Temptation
Lee Si-a bit down on her lip and waited for Han Mir's answer. He was watching her with a look that seemed to mean something, and under that gaze her face went hot and her heart started slamming against her ribs for no reason she could name.
She was the kind of woman who could send a lingering glance, flush on command, and laugh like it was the most natural thing in the world. Honey-trap training had made those little performances as ordinary as breathing. Standing in front of Han Mir, though, she was tense in a way that made no sense at all.
"So why the sudden ramen invitation?"
"W-well, you did save my life this time, and e-eating alone is just... lonely, you know?"
The corner of Han Mir's mouth twitched. He seemed to weigh something for a moment, then spoke.
"Where do you even live?"
"Huh? Oh — right, you wouldn't know. I just moved in next door."
The Management Bureau had dumped a fortune on the landlord and all but seized the house so they could plant her there to watch him.
She swayed a little, her voice going shy.
"S-so... are you coming over for ramen or not?"
"Sure. It's been ages since anyone cooked ramen for me. This works out. Lead the way."
The ease of his agreement broke a wide smile across Lee Si-a's face. She opened the door wearing the bright, unguarded grin of a puppy who'd just been told it was time for a walk.
Stage One — getting him inside the house — had gone off without a hitch.
Just as J had said, Han Mir was still a teenage boy at the end of the day, blood running hot. If she could break him in properly this time, the rest of the job might get a lot easier. And yet somewhere in a corner of her heart, something sat wrong — a foreign, uncomfortable weight she couldn't name.
She had to do it anyway. For the peace of the world.
Han Mir stepped into Lee Si-a's house and actually stopped. The place was so aggressively spotless that not a single mote of dust dared show itself. Even the floor and the walls threw his face back at him like mirrors.
She sat him at the table and started cooking. He watched her work with a face of complete unconcern.
"You, the one who just tried fried chicken for the first time, boiling ramen. Wonders never cease."
"Huh? Hehe. I know how to make ramen, okay? Don't tell me you think I'm some kind of clueless idiot."
Even as she said it, she was dumping things into the pot with alarming enthusiasm. A bad feeling prickled at Han Mir, but free ramen cooked by someone else was a luxury he hadn't tasted in a long time. He decided to wait it out.
He propped his chin on one hand.
"So. You cleaned up the school situation?"
"Yeah. Thanks to you, we wrapped it up without any major casualties. No fatalities. A few students were injured, but the Bureau's tech patched them up good as new. And nobody's going to remember what happened at the school. We wiped everyone's memories and put them under hypnosis."
"Huh. Thorough."
"Okay, it's done!"
The pot she shoved in front of him was bubbling merrily. Han Mir studied the contents, then looked at her.
"...What is this."
"Huh? What do you mean, what is it? It's ramen! I did a pretty good job, right?"
Han Mir flicked a glance toward the kitchen. The empty packet on the counter was unmistakably a spicy red-broth ramen. What sat in the pot, however, glowed a murky orange-red and gave off a stale, faintly unpleasant smell.
And then there were the toppings. Beef, seaweed, egg, rice cakes, glass noodles, spinach, broccoli, apple, pear, pineapple, tomato, cabbage, eel, chicken, arrowroot, cheese — and a crowd of other things he couldn't even identify, all of it packed in until the pot could barely hold itself together. The water had risen so high it was a breath away from spilling over the rim.
This was no longer ramen. This was a junk stew that had lost the will to live.
"...You've never made ramen before, have you."
"W-what!? That's not true! I-I've made it tons of times~! Real ramen is supposed to taste better when you throw in whatever you've got left in the fridge!"
"Have you actually eaten this?"
"...U-uh? W-well, no? But it's going to be delicious, I swear! I only picked ingredients that are good for you and taste great!"
She was trying to sound calm, but even she had noticed something had gone wrong in the making. She'd gotten the intel that more toppings meant better flavor and followed it to the letter — and somehow the smell was wrong, the noodles were bloated past saving, and the whole thing looked too hideous to put in a mouth.
Admitting it was inedible would kill the mood, though. So she held the line and pushed the pot toward him.
"C-come on, try it! I made this restorative ramen just for you!"
"Hm."
Han Mir's brow furrowed slightly as he stirred the pot with his chopsticks. The overcooked noodles snapped at the lightest touch, and she'd put in so much cheese the broth had gone viscous.
"Well. You cooked it, so I'll eat it."
Lee Si-a clutched her nerves and watched him ladle some onto a small plate. She felt like a contestant on a cooking show, waiting for the judges to speak.
