Chapter 30: I Was Just Temporarily Blinded by Beauty
"How did Rekka turn into snowy white ash..."
"He's burnt out."
Clang.
A spoon hit the floor, echoing through the dining car. Rekka currently looked like a faded sketch ripped straight out of a monochrome manga. His soul had visibly vacated his body, leaving behind a crumbling husk that looked ready to scatter into the wind with a single breath.
"In the future..." March 7th leaned heavily against the metallic wall of the Parlor Car, her vibrant pink hair drooping. She stared blankly at the ceiling, looking as though her very essence had been hollowed out with a melon baller. "...I will never, ever dare to let Sister Himeko into the kitchen again."
A heavy, traumatized silence hung in the air.
"...Agreed," Dan Heng muttered, his usually stoic face carrying a distinct shade of pale green.
When Rekka finally regained consciousness, the first thing he registered was a deep, heavenly softness beneath the back of his head.
He kept his eyes shut. His brain slowly booted up, analyzing the sensory data. A faint, elegant aroma of freshly ground coffee and warm roses drifted into his nose. The cushion beneath him was warm, yielding, and perfectly contoured.
Wait. A lap pillow?
He was lying on Himeko's lap.
Rekka decisively made the executive choice to continue playing dead.
He absolutely had to enjoy this premium treatment for a little while longer. If he didn't milk this moment for all it was worth, how could he possibly justify the sheer psychological and physical trauma of consuming Himeko's hellish culinary creations?
A slightly cool, slender hand gently pressed against his forehead. Soft fingers brushed through his bangs, carefully untangling the stray hairs sticking to his brow.
"How can eating a simple meal be this exhausting for him..." Himeko's voice drifted down from above, laced with genuine, heartfelt worry. "Could it be that the flavor profile I designed was a bit too radical?"
Yes. Yes, it was. Exactly that.
"But the Deep-fried Watermelon Strips were quite successful," she murmured to herself, sounding genuinely puzzled. "Dan Heng ate a whole plate without complaining."
Rekka's internal monologue fired off a salute. As expected of Dan Heng. The man possessed a stomach forged from pure star-metal, casually accomplishing feats mere mortals could only dream of.
"Rekka? Can you hear me?"
Himeko leaned down. A waterfall of long, fiery red hair cascaded over him, the silken strands brushing lightly against the hollow of his neck. It tickled.
He could feel the warmth of her breath ghosting across his cheek.
Oh no. Sister Himeko was leaning way too close.
This lap pillow was undeniably a top-tier earthly delight, but if he opened his eyes right now and found that stunningly beautiful face hovering mere inches from his own, he seriously doubted his own self-control. The urge to do something incredibly offensive would be dangerously high. Worse yet, if Himeko realized he had been awake this whole time and was just playing dead to take advantage of her hospitality, the consequences would be apocalyptic.
"Not awake yet..." Himeko sighed softly. "It seems this nutritional combination was indeed a bit too nourishing. Perhaps his body simply hasn't adapted to the cosmic energy yet."
Suddenly, the gentle fingers stroking his hair stopped.
Himeko's golden eyes narrowed slightly. Her gaze locked onto Rekka's eyelids, specifically the tiny, uncontrollable tremors rippling through his eyelashes.
Beneath her, Rekka's heartbeat betrayed him, picking up a frantic rhythm. His breathing hitched, losing its steady, unconscious cadence.
"Oh dear, what should I do?" Himeko deliberately lowered her voice. Her tone dripped with three parts distress and seven parts theatrical regret. "I just went to the kitchen specifically to brew a newly invented special drink. I intended to give it to him when he woke up to soothe his stomach. Now... well, it seems I can only feed it to him using a special method."
Rekka's heart slammed against his ribs.
"Cough! Cough, cough, cough!"
He shot up like a coiled spring, hacking violently. He hadn't choked on anything; his survival instincts had simply kicked into overdrive out of pure, unadulterated terror.
"Oh, you're awake?"
Himeko looked at him, a knowing, radiant smile gracing her lips. She raised a hand and gently patted his heaving chest to help him catch his breath.
"So excited? I was worried you would be unconscious for hours, but you seem to be recovering quite vigorously."
Rekka gasped for air, forcing a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry, Sister Himeko. I was just temporarily blinded by beauty."
Hearing the blatant excuse, Himeko blinked in surprise. A second later, a soft, melodic laugh escaped her lips.
"Then you can stay blinded for a while longer. It is perfectly fine."
Rekka's breath caught in his throat.
Was she teasing him?
Probably not... right? He searched those golden eyes for any hint of a joke, but they looked entirely sincere, pooling with gentle warmth.
But what if she was teasing him?
What if?
"You are blushing," she noted softly.
Rekka immediately slapped a hand over his cheek. It was burning hot. Cursing his own lack of composure, he tried to scramble backward to put some distance between them.
That was a mistake.
The moment he tensed his core muscles, the few mouthfuls of Stir-fried Moth-silk Risotto he had ingested earlier launched a violent rebellion in his stomach. A wave of nausea hit him like a physical blow. His legs turned to jelly, and his balance completely evaporated.
He fell backward again.
This time, his aim was even better. The back of his head landed squarely in the center of Himeko's thighs. The soft, bouncy impact made his entire body lock up, stiffening into a solid plank of wood. Himeko's signature scent usually felt intellectual and elegant from a distance, but pressed this close, it was intoxicatingly rich.
