After waking up late, skipping breakfast, and returning from the grocery store with ingredients and a few bottles of beer, I set about preparing for my visitor.
Despite having plenty of hot meals stored in my [Item Box], I always cook fresh when someone comes over. The pre-made food is mainly for trade, supplies I sell to other gate-runners. But when I'm entertaining friends, I serve them straight from the pot; smelling the food being cooked is half the experience after all.
Cooking isn't just something I do out of necessity. Before I awakened, I actually considered becoming a chef. The rural town I grew up in didn't have any restaurants, just a single pub that occasionally served meals made from whatever the local harvest yielded.
I still remember my first taste of real restaurant food. We were visiting the capital, my family and I, and we ate at this mid-level place just off the main road. That's when I first felt it. The desire to create something memorable with my own hands. That spark never left me.
Today's lunch is beef rib ragu with pappardelle pasta. It's one of my personal favorites, rich, hearty, and surprisingly easy to make. Conveniently, it's also the most requested dish by the person who'll be joining me.
After seasoning and browning the meat, I hear a knock at the front door. I switch off the stove to avoid any kitchen disasters, grab a cold beer from the fridge, and make my way to answer it.
Opening the door, I'm greeted by the familiar sight of my best friend, fellow gate-runner, and occasional intimate partner: Hinata.
She stands there with sunlight pouring over her shoulder, casting a warm glow across her silvery hair, which is tied into a high ponytail that sways slightly with the breeze. She's dressed in a crisp white blouse tucked into a charcoal-gray skirt that stops just above the knees. She could easily pass for someone on her way to a corporate meeting, if you didn't know better.
Her outfit is simple, but everything about it is meticulously arranged. A slim leather belt cinches her waist, and a light black jacket is draped over her shoulders, half-worn, like she hasn't quite decided whether she's staying or just passing through. A crescent moon pendant dangles from her neck, subtle but eye-catching, like most things about her.
Her golden eyes meet mine with unnerving calm. It's the kind of gaze most people avoid, not because it's cold, but because it feels like she can see too much.
A canvas bag hangs off one shoulder, worn at the corners, but clean and clearly well-used. To a stranger, she might look like just another white-collar professional. But if you watch closely, you'll notice the way she holds herself. Balanced. Grounded. Like someone who knows how to carry weight, both literal and emotional.
Her beauty is undeniably otherworldly.
Her manners, however…
"Before you say anything," she says, stepping in with a smirk, "I need a beer."
Typical. On the surface, she's a composed, graceful beauty, but I know the real her.
I hold out the bottle, and without even stepping fully inside, she's already popped the cap and taken a long drink.
"Aaaah! Perfect. Is that beef I smell? Are you making the ragu I like?"
"Come in before you start composing an ode to my cooking," I say, stepping aside. "We've got a lot to talk about."
We move into the kitchen. Hinata takes her usual seat at the table while I return to the stove and turn the heat back on, stirring the simmering pot.
"Let me finish this beer and relax for a sec before you start yapping," she says, kicking off her black heels and stretching out with exaggerated tiredness. "I just came from a loot distribution meeting with a D-Rank guild leader who tried to change our deal halfway through so I'd end up signing on as a member."
Hinata is an extremely successful gate-runner. She's a C-rank awakened and solidly in the upper 20-level bracket. Despite her chaotic personality, she's probably one of the most accomplished solo C-rankers in the country. We've teamed up many times before, and every time, she reminds me why I admire her so much.
But I've known her since before either of us awakened. We grew up in the same village, just two kids the same age, getting into trouble together. She was always a bit of a tomboy. We spent hours stick-fighting in the woods, catching frogs near the lake, or setting traps for rabbits raiding the farmer's crops.
Like me, she hates the idea of being tied down to a guild, forced to follow someone else's orders. She usually runs gates solo or with me tagging along as her porter. Sometimes a guild will hire her as a third-party bruiser to take down a tough gate boss, but never for long.
"I can imagine how that went," I say with a grin. "So, how long did it take before you threatened to challenge her to an awakened duel?"
Hinata snorts. "You've got no proof I said that!"
"You're right. I don't. So… how long?"
She exhales dramatically. "Five minutes. I swear, I've told these bitches a hundred times I'm not interested. But they never take me seriously until I offer to beat the message into them."
"Well, we are gate-runners. Violence is our primary problem-solving tool. Everything can be solved with violence!"
"Too true," she replies, finishing her beer with a final gulp and grabbing another from the fridge.
Before sitting down again, she steps behind me and wraps her arms around my waist, resting her cheek gently against my upper back. When she feels like it, she can be surprisingly affectionate.
"So… what did you want to talk about?" she murmurs.
Her holding me like this isn't unusual. We're best friends, yes, but it's more than that. I wouldn't go so far as to say we're dating, but we've crossed more than a few lines. Whatever label you'd give it, we've long since stepped into the realm of intimacy.
I place my hands over hers and lightly rub my thumb along the back of her hand. The playful tone fades as I speak.
"Yesterday… I died in a gate," I say quietly. "And then I reawakened."