I slump on the sofa, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended me. Life? Unfair. Love? Apparently, a death sentence. According to the Lovey-Dovey Couple, I'm head over heels for the idiot girl.
But how the hell would I know? I'm a time warden, not a certified relationship counselor.
"Falling in love," they said. "You'll know when it happens."
Yeah? Well, guess what? I don't! I wouldn't know love even if it whacked me upside the head with a frying pan.
But the questions kept circling. And the only logical choice I had left was to consult the one thing I swore to hate for eternity. The bane of my existence. The lying bastard.
My smartphone.
I sigh, grab the cursed device, and tap on the search bar. Might as well get this over with. But I have to be specific this time. No chances for it to betray me with more NBA stats or Stephen Curry highlights.
Search: How do you know if you're in love or just dying of an unknown illness because a certain idiot girl poisoned you with her idiot aura?
Perfect.
And just like that, the smartphone spits out the most unhinged results ever.
"10 Signs Your Cat is Actually in Love with You"
"Falling in Love or Just Really Hungry? The Debate Continues"
"Doctors Hate Him! Man Confuses Heartburn for Love — The Shocking Truth!"
"Love is Like a Slow Internet Connection — Annoying, Painful, and You'll Definitely Cry."
"5 Surefire Ways to Tell if You're in Love (Unless You're Just Gassy)."
By the hands of time, what am I looking at?!
But then, one peculiar title catches my eye.
"Love is Like the Five Stages of Grief."
Oh great, because comparing romance to mourning is exactly the positivity I needed today. Still, curiosity wins. I click it.
Stage 1: Denial
"You'll refuse to believe you're in love. You'll make every excuse imaginable — claiming it's just admiration, friendship, or maybe you're simply under the weather."
***
My stomach growls. Right, food. I'm starving. And I know exactly where to get a free meal.
Dragging myself up, I knock on Akari's door like the shameless freeloader I am. She opens it with her signature ponytail, apron on, spatula in hand — the holy trinity of impending deliciousness. She's even humming like some protagonist in a rom-com.
And like an absolute idiot, I can't help but stare. She's glowing again. Not literally, but the way the sunlight hits her, it's like she walked straight out of a painting.
Then it hits me.
Shit.
Do I really like this idiot?
No. No way. I'm just...unwell. Probably hungry. Yeah. That's it. I'm definitely not in love. Not even a little.
"What are you staring at, weirdo?" Akari grins.
"Huh? Nothing. Just thinking."
"Thinking about how amazing I am?" she teases.
"Absolutely not."
Denial. 100% Denial.
I'm fine. Definitely fine. Totally not in love. And if I keep saying it, maybe one day I'll believe it.
"Hey," Akari interrupts my internal monologue, waving the spatula dangerously close to my face. "You gonna stand there all day, or are you coming in? I'm making something special."
Special? Oh no.
That word is dangerous.
I gulp and step inside. Whatever she's planning, I'm not ready. And judging by the satisfied grin on her face, she knows it too.
Stage 2: Anger
"Anger manifests when the feelings of denial start to crumble. Instead of accepting your fate, you lash out — often at innocent objects, loved ones, or even unsuspecting pieces of technology."
***
"You better eat it while it's hot, Shiwei," she says, placing down two plates stacked with fluffy rice, golden tamagoyaki, and crispy fish. The smell alone could make a grown man weep.
I'm already seated. No shame. I even wipe a pretend tear from my eye.
"A meal worthy of a time warden," I mutter dramatically, picking up my chopsticks. "Though perhaps it's also my last. Who knows when this cursed fate shall consume me."
"...You're so weird."
And yet, she smiles like I just gave her the biggest compliment of her life. Idiot.
As I eat, I try to ignore the idiot girl in front of me. But it's impossible. She's humming some random tune, bobbing her head like an overjoyed pigeon. And the worst part?
She looks happy.
Like, unreasonably happy.
For someone who willingly allows my shameless freeloading, she should be at least mildly annoyed. But no. She's just sitting there, radiating sunshine, chewing on her rice like it's the best thing in the world. And somehow, I've been staring at her for so long that I forgot I had food.
Shit.
I scowl and shovel rice into my mouth at lightning speed. Faster. Faster! If I just focus on the food, I won't think about anything else. Definitely not about Akari. Or her stupid smile. Or the way her hair catches the morning light.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
"You okay? You look like you're trying to break a world record." Akari laughs, obviously entertained.
"I'm perfectly fine. Better than fine. Fantastic, even!" I declare through a mouthful of rice.
She squints. "You're acting weird."
"You're weird."
"You're weirder."
"You're the weirdest."
"Oh my god, just eat, you idiot!"
And just like that, she wins. Again. The idiot girl always wins.
Once I finish the last bite of what may as well be divine cuisine, I bow dramatically. "Another victorious meal! Truly, the food of the gods."
