Ryōta Kitazawa didn't really react to the cheers—he walked exactly as he always did.
> "Ah! There's Kitazawa-kun! Everyone, quick!"
At his appearance, a swarm of reporters rushed forward, encircling him like a tidal wave.
> "Kitazawa-kun! Over here!"
Suddenly, car horns blared as a sleek blue Thunderbird sedan shot into the crowd. A striking woman stepped out, wearing oversized sunglasses and a bright smile.
It was Misato Katsuragi, unmistakably coming to see Ryōta.
> "Who is that woman? Why is she so close to Kitazawa-kun?"
"Tch—who's this vixen trying to steal Kitazawa-kun from us?"
Girls whispered resentfully, sensing a rival. Misato's fame and beauty were intimidating—no wonder the crowd bristled.
Ryōta, trying to escape the media swarm, spotted Misato and headed toward her with relief.
> "I was just passing by. Come on in—dinner's on me. Kitazawa-kun, will you accept?" Misato's tone was warm, her every movement graceful.
She looked stunning—no longer in jeans and a red jacket, but a form-fitting skirt that accentuated her figure.
Ryōta smiled and nodded.
> "Since Miss Katsuragi invited me, I can't refuse."
He slipped into the car, and it sped away.
Outside, the gathered girls hissed in frustration as Kitazawa-kun departed with the glamorous Misato. Their jealousy surged—grumbling, they secretly cursed her.
Inside the car, Misato gave a triumphant smile.
> "I expect your admirers are furious right now."
Ryōta offered a wry smile.
> "Don't tease me. I've had enough trouble lately—even my home was swarmed. It's getting disruptive."
He knew the Chinese proverb: "The nail that sticks out gets hammered down." He had to stay low—any misstep would put him in the crosshairs.
That thought made him crack a faint, fleeting cold smile.
> "So—why not come stay at my place for a while? I asked permission. Stay as long as you like."
Her offer had a subtle allure. Two people in one apartment... and that faint scent of YSL perfume whispered temptation.
He quietly smiled, said nothing.
I'll go. What man would turn her down?
---
Inside her apartment...
> "Welcome! From today on, this is your home—make yourself comfortable!"
Ryōta's cough couldn't mask his awkwardness at the scene inside.
Misato's place was a mess—not just messy, but chaotic. Underwear and bras scattered every few steps.
Ryōta, unbothered, bent down and started tidying up—of course, stealing a discreet glance at Misato as he did.
> "Everything okay, Kitazawa-kun?" she asked, noticing his hesitation.
> "Yeah, it's fine," he said, continuing to clean.
Misato watched with quiet delight, suspecting he might be embarrassed. He moved her deeply.
She grinned inwardly—had she finally found something to make him uncomfortable?
But Ryōta… was thinking, She intoxicates the senses—easy to talk about, but dangerous to trust.
Under his breath: "No wonder... less than a hundred kilos, flat-chested, short. Ancient wisdom hasn't lied."
---
Dinner—marketing strategy style
> "Cheers!"
They clinked their beer glasses. Misato knocked back gulps, then belched and smiled, relaxed.
Ryōta could only shake his head.
The dinner was supermarket takeout—but Misato had shed the skirt, wearing only a camisole and underwear. Ryōta swallowed hard, avoiding any glance.
He thought:
This is stagecraft at its finest.
Misato shifted closer and rested her head on his shoulder, intoxicated and sweet:
> "Kitazawa-kun… you should drink some too…"
Ryōta pinched his nose—he'd already smelled the YSL perfume. His cup stood untouched.
She'd only had one small beer—barely anything. But the seductive game was on.
Ryōta suppressed a grateful smile, inwardly thinking: Your acting gets full marks.
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