"Come, drink this." Himeko did not seem bothered in the slightest. She simply reached over to the side table and brought a steaming ceramic cup to his lips.
Rekka stared down at the dark liquid sloshing inside, alarm bells shrieking in his mind.
"Sister Himeko, what... what exactly is this?" He swallowed hard, his eyes wide with absolute resistance.
"Honey Citron Tea." Himeko looked down at him, her smile never wavering. "I even added a sprig of fresh mint. Do not worry. This time, it was brewed strictly according to the recipe you modified. Nothing else was added."
Rekka froze.
She knew? She knew he had secretly altered her recipe book to prevent future disasters?
He took a cautious sip. The warm, sweet liquid washed down his throat, instantly soothing the chaotic rebellion in his gut. It had to be admitted—as long as Himeko suppressed her terrifyingly whimsical ideas, the normal food she prepared was actually top-tier.
"Feeling better?" Himeko set the empty cup aside. She produced a pristine white handkerchief and naturally leaned down, dabbing away a stray drop of tea from the corner of his mouth.
"Much better. I have officially returned to the land of the living." Rekka let out a long, heavy exhale, finally allowing his rigid muscles to relax.
"That is good to hear."
Himeko tucked the handkerchief away, making absolutely no move to urge him up. She simply let him lie there, her hand resting casually near his shoulder.
Rekka felt exactly like a large, pampered golden retriever receiving premium pets. His body honestly betrayed him, sinking deeper into the luxurious comfort of the lap pillow.
Indeed, women are like fine wine.
Of course, he possessed enough self-preservation instinct to keep the second half of that thought locked safely inside his head.
Eventually, Rekka forced himself to sit up and vacate the lap pillow.
It wasn't that he wanted to leave—far from it. But March 7th had already casually passed by the seating area three separate times. Each time, she carried an expression that screamed she wanted to say something, only to bite her lip and stomp away.
"Are you okay?" March 7th marched over the second he was upright. "Your face was as white as a sheet of paper just now. It was terrifying."
"I'm perfectly fine." Rekka stretched his neck, joints popping satisfyingly. He felt completely refreshed. "Sister Himeko took excellent care of me."
"Ugh..." March 7th clutched her stomach, her face scrunching up as if she were reliving the phantom taste of the risotto.
"What is it, March? Still not used to the flavor profile?" Himeko asked pleasantly. "Then next time, I will adjust the recipe again. I will try to get the ratio of chili oil and powdered sugar more perfect."
"Sister Himeko, please!" March 7th slapped her hands together in a desperate prayer, looking at the older woman with wide, pleading eyes. "There is more than enough normal food stored on the Astral Express! Let's just eat something normal!"
"I am just teasing you." Himeko stood up, smoothing out her skirt, and picked up the empty teacup. "Since Rekka is fine now, I will head back to my room and rest for a bit."
The moment Himeko's elegant figure disappeared through the Parlor Car doors, March 7th's rigidly tense shoulders slumped in massive relief.
She immediately spun around and pointed an accusing finger at Rekka.
"Hey, Rekka."
"What?"
"Looking at your expression just now, it looked like you wished you could permanently grow onto Sister Himeko's legs."
Rekka rubbed his nose, entirely unashamed.
"Listen, if it were you who fainted from eating a bowl of radioactive cooking, Sister Himeko would take care of you the exact same way. What, are you jealous?"
"Who is jealous of that?!" March 7th shrieked, her voice pitching up an octave.
She huffed, crossing her arms and looking away before her gaze slid back to him.
"Speaking of which, your Path is going to change again tomorrow, right?" March 7th leaned closer, her bright blue-and-pink eyes staring intently into his. "You have been so smart and reliable these past two days. If you suddenly turn back into a complete idiot tomorrow, this lady is going to have to adapt all over again."
"What?" Rekka grinned, leaning back against the sofa. "Are you afraid I won't be around to bicker with you?"
"Of course I am!" March 7th blurted out, before catching herself and pouting. "After all, before you came aboard, I could only watch old videos by myself. It is incredibly boring if there is no one around to talk to. Mr. Yang is always busy with his models, Sister Himeko is busy handling, Pom-Pom is busy cleaning... and Dan Heng isn't busy, but he just sits there and doesn't like to talk! Oh, and don't even get me started on the cold jokes..."
"Aha. You finally admitted it."
Rekka pointed at her, his voice dripping with the smug satisfaction of a detective who just cracked a grand conspiracy.
"Admitted what?" March 7th blinked, suddenly defensive.
"You admitted that you like talking to me."
March 7th's expression froze. A beat of silence passed before her face exploded into a brilliant shade of tomato red.
"I-I did not!" she stammered, waving her hands frantically. "I am just... I am just stating objective facts! You are a junior on this train, and taking care of juniors is a senior Trailblazer's absolute responsibility!"
"Right, right, right. Responsibility. Total responsibility." Rekka nodded slowly, plastering a look of deep, mocking understanding across his face.
"What does that expression mean?!"
"It doesn't mean anything." Rekka spread his hands innocently, a chaotic glint in his eyes. "I just think it is quite an honor to be treated as such a heavy responsibility by the great Senior March 7th."
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