The Burden of Beauty (3)
The clear chime of the bell rang as I pushed open the cafe door, and a sweet, buttery aroma of fresh bread immediately tickled my nose. When stressed, the natural response is to load up on sugar. Without a second glance behind me, I strode straight to the counter.
"What can I get for you?"
"Hmm... this one, and this one... Ah, and the cookies over there too, please."
The moment I stood in front of the showcase, my eyes transformed into those of a hawk zeroing in on prey. The same dynamic vision I used to analyze monster weaknesses was now scanning cake cross-sections for the most delicious-looking slices. A strawberry shortcake with ruby-red strawberries nestled like jewels between fluffy layers. A massive chocolate-chip cookie that looked crispy even from a distance. And a plain salt bread to cleanse the palate after all that sweetness.
"Ah, and for the drink... an iced Americano..." I paused. No. On a day like today, after everything I'd been through, I wasn't about to let bitter water touch my stomach. "Actually, make it a strawberry shake. Extra whipped cream, please."
"Of course. That'll be right up."
Payment complete, I stared at the receipt in my hand. The total was easily two or three times what an average office worker would spend on lunch. Maybe I went a little overboard... But I shook my head immediately. After rolling around on the battlefield until my whole body ached and suffering that humiliating electronic billboard attack, I deserved at least this small luxury for both body and mind. Besides, the cafe owners who had invested in such upscale interiors and prime locations needed to make a living too. If I, who earned well, spent generously, the economy would keep turning. This was noblesse oblige... or rather, a healer's financial therapy. Let's go with that.
A moment later, the buzzer vibrated. The tray I received was nothing short of a mountain of desserts.
"Here are your items."
As I turned with the tray, I felt the subtle gazes from nearby tables locking onto me. It made sense— a young woman with a slender waist and a perfectly toned figure was carrying far more food than one person could reasonably eat alone. In the past, people might have whispered, "Is she really going to eat all that? Did she decide to get fat on purpose?" But what era was this? An age of the Great Awakening, where monsters appeared and superhumans who hunted them walked the streets. So people's thoughts should have shifted to something like: Someone that delicate is consuming that many calories? Then... an awakened?
Yes. Exactly. When you combined this body—honed through perfect self-management—with those massive calorie bombs, there was only one conclusion: The leisure of a capable awakened.
Enjoying the attention, I suppressed the urge to hum and headed for the stairs leading to the second floor. Click, click. With every step, the cheerful sound of my high heels echoed in my ears. The tray was quite heavy, but the thought of tasting the sweet treats on it made my steps feel light as feathers. The way my hips swayed a little more than usual—almost like a fox beastkin—was probably not just my imagination.
Time to go eat my fill.
I carefully set the heavy tray down at the prime window seat overlooking the bustling cityscape. Pulling out a chair, I sat and felt full just looking at the desserts spread before me. Calming my excited heart, I picked up a silver fork and elegantly reached for the pristine surface of the strawberry shortcake first.
But just before the fork touched the soft cream, my hand froze in midair.
"Oh, right... this comes first."
I'd almost made a terrible mistake. Setting the fork down, I pulled out my latest-model smartphone. Immortalizing the most beautiful state of the desserts before eating them was basic etiquette toward sweets—and the duty of any civilized person living in modern society, wasn't it?
I angled the phone this way and that, finding the perfect balance between lighting and natural light. Click. The cakes, cookies, and strawberry shake on the screen looked even more appetizing and luxurious than in reality. Lighting really did wonders for photos.
"Next... my photo."
Posting only food photos was something amateurs did. The complete picture required me—the perfect woman enjoying these extravagant desserts—inside the frame. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear to reveal my slender neckline, tilted my chin at a fifteen-degree angle, and gazed at the lens with the most composed and elegant expression I could muster, using the busy cityscape outside as a backdrop. Click.
Checking the screen, my radiant beauty stood out even more against the gray forest of buildings. The guys on the team would definitely call this cringeworthy if they saw it, but so what? I was the one covered in blood on the field, and I was also the one posing prettily like this. Honestly, showing off like this for others was a pretty effective stress reliever. People might call it a performative life, but I disagreed. This is just sharing my precious memories with others~ Of course it was! Good things were meant to be shared, after all!
I selected the best shots and uploaded them to SNS, making sure to check one crucial setting. [Comments Disabled]
The moment I hit upload, heart notifications popped up like popcorn at the bottom of the screen. Comments are obviously banned. Just look and move on. I'd once left comments open and had my mood ruined by anonymous people rating my appearance. It had taken everything not to track those bastards down and smash their jaws with a rifle butt. Bringing out my inner Big Mama is plenty on the actual battlefield. No need to show that bloodthirsty side during an elegant tea time.
With the comment section gone and the screen clean, I happily watched the heart count skyrocket while taking a bite of cake. The moment the fluffy bread and cream hit my tongue, an almost electric sweetness spread from the tip. "Mmm~"
With my mouth full of sugar's blessing and a flood of strangers' attention pouring in real time, the fatigue from the entire day seemed to melt away. Scooping up a generous portion of the soft cake layer, I followed it with a crisp, nutty bite of cookie for textural contrast. When my throat started to feel a little dry, I took a long sip of the cold strawberry shake through the straw. "Mmm~ Perfect."
