For dinner, we eat a simple meal.

It’s egg fried rice with chicken for protein. 

And Miyamura made it— not me.

Thankfully, he didn’t expect me to conform to any stereotype and offer to cook or clean. Because I had no plan to. 

I would rather go hungry. 

I didn’t even know Bastard could cook. I guess his housekeeper was really just for cleaning. And taking pictures of his dirty laundry. 

Heh. 

“What’s so funny?”. He looks up from his plate to ...