"Okay, okay," she giggles. "You can stop with the theatrics."
But I don't. Instead, I stomp my way back to my apartment with one mission in mind. Justice.
"You!" I point accusingly at the smartphone, tossing it onto the table. "Lying bastard! Betrayer of my peace! How dare you imply I have feelings for that loose cannon! This is all your fault!"
The phone remains silent. Typical.
"Oh, now you have nothing to say?! You were so eager to pull out Stephen Curry highlights last time! But when it comes to facing judgment, you cower!"
Still no response. This is what defeat tastes like.
"Tch. Unbelievable."
I pick up the phone, finger hovering over the screen. The temptation to launch it into the wall is real. Very real. But... I hesitate.
Because, unfortunately, despite its treachery — the damn thing is useful.
My eye twitches. "Damn it."
Reluctantly, I lower my arm.
"Smartphone, you may live. For now."
But mark my words — the next time it crosses me, there will be no mercy.
Stage 3: Bargaining
"Bargaining is when denial cracks, but you're still desperately clinging to excuses. You'll make deals with yourself, the universe, or even your unfortunate smartphone, hoping that logic will somehow prove you're not in love."
***
Morning comes, and I stand in front of my mirror, fixing the one rebellious strand of hair that refuses to stay down. Silver Fang waits outside, my trusty scooter of questionable reliability. I'm ready to face another shift at Fried Chicken Heaven. But just as I step out, I see her.
Akari. The human hazard magnet herself, pedaling her bicycle with all the grace of a penguin on roller skates.
"Morning, idiot girl!" I call out.
She waves, a bright smile on her face. A smile that's suspiciously radiant for someone who's about five seconds away from disaster.
Wait... Is she heading straight for the fence? Oh sweet sands of time!
My chest tightens. She's about to crash. Again. The last time this happened, she declared the sidewalk was 'conspiring against her.' Classic. My feet move before my brain does. I immediately slowed down the time to catch up to her and in a flash, I'm by her side, yanking her from the brink of her inevitable doom.
"Ack!" Akari flails as I pull her away. The bike, of course, sacrifices itself to the fence. Rest in peace, metal steed.
"Seriously?" I pant, glaring at her. "Have you declared war against fences?"
She pouts. "It came out of nowhere!"
"It's a fence, Akari! It's literally stationary!"
She just grins sheepishly like she didn't almost faceplant into oblivion. My heart's still pounding like I ran a marathon. I let out a long, exaggerated sigh.
Why do I keep doing this? Oh yeah. Because if she dies, there'll be no one left to feed me the best food on Earth.
It's for the food. Only for the food.
Arriving at Fried Chicken Heaven, I'm greeted by the distinct scent of overcooked oil and dreams. My manager, Mr. Mustache — named for the glorious caterpillar residing above his lip — gives me a curious look.
"Shiwei, you look like you wrestled a pack of rabid pigeons."
"Good morning to you too, Mr. Mustache."
He squints. "Rough start?"
"You have no idea."
I slip into the back, throwing on my chicken-themed apron that screams professionalism. As I work the fryer today, I can't help but check the monitoring spell I put on her. Just one peek. And there it is.
Akari.
Of course, she's managing to put herself in danger again. Balancing a towering tray of bowls like she's performing in a circus. One wrong step, and those bowls are about to experience a free fall.
"Oh for the love of—"
I flick my fingers once more. The monitoring spell whirs to life. Through its feed, I manipulate the threads of time. The bowls float mid-air, reversing their descent before placing themselves perfectly back onto the tray. Akari, oblivious, continues walking like nothing happened.
"See? No problem at all!" she hums.
I slump against the fryer. "I'm gonna lose it."
But once again, I feel that odd relief. Like I've saved the universe from collapsing. My heart's thumping like I ran across dimensions. Why? Why do I feel this way?
I must like her.
No! No, no, no! I'm just... ensuring my food supply. Yeah. If she's gone, so are the delicious rice bowls. It's all about survival. Nothing else.
I slap my cheeks. "Get it together, Shiwei. It's for the food. Only for the food."
And with that, I march back to work, completely ignoring the growing warmth in my chest.
Because it's not love. Definitely not love.
Right? Right. Absolutely...
Stage 4: Depression
"Depression. It's the part where reality slaps you in the face like a wet fish, and you're left questioning every decision that led to this moment."
***
Slumping on the sofa, I throw my arms dramatically over my face. My very existence feels like a cruel cosmic joke. Why me, oh great cosmos? Was I a terrible being in my past life? Did I offend a deity?
I peek through my fingers. The ceiling fan spins lazily, mocking me. Even the universe is laughing.
"Curse you, loose cannon," I groan. "Why must you be so... so... Akari?"
My phone, the ever-present vessel of both knowledge and torment, rests on the coffee table. I glare at it. It knows things. It knows too much. Maybe it's the reason I'm in this mess.
