The boy in front of her—who looked like an ordinary high school student—had already been staring at her for half an hour.
Even though he'd chosen the deluxe 699-yen package, "Reliving Youthful Memories – Gold-Tier High School Uniform Massage," the woman still felt unnerved under that scorching gaze.
But seriously… he looked like an actual high schooler.Why would a real high school kid spend this much money just to look at a uniform?Hadn't he seen enough of them at school already?
The woman, now twenty-four, had always been confident playing the role of a schoolgirl. But now, confronted with a real teenager, she suddenly felt her entire professional identity shaking.That face of his—eight or nine times out of ten—had probably seen more real schoolgirls than she ever had.
He wasn't going to ask her to help with his math homework later, was he?
She'd only gone to vocational school… vocational school didn't prepare you for calculus.
"Why are you doing this job?"
"Huh?"
"You look pretty good. Why do this for a living?" the boy asked.
"When I was young, my dad got addicted to gambling—"
"No amount of pi addiction is good for you either,"
The boy cut her off instantly.
"Doesn't it hurt your grades?"
"I'm not a high schooler, I'm a cosplay worker. I don't have grades, only performance metrics."
"But people around you must gossip, right? If I bring you back home, I'd have to explain everything to my relatives and friends. And we'd have to worry about wiping away the negative impact of your… dark past."
The woman began sweating.What was with this kid's tone?Was… was he planning to marry her?
So young, yet already possessed the heart of a redeemer.
Still… judging by his looks, it wouldn't be the worst fate.
"And if you want to switch careers in the future, it'll be tough, right? Like, say you debut as a celebrity and someone discovers you used to wash feet. They'll flood the comments with stuff like: 'A performer kept by businessmen—yet you treat her like a treasure.'"
The boy analyzed seriously.
"If there's a benefit to this job, it's that some guys might pay extra to have you wash their feet later. But if I have that kind of money, why wouldn't I just go book a—"
"Hey! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
The woman snapped.
She felt like she was being mocked. Wearing this school uniform was already humiliating enough, and now a literal high schooler was shaming her too.
"I'm done! Screw your massage! Go wash your brain instead!"
Infuriated, she got up to leave.
"Then refund my 699."
"I gave you forty minutes of a seventy-minute package. You still want a refund?!"
"Then refund four hundred, and give me one of those 399 discount coupons. I know you have them—I saw one at the front desk."
The boy spoke with complete sincerity.
"…"
Holding the coupon, Asakura Kaito walked out of the spa center.
The rain had just stopped, leaving puddles along the street.
Staring at the [Omni-Producer System] interface floating before him, he sighed.
Still no suitable partner…
He had reincarnated into this parallel world eighteen years ago and thought he'd live a peaceful life.But last week, he suddenly bound to something called the Omni-Producer System.
The system couldn't be activated by him alone—it required bonding with a female partner.
By nurturing that partner into a world-adored idol, Kaito could increase his own attributes and receive rewards based on masterpieces from his past life—novels, music, manga, scripts, and more.
But despite his face being the envy of countless men, his ultra low-energy school life meant he had practically zero experience with girls.
Finding a girl to bond with… was far from easy.
In desperation, he'd come to the foot-massage parlor.
After all, it was the lowest-cost place where men could interact with pretty women.
But alas, foot-massage girls were still foot-massage girls.
Even if he put one in idol clothing, the most she'd probably come up with would be a "Handshake Event Masssage Experience – Gold-Tier Stage Costume Edition."
Clearly, this wasn't something that could be rushed.
If he accidentally bonded with the wrong person, the rest of his life would be spent as a lobby manager.
What kind of manager?
Naturally—the legendary lobby manager of Golden Sole Spa, mentor to countless beautiful masseuses, known as the "Foot-Massage King," Mr. Asakura Kaito himself.The man who possessed a system yet still dedicated his life to the foot-washing industry.After death, he would be honored in ancestral temples and worshipped for a thousand years.
…Unfortunately, current high school senior Asakura Kaito had no interest in foot massages whatsoever.
