I Thought It Was the Restroom

Today’s breakfast was clam miso soup.

Nothing special, just the kind you could find anywhere.

Well, there was one special thing about it: who made it.

If you’ve stuck with this story all the way to volume eleven, you probably already know where this is going.

Haruna? Sure, she was special. Her cooking was incredible. She made dishes so good they felt unreal, like something a genius dreamed up.

But she didn’t make this miso soup.

Seraphim? Definitely special. Her cooking was unbelievably awful. And by awful, I didn’t mean it wasn’t tasty; it was downright dangerous. More lethal than blow fish.

But she didn’t make this miso soup either.

So that leaves who? Exactly.

There were four of us living in this house, counting me. Which meant there was only one person left.

“Wow, this tastes amazing!”

I slurped the miso soup and gave Eu a smile.

“Haruna taught me.”

“I practiced and practiced for you, big brother!”

Plate armor and gauntlets.