The sweet-and-tart triple harmony unfolding in my mouth—that was the true blessing of regular dessert consumption. Chew, chew. While savoring the happiness in my mouth, my eyes naturally drifted to the smartphone on the table. I was scrolling through my SNS timeline out of habit, wondering what my acquaintances were up to and if there were any good restaurants, when—
Huh?
Among my familiar friends' IDs, an unfamiliar profile picture floated at the top of my friend request queue. Who is this person? I tilted my head. I made sure even my team members couldn't snoop around my account... Someone had the audacity to send me a friend request. Curiosity piqued, I clicked the profile picture with the straw still in my mouth.
The enlarged photo showed a girl with a cute, dog-like face and an innocent, gentle impression, smiling and making a V-sign. Heh... Looks pass, at least. I nodded instinctively. It was exactly the kind of adorable face that matched my preference for pretty things. But even in a world overflowing with awakened and superhumans walking the streets, this was still the cyber world where people would rob you blind if you weren't careful. For such a cute girl to plaster her personal information all over her profile like that—her security awareness was seriously lacking.
Clicking my tongue, I scrolled down to check her details.
[Name: Kang Mirae]
[Awakened: Yes / Rank: E]
...Fail.
My eyes narrowed instantly. Of course I loved my fellow awakened. They were comrades fighting monsters alongside me. But the moment I saw the E-rank label, an alarm went off in my head—it was an inevitable product of experience. E-class awakened. Their physical abilities were only slightly better than ordinary people, making them rather ambiguous. Because of that, quite a few of them strutted around with inflated egos in front of civilians or engaged in delinquent behavior, relying on their half-baked strength. Her face doesn't look like the type to do that, but if she is, I'm not interested. For the sake of my image management, I couldn't afford unverified individuals. I moved my finger to reject the request without hesitation. Sorry, but our connection ends here... Huh?
My finger stopped. The text under the rank—her affiliation—had caught my eye.
[Affiliation: Hunter Association Mobile Rescue Team 4]
"..."
What? Was I seeing things? I rubbed my eyes and looked again, but the text hadn't changed. Mobile Rescue Team 4. That was the very team where my kids were running around. Really? Seriously? A woman whose address, last night's dinner, and even panty color I don't know exists in that team?
There was no Kang Mirae in my memory. Was it a fake account? Or was Thetys cross-dressing and messing around? All sorts of thoughts raced through my mind until one memory surfaced. A few days ago, after finishing a report, a superior had patted my shoulder and casually mentioned, "You said you were struggling because the team didn't have a dedicated medic, right? I'll send someone over soon, so keep that in mind."
Ah. So this was it? I thought they'd just pull a career medic from another team... I never expected them to stick me with an E-class rookie who still had eggshell on their head.
"Heh..."
Our Hunter Association really did work fast—when it came to making people flustered, that is. I took another long sip of strawberry shake and tilted my head, staring at the brightly smiling E-class medic, Kang Mirae, on the screen. Can this girl even survive in our team...?
Just then, a passing staff member tripped. Her body tilted forward in slow motion, the two hot Americanos on her tray dancing precariously. Wait a second? If those spill—My cake!
My mind filled with nothing but the need to prevent that pitch-black muddy water from ruining my pure strawberry shortcake. My body moved before I could think. Reflexes honed through thousands of battles activated instinctively.
Thud!
There was a dull impact, but thankfully no screams. The air in the cafe seemed to freeze for a moment, falling completely silent.
"A-are you okay?!"
I asked urgently, looking down at the staff member now hanging from my arms—well, my embrace. Fortunately, not a single drop of hot coffee had spilled, and she didn't appear injured. "Y-yes...?"
The staff member stared up at me with wide, startled rabbit eyes. Whew, thank goodness. It was a relief that no one was hurt, but more importantly— I quickly turned to check the table. My precious strawberry shortcake, the crispy cookies, and the shimmering shake. All safe, not a single crumb damaged. Perfect. Defense successful.
Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, something felt off. Huh... why am I floating? The desserts that should have been at eye level were now below my waist. Slowly lowering my gaze, I saw my right hand wrapped around the staff member's waist, while my left hand was—
"..."
Effortlessly lifting a thick glass table—at least five centimeters thick—with one hand, as if it weighed no more than a feather. Shit.
My brain cells belatedly grasped the situation and screamed. Looking around, every customer in the cafe was staring at me, some with mouths agape and forks slipping from their fingers. The bizarre sight of a delicate, fragile-looking beauty holding a woman in one arm and a table in the other. I quickly lowered the table back down. Thud. The sound echoed across the cafe floor.
"Haha... hahaha..."
An awkward laugh escaped my lips. I had to salvage this. Somehow explain the situation within the bounds of what a normal person could do. "Th-the table must be made of something really light, huh? These days... carbon fiber or something? I guess they make them out of that now? Hehe..."
Even I knew it was a ridiculous excuse, and so did the listeners. A table that thick being carbon fiber? Even a passing monster would laugh. But the staff member in my arms didn't seem to care about the table's material. Her face flushed red like a ripe apple, and she simply stared at me in silence, her eyes sparkling as if she were looking at a prince on a white horse who had appeared in her moment of crisis. No... don't look at me with those eyes... I wasn't some pure, helpless damsel who triggered protective instincts!