All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

The candles were lit, their small flames dancing gently in the dim room. Kotomi drew the curtains and turned off the lights, plunging the bedroom into a cozy glow illuminated only by the soft light of the birthday candles.

”Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you...”

Sitting across from Megumi, Kotomi clapped her hands softly as she sang the birthday song, her voice warm and cheerful. As she sang, a flicker of bittersweet nostalgia crossed her face. How many years had it been since someone last sang her a birthday song?

Memories of her second life flooded back—birthdays spent in solitude. Her lips curved into a faint, melancholic smile, but it was fleeting. Almost immediately, her smile grew brighter, full of warmth and determination.

This time around, she vowed to live a carefree life filled with joy and companionship. No more loneliness. And maybe, just maybe, when her birthday came, someone would sing for her too.

With this thought, Kotomi clapped even more enthusiastically as she finished the song.

The honor of making a wish and blowing out the candles naturally belonged to Megumi.

With her hands clasped and her eyes gently shut, Megumi looked serene, deep in thought as she silently made her wish. After a few moments, she opened her eyes, leaned forward, and gently blew out the candles, extinguishing the flames in one soft breath.

”Happy birthday, Megumi!” Kotomi exclaimed, switching the lights back on and clapping with genuine excitement.

Megumi tilted her head to look at Kotomi, her eyes brimming with affection. She reached out, pulling Kotomi into a warm embrace. Stroking Kotomi’s silken white hair, she leaned in close and whispered,

”Kotomi, when your birthday comes, I’ll sing for you too.”

The tenderness in Megumi’s arms brought a rush of warmth to Kotomi’s heart. Nestled against Megumi, she nodded softly.

”My birthday isn’t until next year, though,” she murmured.

”No matter if it’s next year, three years from now, or ten years later—or even decades—I’ll always remember your birthday, just like you remembered mine.” Megumi’s voice was a gentle promise.

As she finished speaking, she mischievously blew a soft puff of air against Kotomi’s ear, sending a flush of red across her cheeks.

”L-Let’s eat the cake already!” Kotomi stammered, flustered, and quickly changed the subject.

Seeing Kotomi’s embarrassed expression, Megumi decided not to tease her further—too much shyness might not end well. She released Kotomi and watched her hurry to the low table where the cake was set.

Using the plastic knife provided by the bakery, Kotomi carefully sliced the cake, making sure to give Megumi the slice with the most fruit.

Halfway through eating, Kotomi noticed something strange. Megumi was eating her cake, but her movements seemed strained, almost forced. It reminded Kotomi of the time she’d seen Megumi struggle to eat boiled eggs. That had been before Kotomi learned Megumi didn’t like eggs.

Concerned, Kotomi spoke up. ”Megumi, I know you don’t like eggs, but... do you not like cake either?”

As she spoke, Kotomi’s thoughts raced. She’d been in such a rush earlier that she hadn’t thought to ask about Megumi’s preferences.

Megumi blinked, momentarily startled. She quickly waved her hand in denial. ”No, no, it’s not that! I love cake—I really do! Don’t you remember how many times we’ve eaten cake together? I always eat a lot, don’t I?”

Kotomi thought back to those moments. Indeed, Megumi had always seemed fine eating cake before. Today’s hesitation was out of character.

”I don’t think you’re lying, but you seemed a little off while eating. Is something wrong?” Kotomi pressed gently.

Caught off guard by Kotomi’s keen observation, Megumi froze. How does she notice these things so easily?

”You little penguin,” Megumi laughed softly, reaching out to pinch Kotomi’s cheek. ”Why aren’t you eating your own cake and instead watching me like a hawk?”

With her cheek squished, Kotomi’s muffled voice came out distorted: ”So... you... don’t like... cake after all?”

”It’s not that I don’t like cake,” Megumi admitted with a wry smile, pointing at the fruit filling inside the cake—yellow peaches, strawberries, blueberries, mangoes, and kiwis. ”I just don’t like kiwi.”

She explained that eating kiwi always left an uncomfortable sensation around her mouth, so she’d simply grown to avoid it.

Hearing this, Kotomi’s face fell slightly. ”Ugh... If I’d known, I would’ve asked you what you liked beforehand. I had no idea you didn’t like kiwi...”

She glanced at the cake again, noticing just how much kiwi had been packed into the filling. The bakery had been generous, but this time, it was a problem.

”Wow, they really went overboard with the kiwi,” Kotomi muttered, scratching her cheek.