"You," I accuse, pointing at the device like it personally betrayed me. "You started this. You made me believe I—" I stop myself. Nope. Not finishing that sentence.
Still, the urge to complain to the all-knowing digital overlord is irresistible. With a defeated grunt, I snatch up my phone and slam my thumb against the search bar.
Search: How to free oneself from the curse of an idiot girl who looks suspiciously cute and cooks like a goddess but is also a walking hazard.
Results:
"5 Ways to Move On from a Crush"
"How to Escape a Toxic Situation (Even if She Makes the Best Gyudon Ever)"
"Therapy Might Be Your Best Bet"
"Useless!" I groan, slamming the phone down. "Where's the 'Summon Cosmic Entity to Undo My Life Choices' button? Huh? HUH?!"
I bury my face in the cushions. Maybe if I stay like this long enough, time will take pity on me and rewind. Or send me straight to the void. Either works.
But then...
Sniff.
Wait.
Sniff sniff.
There it is. The unmistakable, divine aroma of something savory, rich, and undoubtedly made with love. The scent dances through the air, slithering past my wall of despair. It's like a beacon of hope in my otherwise cursed existence.
"Akari," I mumble, because who else would dare tempt my fragile soul with such fragrant sorcery?
I try to fight it. Truly, I do. But my stomach growls like a feral beast. My pride? Non-existent. My dignity? Left the chat.
I stagger to my feet. My body moves on its own, like some possessed vessel answering a culinary siren's call. Before I know it, I'm standing in front of Akari's door, hand hovering over the wood.
"No," I whisper. "Resist. You are a Warden of Time. A being of immeasurable power! You do not grovel for—"
Growl.
Damn you, stomach.
With one final, defeated sigh, I knock. The door creaks open, and there she is — the harbinger of my doom. Akari. Apron-clad, spatula in hand, her hair tied up in that stupidly cute ponytail, glowing suspiciously like always. And behind her, the kitchen radiates golden light, as if the gods themselves are preparing dinner.
"Shiwei? You okay?" she asks, blinking innocently.
No. No, I am not okay. I am a broken man. A prisoner to my own cravings.
"Dinner," I rasp dramatically. "I smelled it. I am but a humble soul in need."
She giggles. "Come on in, you hopeless case."
And just like that, all thoughts of depression vanish, swallowed whole by the promise of food.
The idiot girl wins again...
Stage 5: Acceptance
"The final nail in the coffin. The moment when you stop fighting, throw in the towel, and accept your fate. There's no running, no hiding. You're doomed. Absolutely, undeniably doomed. Not even a Super Saiyan could save you now."
***
After yet another soul-ascending dinner with Akari, the idiot girl, I sluggishly thanked her with the finesse of a shameless gentleman. My belly was full, my spirit shattered, and my dignity? Long gone. Just before I left her apartment, I stole a glance at her.
There she was.
Smiling. Like a complete fool. That dazzling, blindingly radiant grin that made her eyes squint just a little. And that's when it hit me.
Oh no.
My heart betrayed me. It skipped a beat. Not because I choked on rice this time, but because of her.
Shit. It's over.
I stormed back to my apartment like a man defeated. Slumped on the couch, I clutched my head and groaned in agony. The ceiling offered no comfort. The walls mocked me. Even the refrigerator hummed in betrayal. I could already hear the imaginary voice of the cosmos cackling at my downfall.
"HA! You thought you were immune, fool! Love has claimed another victim!"
"No, no, no!" I gripped my hair dramatically. "This can't be happening! I was just hungry! It was about the food!"
The weight of my own idiocy crushed me. My stomach may have been satisfied, but my soul was in shambles. The undeniable truth had sunk its claws into my chest. I liked her. No, I more than liked her. The idiot girl had won.
"FINE! I GIVE UP! YOU WIN!"
I practically shouted to the heavens, dramatically flailing on the couch like a damsel in distress.
"You happy now, universe?! Is this what you wanted?! Me, helpless and pathetic?!"
The silence that followed was deafening. Even the refrigerator had the audacity to sound smug.
I groaned into my hands. My face felt like it was on fire. Embarrassment engulfed me like I was a marshmallow in a bonfire. My brain refused to shut up, replaying her stupid grin over and over.
"Ughhh! I'm done! I'm finished! Someone take me out! I'm not built for this!"
Desperate for an escape, I grabbed my phone. My trembling fingers hovered for a moment before I did what a sane person would do.
Dialing...
"Horace."
There was no greeting. No pleasantries. Just my impending doom spilling from my mouth.
"I think I do like her."
A pause. Then came the sound of Horace choking on what I could only assume was his own laughter.
"HAHAHAHAHA! You're so screwed, man!"
I sighed in defeat. Yeah. I was.
Absolutely, undeniably, 100% screwed...