Netori: I Shall Steal All Of My Enemies' Women For Revenge!

To his surprise, they stopped in front of a modest ramen shop tucked into a quiet corner of the street.

In their hands were cups of hot chocolate which was already empty as they threw it on the bin next to the shop.

He looked at Mari, who shrugged with a smile. "What? Simple places have the best food. Let's eat!"

Haruto laughed, shaking his head. "You're full of surprises, Mari."

The ramen shop was cozy, with the comforting aroma of simmering broth wafting through the air.

The bar-style counter allowed them a front-row seat to the chef's swift and skillful cooking. The menu, handwritten on wooden slats, added to the traditional charm.

Mari dove into her ramen with fervor, slurping noodles and sipping the rich, savory broth with zero hesitation.

Haruto, meanwhile, ate at a slower pace, occasionally stealing glances at her. She ate with such gusto that he couldn't help but grin.

"I never thought you'd like a place like this," he remarked.

Mari paused mid-slurp, raising an eyebrow. "Why not? Sometimes, the best ramen is hiding in the simplest stalls."

"It's not the ramen I meant," Haruto clarified.

"You're... you know, rich. Most girls I know would complain if their first date was in a ramen shop."

Mari burst out laughing, nearly choking on her broth. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and leaned in conspiratorially.

"You've been hanging around the wrong kind of girls, Haruto."

His thoughts flicked briefly to the women in his life. Asuka would undoubtedly wrinkle her nose and drag him somewhere upscale.

Chiyo might have gone along with it, but he could already picture the subtle disappointment on her face.

Akane, on the other hand, would probably light up like a firecracker and happily dig in.

"Oh, come on," Mari continued, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"The rich ones are my parents, not me. Besides," she said, slurping the last of her broth, "I'm a big eater. Eating like this in an expensive restaurant would probably bankrupt you."

Haruto blinked at her, genuinely taken aback. "Really? You don't look like a big eater."

Mari smirked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Want proof?" She raised her hand and called out, "Another bowl of ramen, please!"

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Haruto was dumbfounded, as the server brought her a fresh bowl. She wasted no time, digging in with the same voracity as before.

Bowl after bowl, she devoured them, drawing attention from the other patrons.

By the time Mari set down her eighth empty bowl, the entire shop burst into applause.

Haruto joined in, laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach.

"You're incredible, Mari," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Hoho! Of course, I am!" she declared, puffing out her chest with pride.

"I've seen big eaters online, but never in real life," He admitted, his admiration evident.

"You're like some kind of ramen goddess."

Mari's cheeks turned pink at the unexpected compliment.

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her usual confidence wavering under his gaze.

Despite her initial embarrassment about showing her appetite, his genuine admiration only made her feel closer to him.

Haruto, lost in his thoughts about how effortlessly unique Mari was, nearly jumped when a familiar chime sounded in his head.

[Ding!]

[Mari Hayasawa's Deprivation Matrix has increased!]

[Obsession: 65/100]

[Emotional Bond: 80/100]

He blinked, startled by the notification. Mari's emotional bond score had climbed significantly, and it hadn't even been that difficult.

"You okay?" Mari asked, noticing his momentary distraction.

"Yeah," Haruto said, shaking it off. "Just amazed at how you can eat so much and still look this perfect."

Mari's blush deepened, and she swatted his arm lightly. "You really know how to embarrass a girl."

He chuckled, feeling a warm bloom in his chest.

As they stepped out of the ramen shop, the sky had deepened into hues of twilight.

The streets were bustling with the rhythm of people heading home after a long day's work.

Amid the crowd, Haruto and Mari walked leisurely, their spirits light, their laughter cutting through the gentle hum of the city.

Mari clung to Haruto's arm, her grip tightening ever so slightly as if reluctant for their date to end.

"Oh, by the way, aren't you still working at Mrs. Inoue's store?"

Haruto asked, his gaze drifting to the street lamps flickering to life one by one.

Mari pouted, her lips forming a slight curve of dissatisfaction.

"Not anymore. Mrs. Inoue told me to focus on my studies. Can you believe that? I mean, working there is studying!"

"What do you mean?" Haruto raised a brow.

"Isn't a part-time job just for earning some extra cash? And why do you even need one? You're… well, kind of loaded."

Mari giggled, her eyes sparkling under the warm glow of the streetlights. "You know I've always wanted to get into that art and design university, right?"

"Mrs. Inoue is famous in the fashion world—not just for her luxurious brand designs but for her commercial work too."

"Working at her store was like hands-on training for me. But I guess she thought differently and told me to hit the books instead."

Haruto's eyes widened, genuinely impressed. "Wow, I didn't know you were so serious about fashion. You've really got your future all mapped out."

"Of course! I'm in my third year of high school, after all," Mari said with a proud smile.

Her expression softened as she tilted her head to look at him. "What about you? Don't you have a plan for your future?"

Haruto hesitated. His mind flickered to his past life—the tragic end the next year that had robbed him of any semblance of a future.

Now, his only focus was avenging his sister and securing a happy ending for her. The idea of a future beyond that felt foreign, almost unattainable.

"I don't know yet," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I'm just taking things one step at a time."

Mari stopped walking and turned to face him, her blue eyes searching his. Her cheeks flushed slightly as her voice softened.

"What about… a future with me? Do you ever think about that?"

Haruto smirked, leaning down to pinch her cheek gently. "Of course I do. You're my girlfriend. How could I not think about that?"

Her face lit up, a satisfied smile spreading across her lips.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

She opened her mouth to say something, but their conversation was interrupted by the clanging of bells from a nearby stall.

"Step right up! Try your luck at the lottery! First prize is a luxury onsen trip for two!" the stall owner hollered, shaking a bell with enthusiasm.

Mari's eyes sparkled with excitement as she tugged on Haruto's sleeve. "Let's try it! I'm lucky, you know. I never miss!"

He chuckled, folding his arms. "Oh really? Let's see if that luck of yours is as good as you say."

They approached the stall, and Mari eagerly stepped up. She spun the handle of the lottery wheel with determination.

The colorful wheel clattered as it turned, eventually spitting out a plain white ball.

"Ah, too bad, just a regular ball!" the stall owner said cheerfully, handing her a small plush doll.

Mari pouted but quickly straightened up. "I'm not giving up that easily! Watch this."

She tried again, but another white ball popped out.

"Third time's the charm!" she declared, rolling up her sleeves.

With a flourish, she spun the wheel for the third time. The wheel clattered louder this time, and as it slowed, a glittering golden ball rolled out of the chute.

Mari's mouth fell open, and Haruto's eyes widened in disbelief.

For a moment, they were both frozen in stunned silence until the stall owner's jubilant bell ringing snapped them out of it.

"Congratulations! First prize—a luxury onsen trip for two!" he announced, presenting them with a beautifully wrapped voucher.

Mari let out an excited squeal and threw her arms around Haruto, nearly knocking him off balance as they jumped up and down in unison.

Their laughter rang out, drawing smiles from the passersby who couldn't help but share in their infectious joy.

The date had been wonderful from start to finish, but this grand finale had turned it into a truly unforgettable day.