My Classmate Whom I Helped Seems to Be Mentally Sick, So I've Been Trying My Best to Hide My True Identity, But It Seems Like I've Been Found Out - Chapter 27

Gently

“How is it? Delicious? Hey, do you want seconds?”

“… I’m… I’m full already.”

“Really? You’re not going to dine out with someone after this? Maybe with Mifune-san?”

“No, I’m not… I don’t have any plans with Mifune-san.”

“I see. Ah, we just ran out of rice. Hehe, you ate a lot.”

It seems the three-cup rice cooker is empty now.

I’ve finished all that rice.

No, it was poured into my mouth as if it was a bowl of soba noodles.

As soon as I swallow, the next spoonful of curry is brought.

I can’t even prevent it because my hands are tied, and there’s no way to defend.

If I close my mouth, the hot curry comes closer to my lips, so I open my mouth in fear.

My stomach is so full I feel like I’m going to throw up.

The taste is good, and I think it’s more delicious than any curry I’ve eaten anywhere else, so somehow, I can swallow it, but it’s still my limit.

Really, I’m glad the rice cooker wasn’t a five-cup one.

“Well then, I’ll untie you now.”

And finally, I was released from the ropes.

“…Ouch.”

Being tied up for about an hour has made my body stiff, and the ropes bit into my wrists because I resisted a bit; it stings.

As I try to loosen my finally freed body by rotating my shoulders, Sumire Murasaki gently holds my hand.

“?”

“I’m sorry, it hurt, didn’t it? Hey, are you mad?”

“No, I’m… not mad.”

“Really? You do lie, Takizawa-kun. Isn’t that also a lie?”

“It’s not… a lie.”

Of course, I’m not mad.

Rather, I’m so scared and confused that I don’t even know where my anger has gone.

And although I hate to admit it, even in this situation, my heart is racing because she is holding my hand.

“Really? Hey, doesn’t it hurt?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt? I’m fine.”

Anyway, I will feel weird now if she doesn’t let go of this hand.

Sumire Murasaki is, in appearance, an extremely beautiful girl, regardless of what’s inside.

Being close to such a girl, having my hand held by her, and being alone in the house is too stimulating for me.

“No, let me see properly? Hey, will it hurt a little less if I do this?”

“O-okay.”

But she doesn’t let go of that hand.

She firmly holds my palm with her right hand and gently strokes my wrist with her left hand.

A sweet fragrance is drifting.

Even though the kitchen is filled with the smell of curry, a sweet fragrance envelops me as if I’m in a field of flowers.

The sun is setting.

Just like that, the quiet time with her gently stroking my hand slowly passed by.