Shirakawa’s original intention was to put Ran Mouri at ease.
It was also to answer what Ran Mouri had asked him in the kitchen earlier.
After saying that, he went downstairs to get his clothes, preparing to take a shower.
He was completely unaware that this answer had caused Ran Mouri’s cheeks to flush with shyness.
It wasn’t for any other reason, but rather that this answer reminded Ran Mouri of the strange question she had inexplicably asked Shirakawa in the kitchen: ‘There’s no sweaty smell now, right?’
“Ahhh…”
The young girl, shyly covering her face with one hand, fled back to her room with the photo album.
She lay on the bed, hitting the mattress with her pink fist: “Why does it feel so strange…”
A few minutes later.
In the bathroom, steam was rising.
Shirakawa and Conan Edogawa were soaking together in the warm bathtub.
Shirakawa closed his eyes, leaning against the edge of the bathtub to rest, saying nothing.
However, this silence seemed to take on a different meaning in Conan Edogawa’s eyes.
Conan Edogawa secretly opened one eye, glancing at the silent Shirakawa beside him, feeling incredibly guilty.
Could he still be suspecting my identity?
Is he thinking right now about what method to use to expose me?
The more Conan Edogawa thought about it, the more afraid he became, scaring himself silly; he felt as if the surrounding hot water had turned into a boiling vat of oil.
He couldn’t stay any longer; after soaking in the bathtub for a few minutes, he found the excuse that the “water was too hot,” hurriedly put on his clothes, and fled the bathroom in a panic.
Shirakawa opened his eyes, watching Conan Edogawa’s retreating figure as he fled in defeat, a look of confusion in his eyes.
What is this brat acting up about again?
He shook his head, didn’t take the matter to heart, and continued to ponder his own questions.
From the kitchen to the living room, Ran Mouri had mentioned a “sweaty smell,” and Uncle Mouri had also complained about it at the dinner table.
Even that brat Conan Edogawa had said he only smelled sweat.
Only he had smelled a unique, faint, and slightly cloying fragrance, which even made him feel refreshed.
Combining all the signs, Shirakawa reached the only conclusion.
His sense of smell produced a “false” identification when facing Ran Mouri.
Simply put, his genes, or rather his body, was telling him in a special way—the woman in front of him was exceptional.
“Isn’t this just like a pervert…”
Shirakawa felt a sense of helplessness regarding his peculiar constitution.
Moreover, no matter how exceptional Ran Mouri was, it had nothing to do with him; such a super beautiful girl was destined to be from a different world than him.
After finishing his bath, Shirakawa returned to his small utility room.
His mind began to look forward to the trial work life at Café Poirot tomorrow.
Regardless, the most important thing was to survive in this world first.
Early the next morning, just as the sky began to turn white, Shirakawa, with the nervous heart of someone with social anxiety on their first day of work, arrived at Café Poirot downstairs. You are reading on NovelPing, the official source.
He thought he had arrived early enough, but he didn’t expect the lights in the shop to already be on.
As his work “senior,” Enomoto Azusa was busy behind the counter wearing an apron.
Hearing the doorbell, Enomoto Azusa looked up and saw Shirakawa; her face immediately blossomed into a smile as bright as the sun.
“Shirakawa-kun, good morning!
You’ve arrived so early!”
She quickly walked around from behind the counter, holding a steaming cup of coffee, and proactively handed it to Shirakawa.
“I brewed this myself; give it a taste, I hope it brings you a good mood for the day!”
Enomoto Azusa’s voice was so gentle it felt like it could drip water, full of encouragement and expectation.
Shirakawa accepted the coffee, flattered; he felt the cup in his hand was a bit hot, and his heart was warmed to a mess.
However, after work officially started, Shirakawa quickly experienced the cruelty of reality.
At first, he tried to use his previous work experience to handle things with a’strictly business’ mindset.
But as some people who were clearly regular customers started to strike up conversations, asking him this and that.
Shirakawa’s meager social experience began to fall short.
Conversing with a large number of unfamiliar faces in a short period of time caused Shirakawa’s social energy bar to empty rapidly.
His palms involuntarily broke into a cold sweat, his body stiffened like a robot, he didn’t dare to look directly into the customers’ eyes, and he even started stuttering.
