I was Thrown into an Unfamiliar Manga

Drip drip! Clack!

At that moment—
In a traditional room overlooking a Japanese-style garden, Tojo Karen’s father, Tojo Naoto, was having a private conversation with Boris, one of the elite bodyguards of the Destruction God Ivan and a top security agent of the EE Corporation.
Of course, since Captain Boris could not speak Japanese, the organization’s brain and elite yakuza, Executive Sento Osamu, was stationed next to him in the role of simultaneous interpreter.

“Captain Boris, is Ivan-noya doing well?”
“Сейчас он в больнице.”
Sento Osamu, participating as the interpreter, pushed up his glasses with his middle finger and translated the words in real time.

“He says Ivan-noya is currently in the hospital.”
“What? What happened?”
“Во время боя сломался запястье.”

“During combat, his wrist was broken.”
“Huh…”
Tojo Naoto let out a sigh without realizing it.

To think someone had broken the wrist of the Destruction God Ivan—that was completely beyond his imagination.
“Who did it? One of the other Seven Fists?”
In response, Boris shook his head and answered with a grave expression.

“Kim Yu-seong.”
“Kim Yu-seong.”
After saying that, Boris pointed at the bandage wrapped around his own head.

“Эта рана также была создана им.”
“He says… that this injury was also caused by him.”
Upon hearing that, Tojo Naoto’s eyes went wide.
Captain Boris—who was he, really?

Once a special agent of the now-defunct Soviet KGB, he was a warrior who had survived countless battlefields for decades.
Even after joining Ivan’s forces post-retirement, his abilities were so recognized that he rose to the prestigious position of “Imperial Guard.”
And now, not only had he been wounded, but Ivan—one of the world’s strongest martial artists—had his wrist broken and was hospitalized?

Tojo Naoto’s favorability toward Kim Yu-seong, whom he’d secretly been considering as a potential son-in-law, shot up dramatically.
If he could somehow bring him in as family, maybe he could inject new blood into their slowly declining organization and restore the Toseikai to its former glory.
Sensing Naoto’s growing excitement, Boris calmly warned with a piercing gaze.

“Он человек, которого хочет Чар. Не трогай.”
“He says… he’s someone the Tsar wants. Don’t touch him.”
Tojo Naoto smirked savagely as he touched the scar etched across his face.

“Hah, interesting. Are the grown-ups going to meddle in the youngsters’ love affairs now? We’ll see who Yu-seong ends up dating.”
“Мисс Саша идеальна.”
“He says Miss Sasha is perfect.”

Hearing that, Naoto prepared to boast about Karen, but recalling her usual behavior, he hesitated a beat before shouting,
“Our Karen is cute when she gets dolled up too!”
Which meant, usually, she wasn’t.

“Мисс Саша тоже имеет большую грудь.”
“Ahem, he also says Miss Sasha has large breasts.”
“Our Karen takes after her mother, so she’ll grow even more later!”

That meant she was small for now.
“Kh! I didn’t want to bring this out, but…”
Muttering, Tojo Naoto pulled out a thick album from beneath his cushion.

“Behold! A photo album full of Karen’s adorable moments!”
Not to be outdone, Boris began scrolling through his smartphone with his thick fingers and displayed a photo list.
“У меня тоже есть.”

“…He says he’s got one too.”
As the two men began showing their utterly doting sides and started exchanging increasingly childish barbs, Sento Osamu, watching from the side, shook his head in fatigue.
“Dads with daughters, I swear.”

Although truth be told, Boris had been single for 47 years.
***
What I made using Karen’s kitchen was Korean-style patbingsu.

In Japan, shaved ice is usually referred to as kakigōri—finely shaved ice topped with syrup—but Korean patbingsu is known for its colorful variety of toppings.
I once saw on the news that Japanese people found it so novel to have toppings other than syrup on shaved ice that when a Korean-style bingsu franchise opened in Harajuku, people lined up for blocks.
Anyway, Karen’s kitchen, equipped with more ingredients and gear than a hotel’s, was like paradise for anyone who loves to cook.

