Chapter 138 - 138 PRIDE?

🖕🏻AM N. NOT.

After the woman relieved herself, she spent at least a full hour cleaning the place.

Thankfully, the cameraman was actually a woman...

(゜ロ゜)

!!ヽ(ﾟдﾟヽ)(ﾉﾟдﾟ)ﾉ!!

In Nemuri's Condo

Maki was in the kitchen, quietly preparing dinner. The soft sound of simmering broth filled the room.

On the sofa, Nemuri scrolled through her phone, reading the comments under Maki's newly uploaded video. He had posted it himself this time. Most of the comments were the usual—praise, admiration, a few harmless critiques—but one caught her attention.

Maki had replied to someone.

Curious, she tapped the profile picture. It was just a pair of headphones—nothing special. She almost dismissed it. There were countless fake accounts online pretending to be famous people.

But when she opened the page, her breath hitched.

It was verified. Official.

It was Uta—the greatest diva known throughout the entire world.

Nemuri swallowed.

Even she was listening to Maki's music… drawn to that pure, raw youthfulness in his voice.

Then she remembered something.

Among the new students assigned to Class S… Uta was one of them.

A slow smile curved on Nemuri's lips.

A duet?

The idea bloomed instantly in her mind. She wanted to hear them together—Uta's legendary brilliance intertwined with Maki's unpolished but genuine sound. Pure youth and refined stardom in one performance.

Maki was already a fan of Uta's music. This could work.

Oh, she definitely wanted to hear that.

While she was quietly constructing plans in her head, Maki focused on the stove.

Tonight's dish was avgolemono—a traditional egg-lemon soup.

The base was simple: chicken broth, shredded chicken, and rice. Steam rose gently as it simmered. In a separate bowl, he prepared the liaison—a mixture of whole eggs and freshly squeezed lemon juice.

To prevent the eggs from turning into scrambled bits in the soup, he carefully tempered them, whisking in ladles of hot broth slowly, gradually warming the mixture before pouring it back into the pot.

He stirred with care. Smooth. Creamy. Fragrant.

When it was done, he carried the pot to the dining table, placing it carefully in the center. He set down plates, spoons, forks.

Tea for Nemuri.

Black coffee for himself.

Then he called out softly.

"Nem-nem… the food's ready."

He heard her approaching.

Nemuri stood from the sofa and walked to the table. The scent greeted her immediately—bright, warm, comforting. She sat across from him, eyes lingering on the unfamiliar dish.

Before eating, Maki murmured his quiet thanks for the meal.

Then they began.

Nemuri savored every spoonful. The balance of citrus and richness was perfect. It felt new. Refreshing.

Across from her, Maki ate silently.

Something is missing… he thought.

But he couldn't tell what.

After finishing, Nemuri lifted her cup of tea, sipping slowly. Maki leaned back slightly, drinking his black coffee, resting.

Then she spoke.

"Maki-chan. We're moving out."

He looked at her.

"It's your decision," he replied softly. "I haven't really paid for anything…"

It was barely more than a whisper—but Nemuri heard it clearly.

She knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Maki," she said gently, "what is there to worry about?"

He couldn't meet her eyes.

Without her, he wouldn't have this life—the freedom to cook, to eat what he liked, to exist comfortably. The thought pressed against his chest like shame.

He couldn't even bring food to the table financially. It was always her.

If that wasn't embarrassing, then perhaps one ought to question their own principles.

Because to live off someone's devotion, to accept everything without giving anything back—and still hold onto pride—wasn't strength.

It was shame dressed in silence.

Nemuri watched him lower his gaze and sighed softly. She stood and walked around the table, stopping beside him. She leaned down, resting her hands on his broad shoulders.

"Tell me, Maki. What am I to you?"

He answered immediately.

"My everything."

She wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him gently against her.

"Then what is there to worry about?" she whispered. "Didn't I tell you before? I'll take good care of you."

He said nothing.

He didn't answer her.

What more could a useless man like him possibly say? In his mind, he was nothing but a burden—living freely under her care, contributing nothing in return. And yet he still had the audacity to let such thoughts linger inside him.

To voice them aloud would only make him seem shameless. Thick-skinned. Prideful in the worst way.

No—this wasn't pride.

It was humiliation.

So he stayed silent, swallowing every word before it could ever reach his lips.

Nemuri had seen this countless times.

Whenever something touched his insecurities, he lowered his head and fell silent.

She didn't understand that part of him.

Why did he act as if he owed her everything? Why carry guilt like it was his birthright?

So she stayed quiet and simply hugged him from behind.

There were many things she had learned about him over time.

First—he was a light drinker.

Second—beautiful scenery could mesmerize him for hours.

Third—he was overwhelmingly grateful for everything he received. Like when Hizashi gifted him a brand-new Patek Philippe for his birthday. He never wore it. He just stared at it, cleaned it, treasured it like something sacred.

He treated gifts as if they were pieces of someone's heart.

Fourth—he had a "fish brain." He forgot things easily if he didn't find them important.

Fifth—he isolated himself. Whenever she asked why, he stayed silent.

Sixth—when conversations became heavy or personal, he retreated inward.

Seventh—he claimed not to care about much… as long as he could eat.

Eighth—if he felt out of place, he would quietly leave without causing a scene.

Ninth—he loved the sea.

But lately… something about him felt different.

It was as if he were acting.

As if he was playing a role—behaving the way others expected him to behave.

That unsettled her.

Even though they had been together for a long time, he still couldn't express what he truly wanted. Even during their intimate moments or shared hobbies, he often just followed her lead.

Like he was mimicking life instead of living it.

As if he could disappear at any moment.

Maybe I'm overthinking…

She tightened her embrace.

"Maki," she said softly, "do you know what you are to me?"

She waited.

He didn't ask.

So she answered anyway.

"You're my everything too. So it's okay. Do you understand?"

She searched his face for something—anything.

He simply nodded.

And that was all.

!!ヽ(ﾟдﾟヽ)(ﾉﾟдﾟ)ﾉ!!

AM N. NOT.