During the peak breakfast rush.
While refilling the condiment jars at the counter, Shirakawa’s hand shook, and the jar filled with white sugar slipped from his hand, hitting the floor with a “clatter.”
The crystalline white sugar spilled all over the floor.
Shirakawa’s mind went blank, leaving only a buzzing roar.
“Ah…
I, I’m sorry!”
He hurriedly crouched down, trying to clean it up in a panic, but didn’t know where to start.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Enomoto Azusa ran over like a gust of wind, holding a broom and a dustpan.
There was no blame on her face; instead, she smiled and comforted him, “This kind of thing is very common; I also broke several cups when I first came here!
Just leave it to me to handle.”
Afterwards, Shirakawa was assigned to the front desk to be responsible for taking orders.
A customer ordered an iced Americano; because he was nervous, his brain glitched, and he wrote down a hot latte on the order.
When he placed a steaming hot latte in front of the customer, he instantly realized he had made a big mistake.
“I’m very sorry!
I, I’ll redo it for you immediately!”
Shirakawa was so embarrassed his toes curled; he had never imagined he would make such a basic mistake.
“Huh?
It’s a hot latte.” The customer smiled indifferently, picked up the coffee cup, “Perfect, I wanted to change things up and try a hot one today anyway.
Thank you.”
Shirakawa was completely stunned.
This…
Enomoto Azusa saw Shirakawa’s embarrassed state, and like a gentle big sister, she pulled him to the coffee machine and patiently taught him step-by-step how to operate it and how to distinguish different coffee beans.
She even took a notebook with a cute kitten on the cover out of her locker and shoved it into Shirakawa’s hand.
“This is my exclusive shorthand method for taking orders!
I’ll lend it to you!
It’s very useful!”
That enthusiastic demeanor, as if she couldn’t wait to teach him all her secret skills, made Shirakawa feel like he wasn’t here to work, but to reunite with family.
At lunchtime, Shirakawa was responsible for serving meals to customers.
He was carrying a tray with a steaming plate of spaghetti; because of his nervousness, his steps were a bit unsteady.
While passing by a booth, his foot was tripped by something, his body stumbled, and the tray tilted instantly.
Watching that plate of spaghetti covered in tomato meat sauce, it was about to dump entirely onto a customer’s back.
Shirakawa was scared out of his wits, his face pale; he used all his strength to steady the tray, but a few drops of hot sauce still splattered out.
“I’m sorry!
I’m sorry!
I’m really very sorry!” Shirakawa apologized repeatedly.
The person who was almost splashed with noodles was a stern-looking middle-aged man.
Shirakawa had prepared himself to be scolded severely and even felt his job was definitely going to be lost.
However, the man just turned his head calmly; instead of getting angry, he gently comforted him: “It’s okay, young man, don’t be nervous, everyone makes mistakes.”
As he spoke, he even turned the tables and asked with concern: “You didn’t get burned by the steam yourself, did you?”
All of this was seen by Conan Edogawa, who was sitting in the corner, having come to monitor him under the excuse of “coming down to play because I was bored.”
He took small sips of the juice in his cup, but the look behind his lenses was as sharp as a knife.
This man named Shirakawa had made at least five low-level mistakes from morning until now.
Knocking over the sugar jar, getting the order wrong, almost dumping noodles on a customer…
Every time, he performed like a social-anxiety-ridden newbie who had just entered society and was in a panic.
But what was the result?
Enomoto Azusa was extremely caring toward him, and the customers were unusually tolerant of him.
This clumsiness and the strange reactions of the people around him formed a highly uncoordinated sense of harmony.
Conan Edogawa watched Shirakawa’s fearful and anxious appearance, and a cold laugh sounded in his heart.
When looking at the photo album last night, he clearly had an unfathomable appearance.
But now he was clumsy.
Pretend, keep pretending, let’s see how long you can keep it up.
This isn’t social anxiety at all; this is an extremely sophisticated psychological manipulation technique.
By showing weakness and clumsiness to gain others’ sympathy and goodwill, thereby making people completely relax their vigilance.
This man is definitely a master of manipulating hearts.