I spared no expense using high-end ingredients and restaurant-grade tools to make bingsu.
First, I piled a bowl full of finely shaved ice using a grinder, then topped it with sweet red beans, cookies, vanilla ice cream, syrup, condensed milk, cereal—you /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ name it.
Technically, it’s even tastier if you freeze milk and shave that instead of plain ice, but due to time constraints, I skipped it.

After completing the original patbingsu with care, I moved on to mango bingsu, my personal favorite.
I diced fully ripened mango into neat cubes, placed them atop shaved ice, and drizzled them with condensed milk and mango syrup.
I used similar methods to create melon and strawberry bingsu too—making a total of four varieties in no time.

When I returned to the study room with the finished bingsu, the three who had been lounging around the tatami room immediately shot up.
“Wow! Patbingsu!”
“So this is the Korean-style shaved ice? It’s unique.”

“Красиво (Beautiful)...”
Rika, always the trendsetter among us, must have already known about Korean-style bingsu, because her eyes sparkled with joy.
Karen and Sasha were also drawn in, probably thanks to the bingsu’s vivid, colorful presentation.

All three pulled out their smartphones to snap pictures.
From a cook’s perspective, that was a satisfying sight.
It meant the food was worth preserving in a photo.

“Eat whichever one you like. That’s why I made a variety.”
The first to reach out was, of course, Rika.
She chose the original bingsu.

Karen picked the strawberry one, and Sasha selected the mango bingsu.
Naturally, that left me with the melon bingsu, though I felt a bit regretful.
Melon is good too, but to be honest, I prefer mango.

Maybe that longing showed in my eyes, because Sasha tilted her head and held out the mango bingsu to me.
“Looks like you wanted this. Why don’t we trade?”
“…Thanks.”

Blushing slightly, I agreed to the swap.
With everyone now holding their chosen bingsu, we dug in to enjoy our snack time.
“”Thanks for the food.””

I mixed the mango, syrup, and ice with a parfait spoon and took a bite.
“Mmm.”
The familiar sweetness spread through my mouth. Mango bingsu never lets me down.

Seeing me eat, the others seemed to realize how to eat it too, and they mixed their toppings, syrup, and ice before taking a bite.
In an instant, all three of their eyes widened.
“So good!”

“Maybe because of the fresh fruit? It’s more refreshing than normal bingsu.”
While Rika and Karen were excitedly chattering, Sasha silently dug into the mountain of melon bingsu.
She seemed to like it, thankfully.

Relieved, I was enjoying the sweetness of mango bingsu I hadn’t tasted in a while when Sasha suddenly spoke.
“Yu-seong, want to swap again?”
I nodded without thinking.

“Sure.”
The mango bingsu was hers to begin with.
She only traded with me because I looked like I wanted it, so I had no reason to refuse.

As I held out the bowl, Sasha shook her head and pointed at my spoon.
“Feed me yourself.”
“…Me?”

“You.”
Sasha then scooped up some melon bingsu and held it out to me.
It was that classic couple thing—feeding each other dessert.

With a teasing glint in her eye, Sasha smiled and offered me the spoonful.
She was clearly trying to mess with me.
I reluctantly took the bite of melon bingsu she fed me, then returned the favor by offering her a spoonful of mango.

“Aaang~”
Sasha let out an exaggeratedly cutesy voice and ate the mango bingsu I gave her.
Clearly she was trying to make me feel embarrassed—but unfortunately for her, I’m not the type of guy to get flustered over something like this.

As I kept a poker face, waiting to see what she’d try next, Sasha licked the mango syrup off her lips, then nodded in satisfaction.
“Mmm, mango bingsu is good. I get why you like it now.”

Huh? That’s it? She just wanted to try the mango?
Blinking in confusion at the completely unexpected ending, I turned—only to find Rika and Karen suddenly lunging toward me with their bowls in hand.
“Ryu-chan! Now you have to trade with me!”

“No! I’m the host, so I get to go next!”
As the unexpected popularity of mango bingsu exploded before me, I began to seriously wonder if I should’ve just made only mango bingsu from the start.