Megumi let out a soft laugh. ”It’s okay. I’ll eat it anyway!”

Even though she didn’t like kiwi, Megumi was determined to finish her slice—it was a gift from Kotomi, after all.

”No, absolutely not!” Kotomi objected, firmly holding Megumi’s fork back. ”I told you before: if you don’t like something, don’t force yourself to eat it. Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

Her tone was serious, carrying a hint of chastisement. It sounded less like a friend scolding and more like a wife fussing over her husband’s bad habits.

”But the cake...” Megumi glanced at the half-eaten dessert. It felt wasteful not to finish it.

”I never expected us to finish it in one sitting anyway. I figured we’d eat half now and save the rest for later. But since you don’t like kiwi, I’ll take the leftover cake home to Aimi,” Kotomi declared matter-of-factly.

She stood up, as if preparing to go fetch an apron and start dinner. If her long white hair had been loose instead of tied up, the sight of her pulling it back into a ponytail while tying on an apron would have made anyone imagine an idyllic married life with Kotomi.

”But I still want cake!” Megumi suddenly grabbed the hem of Kotomi’s shirt, pouting adorably.

Faced with Megumi’s unexpected plea, Kotomi hesitated. She didn’t want Megumi eating something she disliked, but she couldn’t deny her either. After thinking for a moment, Kotomi lightly dipped her finger into the cake’s whipped cream and held it out.

”Fine... Here. Eat this,” she mumbled. ”But don’t bite me, okay? It’ll hurt. Just lick off the cream.”

Before Kotomi could react, Megumi had already leaned forward, taking the whipped cream into her mouth. Normally, whipped cream could be cloyingly sweet after too much. But somehow, eating it off Kotomi’s finger felt endlessly delightful—like she could never tire of it.

An idea—one she’d been planning to save for Kotomi’s birthday—suddenly popped into Megumi’s mind. But why wait?

With a mischievous smile, Megumi scooped Kotomi into a bridal carry, making her yelp in surprise as she was brought back to the bed.

Megumi placed Kotomi down gently, then—

Grabbed the leftover cake.

”W-What are you doing, Megumi?!” Kotomi stammered, her cheeks flushing bright red as Megumi smeared dollops of whipped cream across various parts of her skin.

”Eating cake,” Megumi replied with a devilish grin, leaning in closer.

For the next two hours, Kotomi could only be grateful that they were the only two people at home that night.

Night had fallen, and in the city’s hazy skies, stars were hard to come by. Even on a clear evening, only a few faint points of light could be seen. Among them, two stars seemed tightly intertwined, much like Kotomi and Megumi’s fingers, softly interlaced, their hands resting together under the warmth of a single blanket.

Kotomi lay nestled in Megumi’s arms, her delicate eyelashes trembling slightly as she slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Megumi, who hadn’t fallen asleep at all. Her gaze was fixed intently on Kotomi, unhidden and unwavering, sending a rush of heat to Kotomi’s cheeks and palms.

”W-Why aren’t you asleep yet?” Kotomi mumbled softly, her face flushed.

”I never went to sleep,” Megumi admitted, her voice calm and serene. ”I’ve just been lying here like this, quietly watching you.”

Kotomi wished Megumi could’ve come up with a small lie instead—something like, Oh, I just woke up too. But no, Megumi was brutally honest, making Kotomi’s cheeks burn an even deeper shade of red.

”H-How long were you watching?”

”Since about 30 minutes ago. As soon as you fell asleep from exhaustion, I just stayed here, watching you like this,” Megumi replied with a contented smile, her earlier disappointment entirely replaced by satisfaction.

Of course, that satisfaction came at the cost of Kotomi being ”teased” for nearly two hours.

Kotomi shifted slightly, trying to sit up. While her exhaustion had eased, a dull soreness lingered in her arms and legs. The discomfort was unmistakable, and her face puffed up in mild protest as she lightly swatted Megumi’s arm with no real force.

”You... you’re so mean! You said you’d go easy on me today since it’s your birthday and you didn’t need the ’main course’! Hmph!”

”I didn’t have the ’main course,’ did I?” Megumi replied, her innocent expression making her look like a saint.

”Sure, you didn’t. But why on earth did you go at the ’appetizer’ so hard?! Who uses that much energy eating a simple salad?”

Kotomi’s voice was tinged with grievance, her face full of dissatisfaction as she muttered her complaints.

Strangely, this wasn’t the first time Megumi had made such a promise, only to bend the rules. She always maintained the same pattern: acknowledge her ”mistakes,” offer sincere apologies... and then escalate things the next time.