He slurped. A swollen clump of noodles disappeared into his mouth. He chewed a few times and swallowed, then took a sip of the sticky broth.
Lee Si-a's lips had gone dry. She swallowed hard.
Is it bad? It looks genuinely terrible. What if this wrecks the whole atmosphere?
She waited, heart in her throat, for the verdict. At last, having tasted her first ramen, Han Mir opened his mouth.
"Mm. Not bad. If you ignore the part where my head's spinning and my blood vessels feel like they're about to clog and explode, it's edible."
Despite herself, the corners of her mouth lifted.
"Hehe! Right? I told you it was pretty good~"
Then Lee Si-a scooped up a bite of her own and put it in her mouth.
Her vision whited out.
The broth was so thick and foul it nearly made her gag, and the noodles that had soaked it up felt like they were going to melt her tongue right off. Her head swam. Salty, bitter, sweet, and fishy — a horror of a dish.
She set her spoon down quietly, watching Han Mir eat like nothing was wrong. He was tearing through the pot as if a starving ghost had possessed him.
Is he forcing it down so I won't be embarrassed? Does that idiot even have that kind of delicacy?
A feeling she couldn't name washed over her as she watched him demolish the ramen.
The truth was, to Han Mir, Lee Si-a's ramen was genuinely edible. After five years in the Other World — where hygiene had been a rumor and he'd eaten soup with cockroaches floating in it and dishes made from ingredients crawling with every kind of insect — his tongue simply refused to register her junk-stew ramen as bad, no matter how much it might have wanted to.
He lifted the pot itself, tipped every last drop of broth into his mouth, and set it down with a bang.
"Hahh—! That hit the spot. How come you barely ate any?"
"U-uh? Oh, I've been dieting lately."
"Dieting?"
Han Mir ran a bored eye over her body, then smiled like he was teasing her.
"Yeah, you could probably use one."
"What did you just say!? I take excellent care of this body! I-if you don't believe me, want me to show you?"
Her face flushed as she undid a button or two. If he took the bait here, Stage Two — the bedroom — would be as good as finished.
"Uh, I'm good, actually. Anyway, ramen's gone, so I'm heading home."
Against every expectation, Han Mir stood up in one motion. Lee Si-a panicked and grabbed his arm.
"W-wait! You're just leaving?"
"How else would I leave? Oh."
Something seemed to click. He grinned and leaned in to whisper against her ear.
"I know what you want."
Hearing that, Lee Si-a thought, Here it comes. She clenched a fist, just a little, and nodded.
"O-okay then. Let's just get it over with."
"Sure. I can do that much."
Han Mir gathered the dishes from the table, carried them to the sink, and started washing them. It was so far from the bedroom scenario she'd pictured that she could only stare, dumbfounded.
"W-what are you doing right now?"
"Dishes. You go wash up."
Ah. Right. She needed to shower first. Hadn't Han Mir just finished showering at home? It was only common courtesy that she clean up too. She nodded slowly and went into the bathroom.
Warm water poured from the showerhead in a steady rush. Lee Si-a stood there, soaking her hair, her mind drifting.
Was this Han Mir's first time?
It was hers. The unknown was right in front of her, and she was about to step into it. She'd always heard it was supposed to be a joyful thing you shared with someone you loved. For an agent who had to strip every feeling out of the equation, it was nothing more than a tool for peace.
Still. She'd learned the techniques in honey-trap training. All she had to do was follow the script.
So it was fine. If she could just cook Han Mir until he was hers, the mission would be complete.
She clenched her fist tight and laid a hand over her chest.
It felt suffocating. Like a lead weight the size of a fist had settled behind her ribs. Imagining what was about to happen made her breath catch, made her heart sting as if someone were driving a needle into it.
What is this feeling? It's just mixing bodies. It's nothing. So why can't I sit still? Why does everything feel so heavy?
She'd been ready for this for a long time. Even if it wasn't today, the mission would have demanded this of her eventually — her body, given to someone, someday.
So get used to it. Kill the heart. Think only of the mission.
That was how you survived as an agent of the Management Bureau.
It's fine.
There's no problem.
Slap!
She struck both her own cheeks with her palms and steeled herself.
She put on a robe that hinted at the shape of her body, made sure everything was ready, and stepped out.
"Huh? Han Mir?"
He was nowhere. Only the neatly washed dishes, still dripping.
"Hey. Done washing up?"
She shrieked.
Han Mir's face popped out of nowhere, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. His shadow fell across her. He grinned.