"He's no longer by your side, but traces of him are everywhere. That's what I can't get over."
Eriri was genuinely a good person.
If Takashi had never known about her past with Aki Tomoya, maybe he would've fallen for this girl.
Being with her would've been a good choice.
Unfortunately, there are no what ifs in this world.
"And also, Eriri, Utaha—are you two really sure you like me?"
Both Utaha and Eriri were stunned, looking at him with teary, confused eyes.
"The name I gave you was fake. The personality you liked—I acted that out. Even my style and appearance were tailored to your tastes."
"You don't know my real personality. You don't know my hobbies. You don't even know me at all."
"Isn't it possible that what you loved was never really me—but a version of Watanabe Takashi that never existed?"
Takashi 's words shook them.
Just as he said—they didn't really know him at all.
Their affection for him had always been based on his identity as Watanabe Takashi.
If not for that identity, would either of them have fallen for him?
"I asked you both here today to clear things up face-to-face."
Takashi pushed Eriri away and stood up from his chair.
"If nothing unexpected happens, this should be the last time we see each other."
"Don't go hurting yourselves over me. I'm not worth it."
"Besides your parents, no one in this world is truly worried about you."
A child refusing to eat only affects their parents.
"Goodbye."
Takashi walked away steadily, step by step under their gaze.
Just as he pushed open the restaurant doors, he paused and looked back.
"More than being Watanabe Takashi—I'd rather be Kitahara Takashi ."
It was a strange thing to say—since Watanabe Takashi and Kitahara Takashi were the same person.
But both Utaha and Eriri understood what he meant.
He didn't want to be someone's second-best.
He wanted to be his own unique self.
"He's not… Takashi."
Utaha murmured, staring at Takashi's retreating back.
He was Watanabe Takashi, and yet—he was the one who least resembled Watanabe Takashi.
…
Outside the hotel lobby, Takashi checked his neck using the front camera of his phone.
Fortunately, Utaha hadn't cut too deep—just a shallow slice.
Otherwise, he might not even be alive right now.
Truly, being too romantic comes with risks. It's better to be faithful.
Takashi was contemplating whether to go to a hospital or just stick on a bandage when he suddenly heard a surprised yelp behind him.
He turned to look—then immediately turned back like it was nothing.
"Hey! That's super rude, you know."
Chika stomped up to Takashi in a huff.
"We've met before, haven't we? And you don't even say hello?"
"Little niece, is that how you speak to your uncle? No manners at all."
Takashi frowned and scolded her with the tone of a strict elder.
Due to the complex ties between the Konoe and Fujiwara families, by seniority, Chika had to call him 'uncle.'
"Uncle, my ass!"
Chika got even angrier.
You haven't even married Big Sis Hitomi, and now you want to act like my uncle?
Believe it or not, I'll punch you.
"What a rude brat. Is this how the Fujiwara family raises their children?"
Takashi clicked his tongue.
"You…"
Chika was about to argue when her eyes locked onto the wound on his neck. Her eyes widened in shock.
"Were you assassinated?!"
"It's just a slash, that's all."
Takashi's casual reply made Chika's already wide eyes bulge further.
"Just" a slash?
What kind of grudge ends with a knife to the throat?!
"My grandpa has a private doctor in his suite. Come with me."
Chika shook her head and pulled Takashi back into the hotel.
…
Three minutes later, in the presidential suite at the top floor of the hotel.
Takashi and Nakano Maruo stared at each other.
Not you again?! ×2
That was the shared thought between them.
Neither expected to see each other twice in just three days.
"Takashi, take a seat. Dr. Nakano's quite skilled."
Chika's grandfather chuckled, patting the seat beside him.
Skilled, my ass!
Takashi shivered at the memory of the painful treatment Nakano gave him for his arm injury not long ago.
"Takashi, how long have you and Hitomi been dating?"
Chika's grandfather asked kindly.
Takashi knew this old man had once served as Prime Minister. He instinctively sat a little straighter.
"Not even half a month."
"You've already slept together in less than half a month?"
Chika, who had just sipped her tea, spat it out and stared at Takashi in horror.
Modern relationships might be fast, but this was way too fast.
In half a month, they already acted out the entire plot of some romance manga. (@Kaguya-sama)
"So, how many kids are you planning to have? Chosen any names yet?"
Chika's grandfather remained calm.
In Japan, losing your virginity before high school graduation is quite normal for boys.
"Grandpa, isn't this a little too early? They're only seventeen. Who talks about kids at that age?"
Just as Chika finished complaining, Takashi scratched his head. "Hitomi said she wants two or three."
"You actually talked about that?!"
Chika felt like she wasn't even the same age as Takashi anymore.
She was still stuck in her preschool cartoons, while they were already planning baby names.
"Young and healthy—it's the perfect time to have more."
Grandpa Fujiwara nodded approvingly.
"How many are you and Narii planning to have?"
Chika's pupils shrank in shock.
Wait a sec—you're serious about this? You're not even sparing Narii now?
That's Hitomi's little sister! Even if they're not related by blood!
"That depends on how many Narii want."
Honestly, it didn't matter how many—as long as they were boys.
Not because Takashi looked down on girls, but because he was afraid his little cotton-padded jackets would get stolen by pigs.
Worse, that they might meet a bastard like himself.
It's just one of those fears all future fathers share, he figured.
"So how many lovers do you have now?"
Chika: "..."
"Lovers? Please. It's just… in the bustling city, when lonely souls—ow!!!"
Takashi suddenly cried out in pain.
"It's going to sting a bit, bear with it,"
Nakano Maruo said dryly as he firmly pressed a cotton swab into Takashi's wound.
That's what you get for being a womanizer.
That's what you get for messing with Nino's feelings.
There are only five little cotton-padded jackets in my family—and you messed with four!
___
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