Shinagawa Ward, Tokyo – Kameyu Bookstore.
Since it was almost closing time, Yoshikage Kira, with his brilliant blond hair and over 180 cm tall yet lean and well-built physique, was restocking the shelves as usual before finishing work.
Ding-dong~!
The automatic door chimed.
A girl in the same green clerk uniform, her long brown hair tied in a ponytail, stood at the counter and gave a professional smile:
"Welcome—"
Her clear voice abruptly stopped, and her expression grew tense.
Because the people who entered did not look like customers.
There were three of them. Wearing identical white uniforms, baseball caps, and masks covering their faces, clearly afraid of being recognized. Upon entering, instead of browsing the shelves, their eyes immediately locked onto the counter as they walked straight toward it.
One of them reached into his clothes, pulled out a gleaming knife, and said in a low voice:
"Robbery. Hand over the money."
"I…"
The girl, who had never encountered such a situation, froze in panic.
Then a calm voice sounded beside her:
"Aoyama-san, open the register and give them the money."
Aoyama Nanami subconsciously looked toward the speaker.
It was Yoshikage Kira, slowly walking toward the counter.
The three robbers immediately became alert, pulling out their hidden knives. Compared to Aoyama Nanami's delicate appearance, Kira—over 180 cm tall with dyed blond hair—looked like a delinquent. At first glance, they even thought he might be in the same line of work.
To show he meant no threat, Kira raised his hands and calmly said as he approached:
"Do as I say, Aoyama-san. The money belongs to the boss. Your life belongs to you."
"Pretty sensible, kid," the leader narrowed his eyes, seeming relieved.
Even with weapons, fighting someone like him might not go well.
"O-Okay…"
Aoyama Nanami bit her lip but obediently opened the register drawer.
Kira was right. They were just employees. No need to risk their lives for the boss's money.
Click!
The drawer full of bills popped open. The robbers' eyes gleamed with greed as they hurriedly stuffed the money into a bag.
"Let's go!" one of the more timid robbers urged.
The leader nodded and began backing away.
But the last robber stopped, staring at Aoyama Nanami behind the counter and licking his lips.
"Big brother, wait… I want to rob… rob something else."
The other two immediately understood, their gazes turning lewd.
The leader grinned. "That's not a bad idea."
The timid one added teasingly, "Don't be scared. We're not bad guys. Just spend one night with us and nothing will happen."
Aoyama's face turned pale.
One robber reached out to grab her—
Smack!
His hand was slapped away.
Kira's face darkened as he stared coldly at them.
"Who allowed you to touch her?"
How she was didn't matter.
But they dared to touch those hands.
Those pale, delicate hands—how dare they?!
The robber, startled, flushed with anger and pointed his machete at Kira.
"Kid, back off, or—"
Bang!
Kira kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying three meters straight through the glass automatic door.
Crash!
Before the other two could react, Kira had already appeared before them—one slap and another kick. The money bag dropped to the floor. The robbery had failed.
The last robber, trembling, dropped his knife and fled in terror. The other two painfully scrambled up and escaped as well.
Seeing them run away, Aoyama rushed over.
"Kira-kun, are you okay?!"
"I'm fine."
He calmly looked at her worried face… then at her hands.
What beautiful hands.
Slender fingers like tender shoots. Skin as white as cream.
In short—
He wanted to lick them.
His face remained calm, but he admitted—he was aroused.
Given the atmosphere, he believed that if he made an unreasonable request—like asking her to use those slender white hands for something—she might not refuse.
But at that moment—
"Kira-kun, I didn't expect you to be that capable."
A middle-aged man in a suit walked out from the back room.
The store manager, Kameda Tomozō.
Kameda had been hiding in the back during the robbery.
Now he came out, looking at Kira with fear and caution.
"Manager," Aoyama greeted politely, though without respect.
Compared to Kira risking his life, the manager hiding away was pathetic.
"I trained at a dojo for two years when I was young," Kira replied smoothly.
"I see."
The manager's tone changed.
"Kira-kun, this kind of incident is unfortunate. Here's 10,000 yen. Go to the hospital and rest tomorrow. I'll contact you in a couple of days about returning to work."
He handed over the bill with fake concern.
Kira narrowed his eyes.
He knew that "we'll contact you later" trick.
It was a dismissal.
Maybe the manager feared his strength. Maybe he didn't want trouble. After all, Kira looked like a delinquent—tall, blond hair, combat experience. He might bring danger to the store.
The easiest solution? Fire him.
"Alright."
Kira accepted the 10,000 yen.
But instead of leaving, he calmly said:
"Manager, do you know how many hours I work here each week?"
The manager froze.
"Why are you bringing this up?"
"Fifty-four hours."
Kira stepped forward, forcing him back.
"At least 6 hours daily on weekdays. At least 12 hours on rest days."
He continued calmly:
"That exceeds the legal limit of 28 hours per week for students. It's also higher than the standard 40 hours for adults."
"So… you don't want me to report you, do you?"
His tone was indifferent.
Kameda almost laughed in disbelief.
"Hah? You're saying you're a student?! You didn't mention that when you applied!"