All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

Ruriya Hojo seemed quite pleased with the way Kotomi Izumi was staring at her in awe. She let out a soft, satisfied laugh, then, as if dancing across a stage, twirled gracefully with light, airy steps, her movements accompanied by the faint fragrance of her perfume.

After fully showing off her outfit from every angle, Ruriya Hojo smiled sweetly and asked, ”Kotomi, does the maid outfit suit me? It’s actually... my first time wearing one.”

”It’s... absolutely perfect,” Kotomi couldn’t help but sigh in admiration. For a moment, she felt she no longer wanted to visit any other booths at the cultural festival. For the next few days, she just wanted to stay right here in the maid café.

”Hehe, I don’t know why, but when you say my maid outfit looks perfect, Kotomi, it feels like the greatest compliment in the world! I almost regret not recording your words earlier. I want to save that praise and listen to it whenever I’m feeling down.”

”That’s a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it?”

”It’s not!” Ruriya Hojo declared firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Not far away, Akira Hiyama from Class 1-C was taking orders while subtly eavesdropping on their conversation.

Akira Hiyama was a member of the Sobu High Cheerleading Club. When she found out that Ruriya Hojo had been a cheer captain back in middle school, they naturally had plenty to talk about. Over time, those shared topics turned into a genuine friendship.

She was also one of the first students to suggest opening a maid café for the cultural festival. Back when Akira and her like-minded classmates decided to do it, the first person she reached out to was Ruriya Hojo.

At first, Ruriya turned her down. Akira was a little disappointed but soon threw herself into recruiting other girls from Class 1-C to join the café as maids. Thanks to her good relationships in class, she quickly found eight girls willing to participate. According to the plan, she wanted nine maids in total—but despite all her efforts, no one came forward for the ninth spot. This situation continued right up until the night before the festival.

Just as Akira was about to give up and change the plan to eight maids, her phone rang. It was Ruriya.

The first thing Ruriya said after the call connected was straightforward: ”Akira, are you still looking for maids? If it’s not too late, can I join?”

Akira froze for a moment, then almost screamed with joy. ”Of course we are! You’re saving the café, Ruriya! The last maid position’s been open forever—I was about to give up! You calling right now is like divine intervention! Honestly, if this were a video call, I’d probably bow down to you right now!”

That morning, while changing into their maid outfits in the dressing room, Akira had quietly asked Ruriya why she refused at first but suddenly decided to join.

She had thought maybe it was because her persistence had finally paid off.

But Ruriya’s answer had been simple: ”When Kotomi found out Class 1-C was doing a maid café, she looked really interested. I figured she’d come visit during the festival. So, I wanted to seize this chance—to let her see what I look like in a maid outfit.”

Akira had felt a little dejected after hearing that. She had believed it was her own persistence that convinced Ruriya, but it turned out the real reason was much simpler: Ruriya wanted to impress the girl she liked.

To Akira, it wasn’t strange that Ruriya liked Kotomi. In fact, it wasn’t just her—half of the girls in Class 1-C had given Kotomi love letters before. For some reason, though, Kotomi never seemed to respond to any of them, as if she hadn’t received them at all.

Kotomi’s indifference had left many girls heartbroken—those who had gathered all their courage to confess to her only to be met with her calm smile and gentle rejection. But instead of growing resentful, their admiration only deepened. The more Kotomi ignored them, the more they fell for her mysterious, aloof charm.

In the Cheerleading Club, the situation was even worse. Akira Hiyama sometimes wondered if she was the only straight girl left in the entire club.

Aside from her, the Sobu High Cheerleading Club had twenty-six girls in total. Every single one of them had, at some point, written a love letter to Kotomi. Nineteen of them had even confessed in person—each one met with that same soft, polite rejection.

If Kotomi ever found out, she would be utterly confused. She had never received a single love letter in her life.

