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Tutoring the Spoiled

Trying to live out an existence is hard. Especially for Kouji Arisawa ever since his parents passed away in an accident. He'll still try his best, and make something of himself. It's too bad that he can't go the the city's premier school, for a couple of reasons. 1. It's an all-girls school. 2. Even if he was a girl, good luck being able to pay for it. There's a reason why only the wealthy send their daughters here. However, things change one day when the headmistress of the academy shows up at his front door. An opportunity under one condition. "To raise the overall grade of the school." Discord: https://discord.gg/yFDKkcb Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=26322975 Cover image created using Picrew.

bigbear51 · 现实
分數不夠
111 Chs

Fastest Way to a Man's Stomach

"Welcome!" She said as he opened the door. A big smile on her face.

Despite seeing the homes of his other well-off acquaintances. Kouji couldn't help but be amazed when he saw the lap of luxury they lived in. Being an apartment for one, it had that clean modern look to it. Hardwood flooring, white walls, hanging lamps. No expenses were spared in the design of this unit.

But the real looker would be the girl standing before him. Her hair done back in a bun, a kitchen apron tacked out with dazzling sparkles, underneath it her shirt and shorts that showed off the best of her assets.

"I am so glad you made it." She rushed him, giving a welcome embrace.

"Heh, I guess people in Russia aren't known for personal space." He commented on her often intimate actions. "And what's that smell?"

The room was filled with an aroma, though maybe saying it made him hungry would be incorrect. More of a scent that turned him off of eating.

"I see that the smell has tickled your nose." She bragged. "It is going to be a delicious homemade lunch for the two of us."

"Homemade?" From how happy she was to claim this was her work. He had some hope that the taste would be better than the smell. "I guess you've probably got a lot of experience in cooking."

"Actually, this is the first time I have cooked a meal for myself." She admitted. A bit of a surprise for him, seeing as he knew she lived alone. Most of what she actually ate were those premade meals, or just going out to get something. Plus, this building even had a service for making lunches.

Anastasia directed him to the dining table, large enough for a lot of guests, if she had any. He was left with some water, then she returned to the kitchen.

"So." He started as he admired the view she had. "What are you making?" Given that this was the first time she supposedly cooked, he was filled with more worry now.

"I am making a Russian dish, called Golubtsy." It was a meal made with cabbages wrapped around meat. Along with sauces to add to the flavor. "The one that I am doing is known as Lenivie Golubtsy." Also known as 'lazy-style', not that he knew what those words meant.

"Interesting." He got up and entered the kitchen. "It's certainly smells… special." If these are supposed to be cabbage rolls, then he wasn't sure what was causing it to smell like this. Whatever she used to make the sauce, the composition was far from well made. That color didn't seem right, even if he had never heard of this dish.

"Well, I made it with love, so I hope it is special to you." She winked, dropping a hint about her intentions. This was her plan all along. Anastasia was told that the fastest way to a man's heart, was to his stomach. Surely if she convinced him of her good cooking, then he'd at least want to stay hanging with her. If only her cooking could be called 'good'. "So are you good at cooking?"

"Not really." She wasn't alone with the lack of skill in the culinary arts. "I can't afford any seasonings, and a lot of recipes call for things that I don't have a need beyond a single meal. So I just have simple things."

He actually explained to her that he had a chance to try out some of Yuma's veggies for a meal himself. As it would turn out, a little oil and some frying time on the stove wasn't half-bad.

"Well, I bet my meal will be better than hers." Anastasia responded his story with jealousy.

"I was the one who cooked it, but sure…" That was an odd response from her to him. It wasn't some type of story he thought had much meaning to it.

The food finished cooking, and she took out each piece then placed them onto a plate. She attempted her best to make it look very presentable, but from the way it almost looked burned. It was giving him a hard time of maintaining his appetite.

"Great! Let's get this to the table and-" She was so cheerful at what she thought was a successful job, but there was something wrong.

"Wait!" She wasn't paying attention to her poor handle placement. The hot pan got tipped over as she walked past it. It was about to spill out onto her, but with his quick reflexes, Kouji pushed her out of the way. Unfortunately, that put him in the danger zone, the scorching sauce splashed onto his arm.

It burned, a lot. In excruciating pain, he rushed over to the sink and blasted cool water to wash off the sauce. It took everything in him not to cry over it.

"Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed. She ran up to him to make sure he was all right. "I'm so sorry, that was my fault."

"It's fine…" He said, breathing deeply from how much this was hurting him. "I was the one who pushed you. So I kind of expected this." Not that it did much to make him feel better. "Just some ice would be nice…" His face winced from how bad this was.

Once his medical situation was taken care of. Mostly. The two of them could finally enjoy some of the lunch she made.

"Your arm is hurting, so I will feed you." She wanted to take advantage of this situation. This sounded so romantic in her mind, surely he couldn't deny her after this… What was this plan for again?

"It's my left arm, so it's not like I can't-" She ignored him, and took a piece of the cabbage roll with some chopsticks.

"Say ahh." She commanded him. This girl was not going to take no for an answer.

"Ahh?" He slowly opened his mouth nervously. Getting fed like this was embarrassing. Not only that, but he still wasn't sure in her culinary skills.

He took a bite of what she made. And boy, did he regret it.

"…" His face grimaced from the truly atrocious flavors in his mouth. Slowly he chewed, and nothing was getting any better for him.

"How is it?" She asked, ignorant of the torture she had put him through. Kouji swallowed it, it was gruesome as it slid down his throat. If it was hard to not cry when he got burned, then it was near impossible not to break down in tears from this. "It must be so good that you are speechless."

"It's…" He coughed from the bad taste left in his mouth. Anastasia was so nice, that he really didn't want to be honest about how terrible this was. Though his stomach was going to answer for him. "Where's your bathroom?"

"It's-" She was already too late to answer. That food was going to come back up again, so to prevent a mess. Kouji ran to her kitchen and let loose his lunch into her sink.

"I'm sorry." He said, trying to get some air back in his lungs. "It's just that I-"

"It's okay…" She said, feeling a bit down that he didn't like what she made. When she tried to take a bite for herself, the second it touched her tongue. She knew why he reacted the way he did. The food was going to be left uneaten now.

"Done…" He said when he was finished. The sink was a complete mess now, filled with the contents of his stomach. He felt so weak now. His legs could barely support his body weight. "I'll clean this up... Don't worry."

"No, no." She came up to him, patting him on the back to try and comfort him. "It is my fault, my food made you feel unwell."

When things were finally cleaned up, Anastasia knew that her attempt to convince him was far from successful.

"Well, that was a trip." He commented, once he got back to his normal self. "I think I'll go home and get some rest." Kouji never thought his only time here would be this painful. Hopefully this wouldn't be the last they saw of each other, it would be a shame to end it like this.

"Right." She said. He left through the door, she said goodbye to him with a fake smile. There was still so much she wanted to say. Anastasia could've told the truth about why she tried cooking him dinner. But if he learned why, she was worried he might consider leaving just to avoid her cooking.

As he closed the door, she turned to how she was really feelings, a downtrodden mood. Without even getting out of the apron, she jumped into her bed, her face stuffed into the pillow.

Operation Anastasia was a complete and utter failure.