Yukino Yukinoshita, Yui Yuigahama, Yuzuru Yamai, Yamakusa Yamai, Himeragi Yukina.
A cooking exhibition of five beautiful girls led by Yukinoshita—while Hachiman Hikigaya was responsible for tasting.
It sounded like an enviable harem romantic comedy.
The kind of scenario that would make normies nod approvingly and light novel protagonists run away in embarrassment.
But in Hikigaya’s eyes, this was a trial of hell.
The lesson from Yui Yuigahama was still fresh in his mind—burned into his memory, seared onto his taste buds, haunting his nightmares.
It made Hikigaya clearly realize that beautiful girls absolutely could not be equated with good cooking.
There was no correlation, he thought.
None.
Zero.
A beautiful girl was just as likely to create a biological weapon as a delicious dessert.
Although there was also the psychological effect that it was delicious because it was made by a beautiful girl—the placebo effect of attractiveness—but…
Poison.
It was a real poison.
The taste of that piece of charcoal still made Hikigaya feel lingering fear.
Just Yuigahama alone was already scary enough.
Who could guarantee that there wouldn’t be a second Yuigahama?
Who could guarantee that one of these four other girls wasn’t hiding the same culinary demon inside?
Yukinoshita rolled up her sleeves—cleanly, neatly, with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times—and cracked the eggs.
No shells.
No mess.
No chaos.
She began to mix the flour.
It was completely different from Yui Yuigahama.
There were no eggshells at all.
The flour was mixed very evenly without any clumps.
Her movements were smooth, practiced, almost elegant.
So skillful, Hikigaya observed.
Although it was clear she was deliberately slowing down her movements—for the benefit of her students—one could easily see the high level of Yukinoshita’s culinary skills.
This was not someone who followed recipes.
This was someone who understood cooking.
And behind her, the four contestants…
No need to even look at Yuigahama.
She was a lost cause in the kitchen.
He had already accepted that.
Yuzuru, he noted, is a bit clumsy, huh?
How cute.
…Not that I said that out loud.
As for Kaguya—regardless of how the taste turned out—at least it looked like she was learning well.
Her posture was good.
Her focus was admirable.
As for Himeragi…
Her womanly power is completely overflowing.
It looks like the three high school students are a bit embarrassing, Hikigaya realized.
Getting completely crushed by a middle school student!
Wait.
Is Himeragi cheating?
He narrowed his eyes.
He could vaguely sense a subtle aura circulating within Himeragi Yukina’s body—similar to the feeling when Himeragi used the Sekkarou.
The concentration was particularly strong around her eyes.
Magic power?
Cursed power?
Hikigaya was a layman and didn’t quite understand.
But he could understand that Himeragi must have used a spell—Spirit Vision, probably—to precisely capture Yukinoshita’s movements.
Then, through her excellent body control ability, she imitated them.
Although it couldn’t be called an exact copy—there were slight differences in timing, in pressure—judging by Himeragi’s current results, she should be the best among the four apprentices.
This scummy Himeragi, he thought.
But in a sense, he admitted, it is also a skill that completely belongs to her.
So it cannot be entirely called cheating.
…It’s called “using your resources.”
I respect that.
After confirming that every student had prepared their dough—and that no one had created any new biohazards—Teacher Yukinoshita distributed the molds.
She placed a portion of everyone’s work into the preheated oven at once.
Efficient, Hikigaya thought.
No favorites.
No special treatment.
This woman would make a terrifying CEO one day.
In just a little while, the aroma of cookies wafted out.
Very good.
Hikigaya breathed a sigh of relief.
Although he didn’t know how the taste would be—the proof was in the eating, after all—at least in terms of smell, it was no longer an inedible industrial compound.
No burning.
No chemical odors.
No hints of despair.
This is progress, he told himself.
Small progress, but progress.
A moment later, Teacher Yukinoshita precisely timed it—of course she did—and took the cookies out of the oven.
However, Hikigaya felt that this actually counted as Yukinoshita helping to complete a part of the process.
Baking was a very important part of cooking, and now this part had been done by Yukinoshita.
The students had only prepared the dough.
But given Yuigahama’s track record, he reasoned, this was probably a necessary safety measure.
We couldn’t trust her with an oven.
Not after what happened.
That oven had seen things.
The five portions of cookies were placed on the table.
Hikigaya was a little nervous.
It didn’t look so much like eating cookies as it did like choosing a partner.
