Beep beep!
After unlocking the door and entering the room, Takashi first set Kaguya down on the sofa in the living room, then headed straight to the bathroom.
When he came out of a restroom bigger than his own bedroom, he took the chance to examine the room.
Like most presidential suites he'd stayed in with Hitomi, this one followed a twin-suite layout—with separate presidential and lady's rooms, each with its own walk-in closet, study, music room, and bathroom.
Since this was a private estate, the room was even larger than most hotel presidential suites. There was even a swimming pool out on the balcony garden.
Outrageously luxurious.
When Takashi returned to the living room, Kaguya was sitting sideways on the sofa, leaning against one armrest.
Her left leg was seated normally, but her right was bent and resting sideways on the sofa.
Her right hand absentmindedly kneaded her ankle—rubbing it twice, then pausing a bit.
Damn, that leg looks good, Takashi thought.
Kaguya's legs were slender, long, with soft, smooth curves—graceful like a little bird's. Her legs were simply beautiful, especially in a skirt.
Classic little bird legs.
"Still hurt?" Takashi asked, pretending to be concerned while staring directly at her foot.
Her foot was snow-white, with no calluses at all. The sole had a faint pink tint, and her toes curled like little white dumplings.
A flawless foot.
Yup, he wanted to eat it.
"It hurts," Kaguya replied without looking up.
"Then let me massage it for you?" Takashi said, suddenly going all-in, using an earnest and upright tone.
"I know a bit about treating sprains."
Kaguya glanced at him. His eyes were filled with sincerity—but something still felt off.
"No need, I can do it myself."
Unsurprisingly, she turned him down.
Their relationship wasn't as terrible as before, but it wasn't good enough to unlock leg-touching privileges. He'd need to work harder.
"A sprain needs immediate treatment, or it'll bruise." Without waiting for her answer, Takashi gently took her foot and placed it on his thigh.
"I said no—ouch!"
Before she could finish, Takashi lightly twisted her ankle, and she instantly winced in pain.
She instinctively tried to pull away.
"It might hurt a little. Bear with it."
Takashi placed his hands on her ankle and began gently kneading.
Kaguya opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something—but decided not to bother. He wouldn't listen anyway.
Just like when she said "no," and he grabbed her leg anyway, doing whatever he wanted, manipulating her without asking.
What was the point of saying anything?
Forget it, she sighed inwardly.
She suddenly didn't feel like talking anymore. She just wanted to sit in silence.
After massaging her ankle for a bit, Takashi grabbed her foot, twisted it gently, and loosened the joints.
At first, the pain had been sharp, but now, Kaguya was starting to feel some relief.
But the warmth from his large hand and the pressure of his grip made her a little tense—she wasn't used to it.
She tried to make conversation to distract herself.
"Your technique's pretty good. Did you study this?"
"Yeah, I'm decent at it."
Takashi wasn't bluffing when he said he knew how to treat sprains.
He really was good at massage and acupressure.
His best skill, actually… was an oil massage.
Back when he first tried becoming an influencer, his parents didn't support him and he had almost no money.
To survive, he worked for a while as an oil massage therapist.
As for why he chose that job—it all started with Technician No. 66 he met at Red Romance.
"You know a surprising amount of stuff."
"If I didn't, I'd starve. It's not like I was born into money."
Kaguya caught the sarcasm in his voice but didn't get angry. "Are you jealous of me?"
"Who in this whole country isn't jealous of you?" Takashi shot back.
"Yeah, everyone envies me. But this kind of life… isn't really what I want." Kaguya murmured softly.
"If I could choose, I'd want to be a normal person."
Here we go again.
Another I'm rich but not happy cliché.
But if you really made her a commoner, she wouldn't be happy with that either.
Takashi couldn't help but say, "Has anyone ever told you how fake you sound?"
"What did you say?!"
Kaguya instantly snapped out of her melancholy. Her eyes blazed with anger, fixed on Takashi.
She thought he'd respond with sympathy. Maybe ask why. Or at least listen patiently.
Instead, he called her fake.
Unforgivable.
"You say you want to be normal—but do you even know what that life's like?"
Takashi had heard this kind of thing too many times.
He was used to it.
Most people suffer from survivor bias.
Like in their country—people lived under the shelter of a strong, peaceful nation, and assumed the whole world was peaceful too.
But in places they'd never seen, wars raged every day, and people were driven from their homes.
We're not living in a peaceful era—just in a peaceful country.
Kaguya envied ordinary people's lives because she had never actually lived one.
If she had, she'd never say that.
Rich people often have very little imagination when it comes to poverty.
"You think an ordinary life means loving parents, no illness, enough to eat, and peaceful days?"
"And you don't do anything bad, don't break the law, and your family stays safe?"
Kaguya nodded slightly.
Takashi gave a small laugh—half mocking, half amused.
That only deepened the dissatisfaction in Kaguya's eyes.
"If that's what you think a normal life is… you're way off. That's not a normal life—that's a better than average life."
"The real ordinary life: dad works every day, gets scolded by his boss, and barely makes enough. Mom counts every yen, worries over bills, and they argue constantly."
How much money a family has determines their happiness index.
"And if you were a normal student at a public school, you'd be constantly stressed about grades, desperate to get into a top university."
Kaguya might be smart—but she wasn't a genius.
Even with elite tutors and gifted education, she still couldn't beat Takashi on exams.
If she'd grown up in a regular household without those resources, she might not have even cracked the top 100.
"And if your school was a rougher one, and you were still this beautiful, you'd face constant harassment and flirting. You'd have no way to deal with it. Even if you told a teacher, they'd ignore you."
Beauty paired with anything else is a trump card.
But on its own, it's a death sentence.
For a girl from a normal family, being too pretty is not a blessing—it's a curse.
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