Chapter 270: The Door of Certain Death and a Wager's Coffee
Gazing at the two boys standing before her, Hermione Granger felt a genuine concern that she was losing her mind. She had actually, for a fleeting moment, entertained the thought of going with them to "take a look." This was, by every measure, a complete deviation from her normal, rational behavior.
The situation had spiraled out of a simple, absurd observation. Earlier, when Professor Dumbledore was returning to the castle, he had been spotted by Ron Weasley, who had run outside for reasons still unknown. Ron, who had been wandering in a bit of a daze, snapped to full attention the instant he saw the Headmaster step out of a shimmering, ethereal doorway.
But it wasn't the magical portal that truly captivated Ron's attention; it was the jar of jam Dumbledore held in his hand. A sweet, fruity aroma wafted from it, instantly reordering Ron's priorities. He immediately concocted a theory: behind that glowing door lay a colossal, magical larder, or perhaps even a fantasy world made entirely of delicious food.
Ron had wanted to investigate the moment Dumbledore was out of sight, but the Headmaster had used a flick of his wand to relocate the portal, leaving behind nothing but a solitary, firmly locked door where the shimmering gateway had been.
This act only served to cement Ron's conviction. A massive, secret food warehouse had to be behind it. The very next day, at the start-of-term feast, Dumbledore compounded the mystery by announcing that the corridor containing the door was strictly out of bounds to anyone who did not wish to die a very painful death. Consequently, whispers immediately began to circulate among the students, and the mysterious entrance was christened with a new, ominous nickname: "The Door of Certain Death."
After returning to the dormitory, Ron had eagerly shared his theory with Harry Potter. Harry, ever the adventurer, chose to believe him and expressed a keen interest in seeing it for himself. They reasoned they could just take a quick peek without actually going inside. What harm could that do?
Hermione, however, being a staunch believer in rules and a pragmatist, took Dumbledore's warning at face value. To her, it was a gate to hell or, as the name suggested, certain death. She was vehemently opposed to them going anywhere near it. And yet, against her better judgment, she found their infectious curiosity slowly chipping away at her resolve.
She rubbed her forehead, a sigh of frustration escaping her lips. "Honestly, look at the time... We have Potions class. I won't tell anyone what you two are planning, but you'd better think this through very carefully! After all, that is..."
"The Door of Certain Death!" they chimed in unison.
Seeing the resolute, almost motherly expression on Hermione's face, Harry and Ron exchanged a quick glance, shrugged, and blurted out the dramatic phrase before she could. With a final, exasperated flick of her hand, Hermione turned and walked away, leaving the two boys laughing uncontrollably in her wake.
Of course, this little conspiracy was known only to the three of them. Even Dumbledore was unaware of what the young Gryffindors intended to do, though he would surely find out soon enough. His reason for the stern warning was far simpler than they imagined: he felt that Ren's restaurant and its sublime cuisine were not something just anyone was qualified to experience. He planned to use a meal there as a grand prize, a reward for the most outstanding students at Hogwarts.
At that same moment, after seeing Courage and Lucifer off, Ren stretched lazily, a contented sigh escaping his lips. He began a leisurely walk toward the gym. When he was alone, a simple stroll was an excellent way to clear his head.
The breeze was gentle, and the sun cast a perfect, warm glow over the city. There weren't many pedestrians on the street, but it was lively enough to not feel empty. Moving with the quiet flow of people around him gave him a pleasant sense of belonging. It wasn't a wonderful feeling, nor was it a bad one. It was just... nice.
"Hm? What's this...?"
As Ren passed a bookstore, he paused. It wasn't that he was looking to buy a book, but something on a display shelf had caught his eye—not a light novel, but a magazine.
It was a literary magazine that recommended new books and comics. He paid little mind to the various flashy advertisements plastered across the cover, his attention drawn instead to a single, inconspicuous line of text: "A rising star's latest work. From niche appeal to uniquely charming heights, our newest recommendation: 'Love Metronome'."
After studying the cover for a moment, Ren stepped inside and purchased a copy. If not for that one sentence, he likely would have walked right past.
He still remembered the girl who, on that drunken night, had been ready to give up on her manuscript entirely. Ren flipped through the magazine until he found the excerpt.
It wasn't a large feature, just a small section, but its placement was strategic—right on the page preceding a recommendation for a best-selling romance manga. That kind of positioning was a powerful endorsement.
Ren nodded in satisfaction after reading the review. 'Looks like I'll be able to catch up on her story again soon,'he thought.'But I do wonder how Miss Kasumigaoka Utaha plans to conclude a book like this...'
He continued his walk toward the gym, engrossed in the magazine. He didn't encounter anyone he knew along the way, and the simple act of reading as he walked left him feeling remarkably relaxed.
By the time he arrived, Kirari was already there, draped over a bench in the changing room as if she were boneless. She had run over excitedly earlier, only to discover that Ren had not yet arrived. Her sharp intellect quickly pieced together the situation, and she had immediately retreated to the changing room to wait for him, stationing Sayaka outside as a lookout.
"Eh? So this manga is actually ending... That's a shame..."
"Ren-sama!"
Just as Ren was murmuring to himself, engrossed in the magazine, Sayaka, who had been waiting anxiously, spotted him and immediately ran over. Hearing his name, Ren paused and looked up to see her jogging toward him, already dressed in her gym clothes.
"Eh? Sayaka, why are you here alone?" he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.
Sayaka caught her breath, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Ren-sama, the President instructed me to wait for you here and then notify her of your arrival. She also said... um..."
"What else did she say?"
"She also said that Ren-sama should go find her then, and that she wants to properly teach you how to be a qualified coach..."
A faint smile touched Ren's lips. "I understand. But Sayaka, why don't you go call that idiot Kirari out first? Just tell her I have something urgent to do today and have to leave."
"Eh?!" Sayaka's eyes went wide.
"Just kidding."
Sayaka nodded, her relief evident. When it came to choosing between Ren and Kirari, she found herself leaning toward Ren. While she admired the President with every fiber of her being, she also knew that Kirari was utterly helpless against Ren's teasing. Coupled with his own considerable charm, it made her decision easy.
A few minutes later, Kirari came storming out, her long hair flowing freely behind her. When she saw Ren sitting calmly on a chair, watching her with an amused smile, she knew she had been tricked.
Kirari let out a theatrical sigh, her gaze falling on her subordinate. "Sayaka... you really do enjoy helping Ren, don't you?"
"I'm sorry, President, I..."
Kirari waved a dismissive hand. "I understand. But Ren... no... White Butler-san," she purred, her tone shifting. "Don't you think you've been a bit negligent as a coach?"
"Negligent? In that case, I'd better resign."
"Hmph! Don't even think about it! As compensation, you'll be drinking coffee with me today."
Ren paused.
Kirari's smile widened. "Last night, Shion and I played a game. The wager was a cup of coffee. And, as you might expect, I won again."
"Just one cup? And you want me to drink it with you?"
"White Butler-san," she said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. "You wouldn't dare say you'd look down on your future woman, would you? Don't worry," she added, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "I specifically asked Shion to prepare a straw."
"...What kind of coffee?"
"Iced Americano. Without sugar, you know," she said with a soft giggle. "That way, we can drink it very, very slowly. Hee hee."
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