Which one will betray me?, he wondered.
…Why am I treating this like a dating show?
The first that caught his eye was Yukino Yukinoshita’s demonstration piece.
The baked cookies were a tan color—golden brown, the kind of color that food magazines used for their covers.
Completely different from the burnt charcoal of the previous work.
It could be said to be a perfect cookie in the true sense.
Perfect, he amended, might be a bit of an exaggeration.
This wasn’t a food anime.
The food wouldn’t glow.
There were no weird drugs added.
Clothes wouldn’t explode off characters upon consumption.
That would be weird, he thought.
And unsanitary.
However, it was indeed as exquisite as the handmade cookies sold in stores—the kind that came in fancy boxes and cost way too much for what was essentially flour and sugar.
“I’m digging in.”
Hikigaya prayed earnestly.
This cookie deserved a pious sense of ritual.
It had earned that respect by merely existing without looking like a war crime.
He took a bite.
“Delicious!”
Hikigaya raised an eyebrow—genuinely surprised, genuinely impressed.
A sweet and fragrant flavor exploded on his taste buds.
Yukinoshita had perfectly grasped the ratio of sugar and flavoring.
The baking time was just right, making the cookies crispy without being too hard.
Another piece!
This was the first time in Hikigaya’s life he had eaten handmade cookies baked by a girl—a real girl, not a family member—and he had to say it was a very wonderful life experience.
Oh, he added quickly, Yumi-chan doesn’t count.
It wasn’t that a gyaru couldn’t count as a girl.
It was just that that stuff really couldn’t be called cookies.
That stuff was a crime against humanity.
“That’s amazing,” Hikigaya said aloud, reaching for another piece.
“As expected of Yukinoshita-san.”
“Yukino is really amazing!” Yuzuru grabbed a cookie.
“Super delicious, desu!”
“Yuzuru,” Kaguya said calmly, “please don’t eat them all by yourself.”
The rest of the demonstration batch was divided among everyone—Yuzuru’s grabby hands, Kaguya’s measured portions, even Yui sneaking one with a guilty expression.
And then Hachiman Hikigaya began to taste the Yamai Sisters’ work.
How should he put it?
It was a qualified beginner’s work.
Compared to Yukinoshita’s demonstration piece, the taste was much worse.
The appearance could only be described as average—lopsided in places, uneven in color.
But it already met the passing line that a beginner could reach.
Not bad, he thought.
Not good, but not bad.
For a first attempt?
Respectable.
Then he moved to the other portion.
Himeragi’s.
Hikigaya picked up a piece.
The shape was clean.
The color was even.
It looked like a cookie—not a lump of coal, not an abstract sculpture, not a biological hazard.
“It looks pretty good,” he said.
He took a bite.
At the first taste, there was the milky fragrance and sweetness of the cookie.
The ratio felt very good—balanced, thoughtful, professional.
The only shortcoming was probably that it was slightly uneven in thickness, leading to some parts being a fraction softer than others.
But if he had to give it a score…
It could be called an excellent work.
Especially for a middle schooler.
Especially for someone who had never done this before.
…Damn it, Hikigaya thought, taking another bite.
The government-issued observer can cook too.
What can’t she do?
“Senpai?” Himeragi watched him nervously.
“How is it?”
Hikigaya chewed slowly.
Swallowed.
Met her eyes.
“Not bad,” he said.
Not bad, his taste buds echoed.
Really, really not bad.
…I’m going to need to raise my standards for “not bad.”
Himeragi’s face lit up—and for some reason, that made Hikigaya look away.
The cookies were fine, he told himself.
The smiling was unnecessary.
…Unnecessary and dangerous.
“Senpai, what do you think?”
Himeragi’s voice was soft, expectant—the kind of tone that made Hikigaya’s brain short-circuit for just a moment.
What did he think?
He thought a lot of things.
He thought about the cookies.
He thought about the taste.
He thought about how this middle schooler had somehow outperformed two high school upperclassmen.
But what came out of his mouth was something else entirely.
“I think Himeragi will definitely be a good wife in the future.” He nodded sagely.
“Womanly power max!”
“Eh?”
Himeragi Yukina’s little face flushed red—crimson, bright red, the kind of red that made Hikigaya realize he had said something very, very wrong.
“I was just asking if the cookies were tasty, Senpai!”
“Super tasty,” Hikigaya said, doubling down because he had no idea how to retreat.
“Himeragi’s learning ability is very strong.”
