Icing on the Cake Chapter 1

An uninvited guest came by.

It was just past two in the afternoon. The neighborhood, quiet to begin with, was deathly still after the lunch hour had passed. Once the customer who had taken advantage of the lunch break to drop off his car had left, Yuri Kiselov was left alone in the garage. He scanned his surroundings—there were roughly four vehicles to repair today.

The auto repair shop, which had been running for just over three years now, was operated by Yuri and his father. Technically, it was more a case of Yuri occasionally helping out with his father’s business, but recently, as more and more customers began coming in, the days Yuri had to step in had increased.

Today was one of those days. Belatedly realizing he hadn’t eaten anything all day, Yuri thought he had better just throw something together.

He didn’t have much of an appetite. But he was hungry.

He peeled off his gloves, stained black with congealed oil and grime, and set them on the shelf. The pale backs of his hands revealed beneath were not much different from the gloves themselves. Blue veins coursing beneath prominent knuckles mingled with grease, leaving his hands a complete mess.

Staring quietly at his hands for a moment, Yuri decided to head back to the house situated right next to the repair shop and make do with a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. Since few things were as pointless as spending a long time eating, he figured a simple menu was best.

Having made his decision, Yuri searched for a piece of paper to leave a note saying he would be away. Opening a drawer beneath the desk where repair tools were laid out, he found a book, a notebook, and a pen neatly arranged. Pulling out the writing instruments, organized in keeping with his nature, he began to write the note. Squiggly letters etched themselves onto the paper, trailing the fingers that gripped the pen in a manner somewhat different from most people.

Despite an appearance that could be considered on the tidy side, his handwriting was an illegible scrawl. He had only realized it was so poor after meeting his friend. His one and only comrade and longtime friend always snickered beside him whenever he saw Yuri writing.

Quietly recalling that laughter, which had become harder to hear these days, he approached the entrance to lock the garage door. It was precisely then that an unexpected guest arrived.

It was the kind of visitor you could barely even call a customer.

“Um, hello.”

Yuri turned his gaze toward the small voice coming from outside the shop. A chill briefly flickered across his expressionless pale face before subsiding. Once he confirmed who it was, his wariness receded. The sudden visitor was the woman who had left her car here last Sunday.

Instead of a warm reply, Yuri quietly scrutinized the other person. It was an unavoidable habit. A mannerism ingrained over a lifetime, he first made a basic judgment about strangers—whether they were armed, what intentions they had in approaching him—before deciding on a course of action.

It wasn’t how a normal person usually acted, but that was how Yuri was.

“What brings you here?”

The unsociable greeting slipped from his lips. It wasn’t a gentlemanly attitude toward a woman much smaller than himself. But since Yuri could never be a gentlemanly sort of person, this was about the maximum level of courtesy he could show.

Still, it was an improvement in its own way. Superficial greetings and a manner of speaking that got straight to the point had dulled as he mixed with society. Unlike him, his father, who had long lived life his own way, still spoke no differently than in the past. Habits accumulated over a long time hardened like layers of sediment, not easily broken.

“Um… do you not remember me? I came by last week. It was Sunday.”

Perhaps his emotionless greeting had intimidated her, as the woman added this and that. Each time, the omega’s gentle pheromones wafted from the woman standing before him. The scents people carry vary from person to person, but an omega’s pheromones tickled like a light breeze, giving a soft, almost melting sensation as if they would vanish if grasped.

Due to their inherent compatibility, alphas like Yuri were fundamentally well-disposed toward omegas. Whether one should call it favorable sentiment or instinctive pull, the pheromones of alphas and omegas were like magnets drawn to each other.

Perhaps for that reason, most alphas were kind to omegas. Unless someone was excessively picky about looks, that was generally the case. The woman before his eyes was objectively beautiful and would be capable of catching any alpha’s attention anywhere. So Yuri’s brusque attitude seemed to have confused her.

Seeing her roll her pretty green eyes and gauge his mood, Yuri tried to figure out why the woman had come here. He didn’t know her name, but he remembered the car she’d left. A ’22 Subaru Forester, an uncommon blue body. There had been dirt on the tires, as if she frequented trails, and small stone chips on the windshield. The interior had been fairly clean, but stiff hairs had clung to the seat, suggesting she owned a dog, and unusually, a dash cam had been installed.

She had seemed like an ordinary person. The hands he had glanced at briefly were soft, with no calluses or fine wrinkles, appearing far removed from rough work. This was about all Yuri remembered about the woman.

After a moment’s hesitation, Yuri gave a slight nod. It wasn’t a warm answer, but the woman’s face brightened even at that.

“You do remember! I’m so glad. The car suddenly gave me trouble back then, and I was really in a bind. By chance, I found a place open on Sunday and rushed over, and I was so grateful you fixed it quickly. So…”

The longer she spoke, the more the woman’s earlobes flushed crimson. As if being chased, she blurted out the words she’d prepared, then took a short breath and held something out to Yuri. As he followed the white paper shopping bag she carefully extended, a sweet scent rose from within. The cloying sweetness, so unfamiliar it nearly numbed his nasal passages, pricked at his nose.

“I made some desserts as a thank you. It’s pie.”

Ah… I see.

Yuri was thirty-two years old this year. At this age, he more than understood the meaning hidden within goodwill, and he was especially familiar with it if it was a flirtation between an alpha and an omega. Uncomfortable seeing her holding a paper bag that looked heavy, he wordlessly reached out a hand first. Their hands touched briefly as they held the handles. The woman’s hand was small enough to fit entirely within Yuri’s palm.

As their fingers brushed, the woman flinched and raised her gaze to look up at him. He absently examined the pretty face tinged with anticipation and excitement, then dryly lowered his eyes to observe the pie. The dessert the customer handed over was an apple crumble cherry pie with a thick, crisp crust.

Covered on top with a crumbly crumble, the inside was appetizingly baked full of fresh cherries and apples, wafting a fragrant smell. The round pie, fit for a store display, exuded a warm steam as if freshly made, and the woman’s hand holding it out was tinged as red as the cherries. With June drawing to an end and the weather on the verge of warming, the redness likely wasn’t from the cold.

It looked delicious. Both the smell and the appearance were so. But Yuri looked at the pie for a moment, then handed it right back to the woman.

“That’s alright.”

Still, thinking he should at least have a reason for refusing, he added truthfully, “I’m not one for desserts.”

Yuri disliked sweet things. Even a little sweetness made the tip of his tongue sting and killed his appetite, but more than that, he found the peculiar deception sugar practiced distasteful. Since the pleasure that momentarily surged the instant you ate something sweet felt like a trick against reality, when it came to desserts, he didn’t even pretend to eat out of politeness.

“Do you have an allergy, by any chance?”

The woman asked, slightly startled. Unlike where Yuri had lived, this city was a place that meticulously took note of allergies like gluten or dairy, so the woman looked uncomfortable, wondering if she had made a mistake.

Yuri debated whether he should speak more clearly but decided to leave it be for now.

“No, I just don’t eat it.”

“I see. That’s a shame.”