By the time he left the massage parlor, night had already fallen.Kaito boarded the subway home.
He lived alone in a cheap rental room inside an old apartment complex. The environment was old and worn-down, but the location was good—within the city's second ring, six subway stops from school, and only a few kilometers from downtown. Perfect for a commuting student.
The building faced the street, and the first floor housed a quaint, artsy café.
To save a few extra steps, Kaito usually walked straight through the café to get home.
The café owner, an elderly man with snow-white hair named Kamiya, always seemed energetic despite his age.Since he knew Kaito lived alone, he always greeted him warmly, asked about his daily life, and even gave him pastries or homemade wine on holidays.
For that, Kaito felt genuinely grateful.
Even though he didn't drink coffee, he often bought a cup at night just to support the man—though Kamiya frequently refused to take his money.
Tonight, however, when Kaito reached the café, he found it dark inside, doors shut.
It was only a little past nine. Closing this early?
Strange.
Normally, the café closed at 11:30.And in reality, it often stayed open later—once, when Kaito came home at 3 a.m., the lights were still on.
Maybe something came up…
Kaito approached the glass door to take a look.
Just then, the door opened from inside.
A girl with a cello on her back walked out—and ran right into Kaito.
Her face was delicate and plain, her uniform the same as his school's, her long hair tied into a neat ponytail.
But her eyes… they were completely lifeless.
Upon seeing Kaito, her lips trembled slightly.
"Do you need something?"
"Where's old man Kamiya?"
"He's not here. I'm watching the shop today."
"And you are…?"
"His granddaughter."
"Oh."
"Mm."
Their conversation ended there.
The girl brushed past him, her cello case grazing his shoulder.
She tossed a bag of trash into the street bin, returned to the café, and locked the door.
Watching her back disappear, Kaito frowned.
He never knew Kamiya had a granddaughter—let alone one who went to his high school.
Then again, he'd always been the one receiving care; he'd never really thought about Kamiya's family.
He originally wanted to ask if he could pass through the café like usual.
But seeing the girl's icy demeanor, he gave up.
She seemed like someone it would be impossible to communicate with.
Kaito walked into the apartment complex and up the stairs to the sixth floor.He lived in unit 603.
Per regulations, any floors above six required elevators, so most old buildings capped at six floors.
When he reached the landing, he saw the girl again.
She sat on the railing wall outside the sixth floor—right in front of his door—still carrying the heavy cello.
Her pale legs… were dangling off the edge.
What was she doing?Cooling off?Looking for a lost cat?
She couldn't possibly be trying to kill herself… right?
The girl turned her head and saw him too.
"Can you not die right outside my front door?" Kaito asked.
"Okay."
She scooted over—moving from in front of 603 to in front of 602.
"That's not any better. Maybe try another floor?"
"Lower floors might not kill me."
"Head first works."
Kaito thought about it.But then she'd need the cello strapped to her head, and she definitely couldn't do that alone—he'd have to help.
And then every day when he came home and looked in the mirror, he'd see 100 floating above his head.
"Try the rooftop?"
"It's locked. I don't have the key."
"The padlock opens if you pull it down. It's not actually locked."
"Oh."
The girl suddenly understood.
She slowly turned around, lowered her legs, and hopped off the short wall.
"Thank you."
"No problem."
Kaito nodded, took out his keys, and was about to enter his apartment—
When the girl suddenly paused mid-step, walked back down, and spoke again.
"Oh, right. Could you help me keep this safe for a moment?"
She took the cello off her back.
"That might be a problem. Sorry," Kaito refused.
"…Alright." She sounded a little disappointed."Then I wish you a good night."
"You too. Good night."
With that, the girl headed upstairs toward the rooftop.
Kaito unlocked his door and went inside.
He opened the fridge, grabbed a cup of old, homemade iced coffee, and collapsed onto the sofa, turning on his computer to enjoy some downtime before his shower.
However—
After a minute passed…
Kaito began to feel that something wasn't quite right.
Wait…
She…She's not actually going to kill herself, right?