Every time she left the classroom to buy a drink or a snack, some blushing girl would sneak into Class 1-F, quietly place a love letter on Kotomi’s desk, and scurry away in embarrassment. Yet whenever Kotomi returned, she would find nothing there.

What she didn’t notice was that the trash bin in the corner of the room was always overflowing with shredded paper. And sitting at her desk nearby, Megumi Kato would be stretching her fingers as if she had just torn up several sheets.

Back to the present—when Akira Hiyama learned that the proud little beauty Ruriya Hojo liked Kotomi and wanted to impress her, she confidently promised, ”Leave it to me. I’ll make sure you’re the cutest maid Kotomi’s ever seen.”

Now, seeing Ruriya and Kotomi together, Akira nodded in satisfaction. Judging by the atmosphere alone, she was tempted to pop open a bottle of champagne to celebrate early.

”Senpai Hiyama,” a voice called softly. Akira turned and saw Usa Saion approaching, her tone low and casual.

”What’s up, Usa?” Akira asked.

Usa Saion was perhaps the most intimidating girl in Class 1-C—rebellious, confident, and fiercely competitive. Her maroon-dyed hair and defiant aura made her stand out, but her grades backed it up. Despite constantly sleeping in class and ignoring teachers’ scoldings, she consistently ranked first in class and among the top fifteen in the entire year. Her brilliance silenced any criticism.

When Akira first invited her to join the maid café, Usa had hesitated briefly before agreeing. Akira had been genuinely surprised and touched, thinking that maybe Usa wasn’t as cold as she seemed—a tough exterior hiding a warm heart.

”Sorry to bother you while you’re working,” Usa began lazily, ”but can you explain what’s going on with Ruriya over there? That short-haired white-haired girl—she’s the one everyone in school talks about, right? The so-called world-class playgirl who toys with girls’ hearts for fun—Kotomi Izumi?”

Akira blinked, taken aback. ”Wow, it’s only been a few days since I last heard that rumor, and it’s already evolved again? Wasn’t she still just an ’epic-level playgirl’ two days ago? How did she level up to ’world-class’ so fast?”

”Maybe I misheard,” Usa muttered. ”Anyway, tell Ruriya to stop playing that ridiculous love-acting game. Watching her pretend to like girls like that is honestly painful.”

”Huh?” Akira looked at her in confusion. ”Usa, what are you talking about? You really can’t tell? Ruriya’s feelings are real. I was the first to invite her to join the café, but she turned me down. The reason she changed her mind was because she found out Kotomi was interested in our maid café. She joined because she wanted Kotomi to see her dressed like that.”

Usa froze, her expression blank for a few seconds before she turned to look at Ruriya and Kotomi again, disbelief clouding her eyes. Her voice dropped, almost uncertain. ”Wait... so you’re saying Ruriya isn’t pretending?”

She had thought Ruriya was just acting, putting on a show of being into girls for the sake of the café’s atmosphere. But now, realizing it was genuine, Usa found herself momentarily speechless.

The smile on Usa Saion’s face gradually vanished, replaced by an expression of disgust and rejection—as if she were looking at something filthy or deformed. Her eyes carried the kind of revulsion one might reserve for a pile of garbage as she glanced at Kotomi Izumi and Ruriya Hojo. Covering her mouth with her hand, she looked like she was about to throw up.

”How could anyone fall in love with someone of the same gender? That’s disgusting. I can’t stand it,” she said coldly.

Then she shoved the tray in her hands toward Akira Hiyama, muttering a terse apology. ”Sorry, I need a break. After seeing something that nauseating, even the air feels rotten.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode out of the café.

Akira stared after her, conflicted. She was just thankful that Usa had kept her voice low enough so neither Kotomi nor Ruriya had heard her.

...

”I’ll have a glass of iced orange juice and a caramel mandarin pudding,” Kotomi said, setting down her menu.

”Would you like to try the omurice too? My treat,” Ruriya asked while jotting down the order.