…Or maybe he meant them.
No.
Stop.
Don’t think about it.
“Hikigaya-kun over there.” Yukino’s voice was ice wrapped in silk.
“Don’t sexually harass a middle school student. I’m going to call the police.”
Damn it.
It wasn’t sexual harassment.
It was a simple compliment.
A compliment about future life skills.
Completely innocent.
Completely platonic.
The fact that his face was slightly warm was irrelevant.
But considering her cookies were really delicious, Lord Hikigaya would be merciful and not hold it against Yukino.
“Hikigaya-kun,” Yukino said, her eyes narrowing, “is implementing spiritual victory in his heart again.”
“I told you not to use mind reading on people so casually!”
“I didn’t secretly read your mind.” Her lips curved—just slightly, just enough to be infuriating.
“It’s just that your inner thoughts are all clearly expressed through your dead-fish eyes.”
Where did this psychological profiler come from?
Hikigaya seriously suspected that a monster like a snow woman definitely came with mind-reading abilities bundled into her racial package.
It was the only explanation.
That, or he was just incredibly easy to read.
…He didn’t like either option.
“Hikki!” Yui Yuigahama pushed her plate forward, her eyes bright with desperate hope.
“Try the cookies I made!”
Hikigaya stared at the offering.
“Have the hungry ghosts of hell finally brought up mud mixed with the water from the Sanzu River?”
“This is not miso soup mixed with rice!”
So you’re not denying the hell part, right?
That was practically a confession.
Although he was complaining like this—because complaining was his love language, probably—the gentle Hachiman Hikigaya still picked up a piece of Yuigahama-san’s new work.
He had to admit: although it still looked poor—lopsided, uneven, bearing the scars of its traumatic creation—compared to the alien radiation mutant material from the beginning, it was no longer in the same dimension.
That first cookie had been a war crime.
This one was just…
a very ugly cookie.
Progress, he told himself.
We take those.
He took a bite.
Chew.
Chew.
Chew.
“What are your thoughts?” Yui leaned forward, practically vibrating.
Hikigaya chewed thoughtfully.
Swallowed.
Considered his words carefully.
“It should be able to replenish sugar and energy.”
“I’m asking you about the taste!” Her voice rose.
“The taste!”
“Listen to me, Oil Cake.” He held up a hand, philosophical.
“Food isn’t just about the surface taste. It should be said that the inner nutrition is the more important thing.”
“I don’t want to hear this kind of comfort at all!”
Comfort?, Hikigaya thought.
Who said anything about comfort?
I was just stating facts.
Scientifically.
Teacher Yukinoshita—who had been watching this exchange with the expression of a biologist observing a particularly puzzling specimen—also picked up a piece of Yui’s cookies.
She put it in her mouth.
She chewed.
She couldn’t help but frown.
“In terms of species,” Yukino said slowly, as if the words pained her, “it can be called a cookie.” She stared at the remaining pieces.
“But the steps were obviously all the same. So why is the taste so different?”
Her gaze swept across the group.
“And even Yuzuru—who is clumsy—made something that tastes far better than this.”
Yuzuru tilted her head.
“Yuzuru is not that clumsy, desu.”
“You spilled flour on the floor three times,” Kaguya said flatly.
“That was… intentional. For atmosphere.”
Atmosphere, Hikigaya repeated in his head.
Cooking atmosphere.
With spilled flour.
…I love this angel.
Yukino ignored the exchange, her eyes fixed on Yui with analytical intensity—the kind a scientist might use when studying an anomaly that defied all known laws of physics.
“Where is the problem?” she murmured.
Where, indeed?, Hikigaya thought.
He looked at Yui—at her hopeful, desperate, embarrassed face.
At the way she fidgeted with her apron strings.
At the way she refused to meet anyone’s eyes for too long.
The problem, he suspected, wasn’t in the recipe.
The problem was in the baker.
But he didn’t say that.
Some truths were too painful for a Tuesday afternoon.
“The problem,” Hikigaya said instead, “is that Oil Cake’s hands were cursed by a witch in a past life.”
“That’s not helpful, Hikki!”
“I’m being very helpful. I’ve identified the root cause. Past-life curse. Very serious. Requires specialized treatment.”
“Hikigaya-kun,” Yukino sighed, “please stop making things up.”
“I’m not making things up. I’m theorizing.”
Theorizing, he thought, was just making things up with confidence.
And he had plenty of confidence.