Chapter 3: Eriri
While the sisters debated how to spin worthless garbage into an art piece...
In an inconspicuous alley outside the auction house, a middle-aged man in that garish green suit hummed cheerfully while polishing the gray stone against an expensive silk handkerchief.
When he spotted the youth leaning against the wall absorbed in his phone, he jogged over immediately, presenting the stone with both hands in a respectful gesture.
"Boss, mission accomplished."
"That woman bought the 'daughter' story instantly. Your script worked like a charm."
Kazama Chiba pocketed his phone and accepted the talisman.
"Well done."
He transferred one million yen via mobile payment.
The two men exchanged glances and shared a knowing smile.
This entire operation had been Kazama's setup from the beginning.
After withdrawing from the auction, he'd hired a venue staff member on the spot with a simple proposition: bring back that stone for a one-million-yen budget. Whatever the purchase price, Kazama didn't care—the remaining funds were his commission.
The auction house employees were all shrewd operators. Years working these events had sharpened their people-reading skills to razor precision.
This particular staffer had immediately identified Haruno as someone who responded to emotional manipulation rather than aggressive tactics. He'd improvised the dead hamster story on the spot, combined with the "buying the casket and returning the pearl" approach, successfully acquiring the talisman at a bargain price.
Now, compensation secured, the man's eyes crinkled into crescents.
"Boss is too generous! Next time you need this kind of work, just say the word. I'm a professional actor—spent three years doing bit parts in a theater troupe!"
Kazama didn't respond, simply pocketing the unassuming talisman before fishing another ten-thousand-yen note from his wallet and tossing it over.
"Get yourself some coffee. Remember—you never saw me today."
"Understood! Crystal clear! I'm just a pitiful father buying his daughter a gift. Don't know nothing about nothing else!"
The man caught the cash, bowed repeatedly in gratitude, and vanished down the corridor.
Kazama glanced toward the main hall.
Yukinoshita Haruno appeared to be gesturing wildly at the broken lamp base, her expression broadcasting "I may have lost millions but I'm still elegant." He couldn't help finding it amusing.
Compete with me? You're not ready yet.
Rat Talisman secured, Kazama wasted no time lingering, heading straight home.
Passing an anime merchandise shop, he purchased several figures on impulse, planning to use them for experiments.
Ten minutes later, carrying two massive shopping bags, he returned to his rental unit on the second floor of a decrepit apartment building.
The interior was spartan: one bed, one desk, several boxes crammed with miscellaneous junk.
Kazama set the bags on the desk and was reaching down to remove his shoes when his phone vibrated.
The screen displayed "Sawamura Spencer Eriri" along with a profile picture she'd forcibly set without permission—the blonde girl flashing a peace sign at the camera, her smile almost blindingly cheerful.
Kazama stared at the name for two seconds, his finger hovering over the green answer button before finally swiping.
"Yeah."
"KAZAMA CHIBA! WHERE THE HELL DID YOU DISAPPEAR TO?!"
The shriek barely required speakerphone to be perfectly audible.
Kazama rubbed his ear, which had just suffered acoustic weapon bombardment.
"I'm busy right now. Unless the planet is literally exploding, I'm hanging up."
"Huh? YOU'RE busy?"
Eriri's voice paused as if she'd heard the most absurd statement imaginable, then pitched up eight octaves. Background noise suggested a crowded shopping district.
"What could YOU possibly be busy with besides school and part-time jobs? Even if you're busy breathing, STOP! I'm at the UDX Building in Akihabara right now. You have twenty minutes—no, FIFTEEN minutes to get here!"
"Sorry, I don't recall signing any indentured servitude contract obligating me to accompany you today."
Kazama's tone remained flat.
"Have you developed amnesia?!"
"Last Wednesday during art club, I casually mentioned 'I want to buy new acrylic paints next weekend,' didn't I? If you heard me, you should've automatically cleared your schedule! Do I need to send you formal written notice for something this basic? Are you stupid?"
The circular logic was genuinely impressive.
In her world, telepathy apparently qualified as essential survival skills.
Kazama continued changing his shoes while speaking.
"Isn't today the game expo? According to your usual pattern, you should be trailing behind Aki Tomoya, fighting through crowds for limited-edition merchandise."
Silence descended on the other end.
That machine-gun complaining cut off like someone had grabbed her throat.
Several seconds passed before a notably less confident voice emerged.
"That's... Tomoya said he had to help Kasumigaoka Utaha with some outline review last minute... Anyway, it's that scheming woman's fault! Calling Tomoya away at such a critical moment is absolutely unforgivable!"
Kazama leaned against the desk, watching the rusted laundry rack outside his window.
As expected. With minimal brainpower, anyone could deduce that Kasumigaoka Utaha had used some excuse to monopolize the glasses-wearing otaku, or perhaps Katou Megumi—that seemingly background character—had silently claimed the protagonist's weekend again.
"So you got stood up, nobody's available to carry your bags, and suddenly you remembered I might be free?"
Eriri seemed to hit a nerve.
"Don't make it sound so terrible!"
"What do you mean 'remembered you're free'? This is me giving YOU an opportunity! Being allowed to accompany me shopping is a privilege many people beg for! Enough talking—you have twenty minutes to reach Central Station's east exit. The art supply store I need requires lining up early or—"
In the past, Kazama would've faced one of those dating sim choice menus.
