The Rooster's Awakening Cry
Sleek Rachel. There was a bit of trouble, but I somehow managed to convince her. As terrible as it sounds, I really have zero interest in you. My type is way more refined and demure—a proper lady. Still, I'd secured the dinner date, so step one was a success. Now the challenge was figuring out how to get her to hear a rooster's crow.
I had a rough plan in mind, but I couldn't shake the anxiety about whether it'd go off without a hitch. Time flew by, and classes wrapped up in no time. Honestly, I might've dozed off through most of them, which made it pass quicker. Even after catching a short nap on the train, the exhaustion lingered.
Anyway, as promised that morning, we headed out alone for dinner.
"······."
An awkward silence hung between us as we walked. Rachel, who usually picked fights at every opportunity just to talk to me, had turned into a mute girl who wouldn't utter a word. Was she still hung up on what I said? She'd denied it so desperately—did she still not get it? At this point, I was tempted to give her a thumbs-up for sheer persistence.
Unable to stand the tension any longer, I broke the ice first.
"Aren't you curious what we're eating?"
"···You said you'd handle everything."
"Still feels too compliant for you."
"Hey. What the hell's that supposed to mean? You saying I'm usually a bitch?"
You know it. Time to reflect on your usual self a bit more objectively.
We soon arrived at a restaurant not far from the Academy.
Rachel muttered the name on the signboard under her breath.
"Parisien?"
"Been here before?"
"Like I could. Looks fuckin' expensive just from the outside."
Call it historical accuracy, maybe. The Britannian Empire might be the world's strongest, but its food is the one glaring flaw. Britannian cuisine has a global reputation for being downright awful. Meanwhile, the neighboring Frank Kingdom is hailed as a culinary powerhouse. That's why most high-end spots in London serve Frankish fare—and the place I'd picked was no exception.
"Let's go in. My treat."
"···You. You're not seriously trying to buy me off with money, right?"
"How many times do I have to say it?"
Rachel squinted and shouted defiantly.
"Only a psycho wouldn't be suspicious! And why keep it secret from the others and come alone!?"
"I told you, I'll treat them separately later."
I couldn't spill the truth here, so dodging like this was my best bet for now. But my hasty excuse seemed to backfire spectacularly. Rachel, who'd been suspicious all along, flashed a sinister smile like she'd finally pieced it together—and branded me trash.
"Ah, got it. You bastard, trying to hook up with all three of us at once?"
"No, that's not it!"
Kuk! So it got found out after all···.
Goddess, please just stay quiet! Before anything weirder slipped out, I shoved her back and dragged her inside.
"Hey! You're really going in···!?"
"Obviously."
The interior was predictably luxurious. A male server spotted us, bowed deeply, and greeted us politely.
"Welcome. Right this way, please."
Rachel fidgeted awkwardly—clearly a first for a place like this. To ease her nerves, I lightly escorted her, guiding her to our seats.
Once seated, the server brought the menu. Rachel scowled at it, then jolted when she saw the prices.
Way too obvious with your reactions, huh?
"What'll you have?"
"Hey···. Let's go somewhere else···."
She whispered urgently, squirming in her seat.
"Just pick something."
"···Ugh. Nerd like you···."
"Or should I order for us?"
I clapped lightly to summon the server. Felt a bit stuffy, but it was standard etiquette back then.
I ordered the restaurant's most popular set—the priciest basic one, naturally.
As the server left, Rachel leaned toward me, grilling me earnestly.
"You're kidding, right!? This ain't just 'buying something tasty' level!"
"Don't overthink it. Just eat and enjoy—no price tags."
"···You rich or something? Messing with me on purpose?"
"If that was the goal, there'd be way easier ways than this."
"······."
I got why she felt so uneasy—maybe this spot legit made her uncomfortable. But it was my only option right now. Finding a rooster out of nowhere in industrial London, choked with iron and smog? Roosters didn't belong in a place like that. I could've forced it, but dragging her somewhere sketchy wasn't feasible.
So this was it. This French bistro-looking spot hid a delightful secret.
"Here are your orders, sir."
The head chef himself emerged to serve his creation, explaining it warmly.
Rachel looked utterly bored, like she couldn't care less. Me? I nodded enthusiastically, chiming in with reactions to show I was all in.
Touched by my vibe, the chef dove deeper into his explanations. Clearly proud of his work.
Once I'd built enough rapport, I flashed a grin and cut to the chase.
"Heard you have an adorable mascot here."
"Ah, Henry, you mean?"
"Yes. Mind if we see him? If it's not too much trouble."
"···Well, sorry, but we can't bring Henry into the dining area."
I persisted politely despite the refusal.
"What if we go out to him? Heard he's in the back garden."
"Hmm···. If you're that eager, follow me."
"Thank you."
I signaled across the table to her. Rachel whispered in my ear, confused.
"Who's this Henry guy?"
"Super cute cat. Tons of charm, looks adorable."
"···Hmph. That's it?"
She grumbled but stood up readily, heading to the garden—though her flushed ears betrayed her.
Cat lover, huh.
Trailing a step behind, I preemptively apologized in my mind. Sorry for the lie. It was for your sake—hope you get it eventually.
True to its upscale rep, the back garden was impeccably landscaped. And there, in an ornate cage: a rooster with splendid tail feathers.
"···Huh?"
Rachel froze solid the instant her eyes met the bird's. I lunged from behind, wrapping her in a bear hug to pin her in place.
She squirmed to break free, but I tightened my grip, holding firm.
Crow! Crow already!
The rooster stared at the intruder, sensing something off—maybe Veronica's lingering magic. As folklore goes, roosters ward off evil with their cries.
It puffed its neck feathers threateningly, then belted out a mighty:
Cock-a-doodle-doo—!
Right then—
"Kuhk!"
Rachel groaned like she'd been struck, going limp. Her legs buckled, and she slumped helplessly into my arms.
"Haha! That crow's a real powerhouse, eh? Straight from Paris—a true treasure!"
Obviously not some holy beast—just your average rooster. France's national symbol and all, so probably for the theme.
Thanks to this guy, the hypnosis was broken clean. I enthusiastically backed the chef's brag.
"Totally. Sounds like a general's command."
"Haha! Gets us noise complaints sometimes—no, every day, really."
Isn't that a problem? Not something to laugh off.
Anyway, priority one: check on Rachel. She wobbled in my arms like she had anemia.
"Rachel. Wanna head inside?"
"······."
Clutching her head and grimacing, she murmured softly.
"My head hurts···."
"Rough day, huh."
"Yeah···."
Her face faintly flushed, she looked up at me with dewy eyes, shyly adding,
"Th-thanks···."
"···Huh?"
Holy crap. Who knew she could look this refined. Dangerous—my heart nearly skipped. But I held it together. My win.
Time to move to phase two.