—!” she stuttered helplessly, voice trembling with a mix of rage, shock, and something else she refused to name. Her eyes widened as she shouted, her words breaking apart, “What on earth do you think you’re doing?!”

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