Chapter 188: What to Do When You Run into Your Teacher During a Date with a Classmate?

Kouya cleared his throat, straightened his collar, and cast a sidelong glance at Satania.

“You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

“Nope,” she chirped, her tone bouncing with energy. “I was going to go home and reward myself with two pineapple buns!”

Reward yourself… for what?!

What great, world-changing achievement did you accomplish that warrants a pineapple bun ceremony?

“How about saving the buns for breakfast instead?” Kouya suggested dryly, pointing toward a nearby izakaya. “I haven’t eaten either. Let’s get something warm.”

“Eh?” Satania hesitated, looking up at him with a puzzled tilt of her head. “But…”

“But what?” Kouya asked suspiciously.

Wait, was she actually… blushing? Did this airheaded demon just get shy?

“It’s just… I don’t have any money left.”

Kouya took a deep breath, forcing his composure to hold. “I’ll pay.”

…

The izakaya was called Kiku no Ma. It wasn’t one of those modern joints with neon signs and glass doors—it was traditional, with wooden panels, a sliding entrance, and the faint aroma of soy broth seeping through the seams. Despite Japan’s obsession with cherry blossoms, it was chrysanthemums that held royal status; even the Imperial crest bore their petals.

As Kouya slid open the door, a wave of warmth and savory scents greeted them, along with a chorus of “Welcome!” from the waitstaff.

Inside, the space was modest but inviting. A few low tables lined one side, and a wooden counter wrapped around the kitchen, where the sizzling of meat and the bubbling of soup filled the air. The lighting was neither too bright nor too dim—just right for late-night conversations.

“What will you have?” asked the chef, a middle-aged man with rolled-up sleeves and a calm smile.

Kouya scanned the menu pinned to the wall. “Pork cutlet rice bowl.”

Then he turned to Satania. “You can order whatever you like.”

“Oh! Then I’ll have… omelet rice! And grilled squid!” she declared with bright confidence.

“Good choice,” said the chef, jotting it down. “Please wait a bit.”

They chose a small corner table. Satania placed her bag of pineapple buns on the chair beside her with extreme care, like it was some sacred relic. Then she looked up with her usual sunny grin. “Thanks for the treat~”

“Hm?” Kouya glanced over.

“My allowance is almost gone,” she admitted. “I was going to live off pineapple buns for a week! But you’re feeding me real food! You really are a loyal servant officer! So tonight, I’ll eat a lot and maybe won’t have to eat for the next two days!”

“…”

There it was—the brain-melting effect of the stupidity field. Kouya could feel his IQ physically dropping.

Why—why had he brought her along for ‘date practice’ again? Was he temporarily insane?

…

As he pondered the poor life choices that led him here, a young couple passed by their table.

The man leaned close to his girlfriend’s ear. “Tonight, I’ll throw you into the desert.”

Her cheeks flushed red. “Me too.”

When they disappeared into a booth, Satania blinked, utterly baffled. “Strange… they’re a couple, right? Why would they throw each other into the desert? Isn’t that dangerous? They’d die without water!”

Kouya slammed his palm against his forehead. “Don’t take everything literally!”

She blinked again. “But they said—”

“Forget it,” he interrupted, staring at the ceiling as if praying for patience. “Just eat your food and pretend you didn’t hear that.”

“Eh? Why?”

“Because the less you know, the safer the world is.”

He regretted everything. Absolutely everything. Date practice? Worst. Idea. Ever. (╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻!

…

“I’m digging in!” Satania clapped her hands together and smiled widely.

Kouya didn’t respond, focusing on his meal. The first bite instantly lifted his mood—it was warm, crispy, perfectly seasoned. Small blessings counted.

Then the door slid open again.

A woman entered, tall, graceful, wrapped in a beige coat. Her steps were firm, her gaze sharp beneath her calm smile. None of that mattered.

What mattered was that Kouya knew her.

“Shizuka-sensei! Over here!” Satania waved enthusiastically. “You came to eat too? Let’s eat together!”

Kouya froze. His soul nearly left his body.

Shut up, you idiot! Do you even know what awkward means?!

Two students eating together and running into their teacher—it was a social disaster in motion.

“Hmm?” Hiratsuka Shizuka turned toward them, curiosity in her eyes. Spotting the two, she smiled knowingly and walked over.

“Well, well. You two having dinner together?” she asked, settling beside Satania like she owned the place.

“Yes!” Satania said proudly. “Kouya treated me!”

Shizuka glanced at him, lips curling into amusement. “Kouya, not even a hello?”

Kouya sighed. “Evening.”

“No ‘Sensei’?” she teased.

“This isn’t school,” he said evenly. “And I doubt you want to be bound by that label outside of class.”

Shizuka chuckled softly. “Fair enough.”

She crossed her arms under her chest and leaned back, watching them with subtle curiosity. Recently, she’d had her hands full managing a certain hopeless romantic who nearly gave up on life until the Service Club dragged him back on track. Compared to that, Kouya—quiet, detached, and oddly mature—was a mystery she couldn’t ignore.

Still, she hadn’t expected to see him like this, sitting across from Satania, whose expression screamed proud and clueless.

She tapped her finger on the table rhythmically, her long legs crossing elegantly. The faint glimmer of pale skin under the table light drew brief glances from nearby patrons.

“So, where’s Gabriel? Not tagging along?”

Why bring up that useless fallen angel? Probably gaming or lazing somewhere!

“So just you two… out together… eating?” she asked, stressing the word with playful intent.

Kouya shut his eyes briefly. Please stop. She doesn’t get innuendo.

“Well,” Shizuka continued with a sly smirk, “since I’m here, allow me to give some advice—don’t get too close to idiots—”

She paused mid-sentence. “Actually… never mind.”

Too late! You said it! The damage is done!

“Eh? Was Sensei talking about me?” Satania asked innocently, cheeks puffed as she chewed her omelet rice.

You noticed that much, huh?!

“Not at all,” Shizuka said quickly, looking away. Her lie was painfully obvious.

Please at least pretend to lie convincingly!

The door curtain lifted again, and in walked another woman—voluptuous, composed, with an unmistakable ahoge bouncing on her head. She carried two bottled drinks in one hand.

“Yo, Shizuka! Over here,” Shizuka’s friend called.

The woman turned toward them and began walking over, heels clicking lightly against the floor.

Kouya’s expression twitched. His evening, somehow, was about to reach a new level of chaos.

He could practically see his future forum post already: Help. During fake date training with classmate. Ran into short-tempered teacher. Now neighbor’s older sister joining. What do I do. SOS.

“Shizuka, which drink do you—wait, huh?” The newcomer blinked in surprise and set the bottles down. “Kouya? You’re eating here too?”

“That’s right,” he said flatly, resigned to fate.

“And she is…?” Takanashi Touka’s gaze fell on Satania, who was now happily nibbling on grilled squid like it was the finest meal on earth.

“Oh, her? She’s Rikka’s friend, Satania,” Kouya answered mechanically, his spirit already halfway gone.

Crack!

The sound of plastic crumpling echoed sharply as Touka’s hand clenched one of the bottles.

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