Different dialogue options to demonstrate loyalty to the heroine. All to increase affection points.
But sorry, miss. Times have changed.
Why would I waste time on dating sim garbage when I have the Rat Talisman?
"I'm not available."
Kazama spoke those four words without a millisecond of hesitation.
The line went dead silent again.
This pause lasted even longer than before.
Obviously, her brain was working overtime trying to process dialogue completely outside her comprehension range.
"Huh? What did you just say?"
After what felt like an eternity, Eriri's voice returned, saturated with disbelief.
This was probably the first time in her life she'd heard such direct refusal from Kazama Chiba.
No justification. No excuses. Not even reluctance.
"Do you understand who you're talking to? Kazama Chiba, this joke isn't funny. I already said if you come right now, I'll make an exception and treat you to that trendy bubble tea that requires three hours of waiting—"
"I said I'm not available."
Kazama cut her off again.
"I'm busy. Besides, since YOU want to buy things, go line up yourself. Or take a taxi home."
"And since Aki Tomoya stood you up, go complain to him. Or cry to your 'Kashiwagi Eri' fanbase on Twitter. Don't bother me."
"Wait! What are you even saying? And how DARE you interrupt me? Hey! Kazama! Listen to me—"
Click.
Kazama hung up without listening to another word.
Peace and quiet.
Less than five seconds later, the phone vibrated again. Same blonde girl's profile picture.
Kazama didn't even glance at it, simply pressing the volume button to switch to silent mode.
Who cares?
All those filters about youth, passion, and romance had shattered beyond recognition long ago.
Admittedly, the previous Kazama Chiba's motivations hadn't been pure.
Transmigrating as a helpless orphan into Japanese society—where class barriers stood harder than any fortress wall—trying to rise through conventional means approached hell-difficulty. So he'd attempted befriending various wealthy young ladies from anime, hoping to eventually break into high society.
Some might accuse him of wanting to leech off others.
But Kazama never cared about such judgments.
Only the wealthy had the luxury of caring about dignity. The poor only worried about securing discount rice at the supermarket.
Some might think he'd acted too ruthlessly.
After all, these were childhood friends. Relationships built over years.
But in Kazama's view, those so-called bonds had long since rotted into unpayable debts.
Under Japan's twisted social structure, genuine friendship between the poor and wealthy never truly existed.
Only unequal resource exchanges.
He'd invested time, energy, and bottomless tolerance, trying to purchase an admission ticket to the upper class.
This was investment.
Business.
But business required returns.
Even donkeys pulling millstones got dangled carrots.
Yet reality demonstrated that no matter how hard Kazama tried, his efforts got effortlessly erased. That protagonist halo functioned like an invisible hand casually confiscating all his accumulated work.
Yukinoshita Yukino exemplified this.
She'd relied on him so heavily as a child. He'd been the one accompanying her through darkness.
The result? A few manipulative words from Haruno, one dismissive comment about mismatched social standing, and Yukino severed all ties without hesitation.
Sawamura Eriri was identical.
He'd always covered for her, solved all her problems, handled her anxieties. But the moment Aki Tomoya beckoned—even for a game development circle that offered nothing but empty promises—she'd discard Kazama like trash, rushing to work as the otaku's free illustrator.
No matter what Kazama accomplished, once the male protagonist appeared, the affection he'd painstakingly accumulated couldn't compete with a single illogical promise from that guy.
This was romance anime's foundational logic:
No matter how much the second male lead achieved, how perfect his behavior, before "destiny" and "loser male protagonists," all accumulated affection meant nothing.
"How thoroughly pointless."
Kazama shook his head, accepting reality.
In these romance anime worlds, regardless of effort invested, he'd ultimately remain nothing but a stepping stone for others' happiness.
His ending could only be that of the clown drinking alone in corners after the main couple achieved their happy ending, forcing out a "congratulations on your happiness."
All his devotion became merely foundation stones for someone else's love story.
All his feelings became merely after-dinner conversation topics.
If that's the script, then I'm done playing your game.
Meanwhile, at the Akihabara UDX Building's outdoor plaza...
Sawamura Spencer Eriri remained frozen, phone pressed against her ear.
Moments ago, before she'd finished her carefully prepared complaints, that man—always gentle, always accommodating, never refusing her anything—had hung up on her.
The busy signal droned in her ear.
She blinked her azure eyes, stiffly lowering the phone to look at the screen.
"No way... right?"
The call duration display read "01:24."
Not poor signal causing disconnection. Not dead battery auto-shutdown.
This was unmistakably deliberate termination.
"That Kazama Chiba... actually DARED hang up on me?"
Eriri hit redial.
"Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please try again later..."
"You've got to be kidding!"
Eriri stamped her foot hard.
"Not available? How could YOU possibly be unavailable! Besides me, you don't have anywhere else to go!"
Eriri bit her lip, furiously stuffing the phone into her limited-edition Hermes handbag, then immediately pulling it back out to check if she'd accidentally set silent mode.
"Fine! Perfect!"
"When you come crawling back begging for forgiveness, no matter what, I absolutely, ABSOLUTELY won't forgive you!"