We were sitting at a table by the window in a small bakery a few minutes’ walk from the park. The smell of freshly baked pastries, coffee, and rich vanilla filled the air, while the morning sun streamed through the wide windows and fell across our table.
An angel sat directly across from me, peacefully taking small bites of her strawberry cake.
As for how we had ended up here, the answer was simple.
Of course I had accepted her offer!
I might have even accepted before she finished making it.
The moment she offered to buy me something after our run, an overly eager "Sure!" had escaped my mouth. Once I realized how excited I sounded, I cleared my throat and tried to salvage the situation in a calmer tone.
"I mean, if you’re that determined to apologize... it would be rude of me to refuse."
Whether I had sounded convincing was debatable, but she smiled as if she hadn’t noticed the desperation behind my words and brought me here.
When we reached the counter, she claimed she couldn’t decide and ordered strawberry cake, chocolate cheesecake, and two small éclairs. I had been so focused on watching her choose that I simply pointed at the first cake in the display and ordered another unsweetened coffee that was far too bitter.
I still had no idea what flavor the cake in front of me was.
The frosting was white, and there was a small piece of chocolate on top. That was all I needed to know for now.
I took a small sip of my coffee. As the bitter taste spread across my tongue, I used every ounce of willpower I had not to grimace. Meanwhile, the girl across from me was already reaching for her third dessert.
"Can you really eat all of that?" I asked.
She pulled the fork from her mouth and tilted her head slightly. Since she hadn’t swallowed yet, one of her cheeks was puffed out, and her wide eyes studied my face as if trying to understand why I had asked.
Something this simple shouldn’t be allowed to look this cute.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled by the cake in her mouth.
I quickly lowered my gaze to my coffee.
"It’s nothing... I was just wondering how your stomach could possibly hold all that."
She swallowed and looked at the desserts spread across the table.
"I got hungry after our run. Besides, this isn’t that much."
I was the last person who had any right to question the energy needs of someone who had just done forty pull-ups without breaking a sweat. Even so, I couldn’t help looking at her slim waist and wondering how she planned to finish enough desserts to cover half the table.
Maybe sugar was the secret behind her superhuman strength.
As I filed that important piece of information away, she cut another piece from her cake. She chewed in silence for a few seconds, then looked back at me and asked something I hadn’t expected.
"By the way, are you a model or something?"
My coffee cup stopped in front of my lips.
"A model?"
"Yeah." She set her fork on the edge of her plate and began examining me more carefully. "Your facial features are perfect for modeling. You’re always running and trying to stay in shape too, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you were one."
I slowly set the cup back on its saucer and pressed my palm against my forehead. My shoulders slumped as the last scraps of masculine pride I had managed to gather that morning scattered beneath the table.
Normally, a person should be happy to receive a compliment about their face. The problem was that she didn’t see me as a handsome man. She saw me as a girl pretty enough to walk down a runway.
If I had actually been a girl, I would probably be smiling right now and thanking her for the compliment. Unfortunately, I was a man, and having the beautiful girl across from me mistake me for a female model wasn’t doing much for my confidence.
I sighed deeply.
"No, I’m not a model. I’m studying music, and I’ll be starting university soon."
"You’re a musician?!"
Her eyes lit up instantly. She leaned forward in excitement, causing some of her blonde hair to slide over her shoulder and spill across the table.
"Now that I think about how beautiful your voice is, I really should’ve guessed."
My left eye twitched.
I knew she didn’t mean anything bad by it. She wasn’t trying to insult me. In her own way, she was complimenting me, but every nice thing she said turned into another dagger in my heart.
First, my face was pretty enough for modeling. Now my voice was beautiful enough for a musician.
If we kept talking, she might start praising my elegant hands and slim waist next. At this rate, I would have to check my ID when we left the bakery just to convince myself I was still a man.
I forced a smile onto my face.
"Haha... Thanks for the compliments."
"What do you play?" she asked, then started listing possibilities before waiting for my answer. "Guitar? Or do you just sing without playing an instrument?"
Her guess was surprisingly accurate.
The original owner of this body, Noctis, played guitar and sang. Among the memories I had inherited from him were several images of a guitar in his apartment and of him singing. However, those weren’t my talents, and even if some muscle memory remained in this body, I hadn’t had a chance to test it yet.
The moment I said I played guitar, she might ask me to play something. If she learned I could sing, she would definitely want to hear my voice, and I had no intention of embarrassing myself doing either.
Fortunately, I had one talent that genuinely belonged to me from my old life.
My mother had started sending me to piano lessons when I was eight. At first, I hated repeating the same boring exercises every week, but over time I had grown used to sitting at the keys. Eventually, I even began to enjoy it.
I hadn’t been a professional musician in my old life, but I could comfortably say I was better at the piano than most people.
"Piano," I said as evenly as possible.
Her eyebrows rose slightly.
"Piano? Hmm... Honestly, I wouldn’t have expected that from you."
"Why?"
"I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel like your style." She tilted her head and looked me up and down. "I can’t really picture you sitting seriously at a piano and playing classical music with that blue hair."
I frowned and straightened in my chair.
"For your information, this is my natural hair color."
She blinked several times.
"Really? Are you sure it isn’t dyed?"
I nodded with great pride. I had no idea why I was so proud of a hair color I had been born with, but I felt the need to defend one of the few advantages I possessed.
"It’s never been dyed. Not even once."
"Wow..." She leaned a little closer and carefully examined my hair. "Even the roots really are blue. I was sure you dyed it."
"You’re remarkably talented at making incorrect assumptions about me."
Of course, she completely missed the meaning beneath my words. After smiling cheerfully, she picked up her fork again and cut a small piece from her chocolate cheesecake.
"Actually, my mother is really into music too," she said. "She even used to be in a band when she was younger."
"Really?"
"Yea, she was the drummer. Wait, I’ll show you a picture."
She quickly placed her fork on the plate and picked up her phone. Her fingers moved across the screen as she scrolled through her gallery, searching for the photo.
While I watched her, I took another sip of my coffee. The bitterness had grown stronger as it cooled, but I continued drinking with great dignity because I didn’t want to make a face in front of her.
"Found it!"
My angel excitedly turned her phone around and showed me the screen.