[ That smile makes the daemon’s chest feel—stuffy. He glances away, ignoring the strange way his heart sputters like an engine trying to start. Turns out that even Matoba can be cute sometimes, huh. ]

It isn’t. [ satisfied with the clothes neatly put away, Rokurou sits beside Matoba on the bed, leaning back on his hands and rolling his neck, ] But if that’s what you want to do, you should do it.

[ Rokurou shrugs, turning his head to lazily look at the man beside him. While consuming sweets at the rate he’s going will end up with Matoba fat and diabetic, who is he to judge? A daemon like him can’t judge anyone. ]

Alright. Let’s say you spend four hours eating sweets. What do you want to do with the remaining twenty? It’s a whole day.