It was already 8 p.m., and while Kotomi had told her mother she’d be celebrating Megumi’s birthday at her place, she couldn’t stay out too late.

As she moved to put on her clothes, Kotomi became keenly aware of the residual stickiness on her skin, remnants of the cake’s whipped cream. Although Megumi had licked it all off, the lingering feeling of oiliness was familiar—like the aftermath of those childhood cake-smashing games. It was uncomfortable, and Kotomi knew she’d feel gross until she could wash it off.

Squirming slightly, she mumbled, ”The leftover cream feels sticky... I need a shower. Can I borrow your bathroom?”

”Of course, you can. Want me to join you?” Megumi teased with a playful grin.

Kotomi shook her head furiously. If she showered alone, it’d take less than 30 minutes. But if Megumi joined her... there’d be no chance of going home tonight.

Seeing Kotomi’s adamant refusal, Megumi changed her tactic with a sly smile.

”Oh, wait! I just remembered—the showerhead in the bathroom is broken. Guess you can’t use it after all~”

It didn’t take much for Kotomi to see through Megumi’s antics. ”Broken showerhead”? That was pure nonsense.

”Hmph! You’re such a mean-spirited miser!” Kotomi huffed, puffing up her cheeks in indignation.

Megumi simply chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind Kotomi’s ear. ”How could I possibly be stingy? But think about it—if you shower here and go home squeaky clean, don’t you think Aimi might notice? You came here to celebrate a birthday, but you return freshly showered? What do you think she’ll assume?

”I don’t mind, but... do you really think you can handle Aimi’s interrogation?” Megumi’s words hit their mark, sending a chill down Kotomi’s spine.

Thank goodness Megumi had thought this through—otherwise, Kotomi might’ve gone home freshly bathed, walking straight into Aimi’s sharp gaze.

With Aimi’s personality, she’d never let Kotomi off without a thorough explanation.

”You’re right,” Kotomi admitted, nodding. She felt a wave of relief wash over her. While uncomfortable, she could tolerate the stickiness until she got home.

After getting dressed, Megumi asked, ”It’s pretty late already. How about staying for dinner? What do you feel like eating?”

”Something quick, if possible. I don’t want to trouble you.”

”I’ve got frozen chicken nuggets in the fridge, along with cold noodles, some veggies, bacon, and eggs. How about stir-fried noodles and reheated chicken nuggets?”

”That works! Let me make it, though,” Kotomi volunteered enthusiastically. It was Megumi’s birthday, after all—she couldn’t let the birthday girl cook.

”I appreciate the thought, but... considering your current state, do you really think you can stand steadily and hold a pan properly?” Megumi teased gently. ”Leave it to me—it’ll be done in no time. You can come down to the kitchen once you’re ready.”

Her words earned her an indignant glare from Kotomi, whose legs still wobbled slightly with every step. She didn’t need reminding of who had made her this way.

Unbothered, Megumi chuckled to herself and headed downstairs.

After some time, Kotomi finally managed to get dressed and cautiously descended the stairs, her legs trembling slightly with every step. She focused intently, determined not to slip—

But alas, as soon as she reached the bottom, her footing gave way.

”Ahhh—thud!”

She landed on her bottom with a small yelp of pain.

”Kotomi? What happened?”

Hearing the commotion, Megumi hurried out of the kitchen. Her eyes immediately landed on Kotomi, who sat pitifully on the floor, her eyes misty from the sting of her fall.

”I... I fell on my butt...” Kotomi whimpered, standing up gingerly.

Megumi couldn’t help but laugh, but quickly stifled it—this was, after all, her fault. She gently supported Kotomi and guided her to the kitchen.

Despite her earlier complaint, Kotomi perked up the moment she caught a whiff of the stir-fried noodles and chicken nuggets. She practically skipped to the table, all traces of her earlier pain forgotten.

The plate set before her contained a fried egg on top.

”That one’s yours,” Megumi said with a smile. Though she didn’t like eggs, she knew Kotomi did.

”Itadakimasu!” Kotomi declared, her spirits high as she dug in.

When the meal was over, Megumi stared in disbelief at the empty plate in front of Kotomi.

An entire mountain of noodles... gone?

Seeing Megumi’s dazed expression, Kotomi asked curiously, ”What are you thinking about?”

”I’m thinking... I really need to work hard and make more money,” Megumi replied after a pause.

”Huh? Why?”

”Because otherwise, I won’t be able to afford to feed you in the future.”

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