”Omurice?” Kotomi looked at the menu again. The omurice served by Class 1-C and the Cheerleading Club was the runny kind—the famous lava-style dish. After being placed on the table, a knife would slice through the thick omelet, and the soft, molten yolk would flow down over the rice like golden lava before being topped with rich, savory sauce.

That kind of omurice had exploded in popularity on YouTube and other video sites, inspiring countless cooking tutorials and restaurant reviews. Kotomi knew how to make it herself—quite well, in fact. She had even thought of cooking it for Yuka one day, certain she would love it.

Originally, Kotomi hadn’t planned to learn it. Every time she saw something delicious, her first instinct was to call out, ”Mom!”

Kotomi loved eggs in all forms—raw, fried, soft-boiled, scrambled. Even with fried eggs, she preferred the yolk to be half-cooked and runny.

So when she first saw lava-style omurice, she couldn’t resist. She grabbed her tablet and ran to her mother, begging her to learn the recipe.

Akina Izumi had tried her best after watching a tutorial, but she never quite got it right. Every attempt either turned into a regular omelet rice or, by accident, fried rice.

Eventually, Kotomi realized that if she wanted to eat it, she’d have to learn to make it herself.

”I really love lava omurice, but I just had a burger, so I’m too full to eat more right now,” Kotomi said, rubbing her small belly with a soft laugh.

Her appetite was good enough to finish two plates easily, but she preferred to enjoy it only when she was truly hungry. Eating it on a full stomach somehow made it less satisfying.

”That’s a shame,” Ruriya said with a playful pout. ”I was going to perform a special ’sweet magic’ spell with ketchup to make your omurice taste even better~”

That ”sweet magic” was a classic maid café tradition—where the maid would use a cute chant and gestures while drawing a heart on the omurice with ketchup. The customer was supposed to follow along, repeating the magic words together.

For socially anxious people, that kind of public interaction was a nightmare. Some might fantasize about visiting a maid café but would never dare to step inside for that very reason.

Kotomi herself used to be a serious shut-in. Back then, her social anxiety was so bad that she sometimes spoke in a way that made others think she didn’t even understand human language. She had eventually recovered, but the memory still lingered.

She still remembered what caused it—a light novel she had read. It was a romantic comedy about a socially awkward shut-in boy being healed by a group of beautiful girls, ending in a cheerful harem finale. It was sweet and relaxing, so much so that Kotomi decided to try ”pretending” to be socially anxious just for fun.

The problem was that her imitation turned into the real thing.

In the end, it took binge-watching three entire seasons of Pretty Cure to ”cure” herself.

”For lava omurice, the best sauce pairing is definitely meat sauce,” Kotomi corrected gently.

”I know~ But I wanted to draw a heart for you with ketchup,” Ruriya murmured shyly.

Kotomi gave her a helpless little smile, then suddenly clutched her stomach dramatically. ”Ah… no! I’m starving! I need a lava omurice with a ketchup heart! Maid Ruriya, please save me~!”

Ruriya froze for a second, then burst out laughing at Kotomi’s sudden playacting. After a few moments of giggles, she straightened up, trying to keep a serious face and nodded resolutely.

”Understood! Kotomi, hang in there! Don’t give up! Whatever you do, don’t close your eyes! I’ll be right back with the omurice to save you!”

Their eyes met for a moment—and both of them laughed again.

”Hah, what even is this? We’re in a maid café, but we sound like characters in a mountain disaster movie.”

”Kotomi, did the drama club ever invite you before?”

”Huh? How did you know?”

”Just a guess. You’re such a natural at acting. If the drama club hasn’t tried recruiting you, they must all be blind.”

”Haha, you’re exaggerating,” Kotomi said with a laugh.

After jotting down the omurice order, Ruriya hurried to the kitchen to hand it over to the cooking team.

The students allowed in the kitchen were all skilled at cooking—they could fry, sauté, bake, and even brew coffee like professionals.

As Ruriya turned to go back and chat with Kotomi again, she was stopped by a group of four unfamiliar girls at one of the tables.

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