Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [49]

“No!”

Despite trying everything—pleading, explaining, practically talking himself hoarse—Kitahara Takeru still couldn’t get Shijō Maki to hand over Kashiwagi Nagisa’s phone number.

He was fuming.

Didn’t Nagisa say Maki considered him a friend now?

Since when can’t you even get a friend’s number from a friend?

He slammed the table. “Fine. That’s it for today. I’ve got other things to do.”

No number?

Fine.

He was going fishing.

Annoyed beyond belief, Kitahara decided to officially end the date.

He’d already earned enough points. He could forcibly cancel the mission.

What’s it cost—10,000 measly points?

Not like he cared! Not at all!

A man had to be strong.

You can’t let a woman walk all over you.

Sure, it might’ve been a childish “hmph, I’m not playing with you anymore” kind of move, but this was the only form of resistance he could muster against the heiress across from him.

Wait… was slamming the table too aggressive? What if I pissed her off?

Kitahara had barely made it a few steps from the table before regret set in.

He’d gotten carried away and momentarily forgotten: the girl sitting across from him was a real, bonafide ojō-sama.

With influence that might even surpass Kashiwagi Nagisa.

What was he thinking, pulling an attitude on her?

That was reckless.

Come on, Maki, call out to me. Just say something. One word, and I’ll stop.

He was already preparing an excuse to backpedal.

Just give him a chance, and he’d demonstrate what “eating your words” truly looked like.

“Wait—Takeru, where are you going?”

Shijō Maki panicked as soon as she saw him walking off.

Tsundere she might be, but her version of tsundere was fundamentally different from Eriri’s.

Maki’s “tsun” only made up maybe 20%; the rest was pure “dere.”

Eriri, on the other hand?

Let’s just say—her “tsun” was 98%, and whatever trace of “dere” remained could be ignored entirely.

By comparison, Maki was way more endearing.

“Home.”

Kitahara stopped at once, turning back, playing it cool as he replied stiffly.

You want to know which part of him is hardest?

His mouth.

“Don’t go! Fine, I’ll give it to you, okay?!”

Maki hastily set a ¥5,000 bill on the table, grabbed her purse, and chased after him.

Kitahara’s eyes went wide. He rushed back, leaned toward the staff, and said sternly, “Change, please!”

This reckless girl!

Two drinks—one coffee, one frappuccino—and she left ¥5,000?

Are you crazy?

No wonder shops loved overcharging women.

They were easy profit!

Maki blinked in confusion as Kitahara, who had just stormed off, returned to collect the change and stuffed the coins into her hand.

“Even if you’re loaded, you shouldn’t be throwing money around like that. That’s a bad habit—you need to break it.”

Kitahara spoke like a concerned father.

He was always thrifty—spending when needed, saving where he could. The kind of guy who biked to the bar and brought his own grocery bags to the store.

Maki looked down at the handful of coins, then at Kitahara—now giving her a full-blown lecture—and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Seriously… what can I even do with this?”

She gave more than that just in tips.

“What can you do?” Kitahara’s face darkened.

When he was in high school, his weekly allowance wasn’t even a hundred bucks.

“Come on.”

Kitahara grabbed her by the hand and started walking toward the door.

“Today, I’m going to show you what you can do with ¥4,200!”

He was dead serious.

He’d decided it was time for this young lady to get a firsthand taste of ordinary life.

Maki didn’t resist.

Instead, she stared in quiet amazement at the hand holding hers.

So this is what a boy’s hand feels like… It’s so big.

She had known boys had larger hands—but she’d never compared side-by-side. Let alone held hands.

It’s like when people say girls are soft and smell nice, but you haven’t hugged one yourself—you just can’t truly understand it.

Einstein once said, “Experimentation is the sole criterion of truth.”

And now, at sixteen years old, holding hands with a boy for the first time…

Shijō Maki realized: Wow, boys’ hands are really big.

In that moment, a door to a new world creaked open.

“So this is… a train? There are so many people.”

Seated in the spot Kitahara had snatched from an unsuspecting middle-aged man, Maki looked around the carriage like Grandma Liu entering the Grand View Garden—her eyes wide with awe.

Around her, other passengers were giving her strange looks.

She radiated wealth.

Even though Maki never put effort into her wardrobe, everything she wore was top-shelf expensive.

And even if someone wore the exact same outfit, Maki’s upper-crust upbringing still set her apart.

Money really did polish people.

Rich kids—unless genetically unfortunate—just didn’t come out ugly.

“You’ve never taken a train before?”

Kitahara had only managed to secure a seat for her. He himself stood in front of her, shielding her from the crowd.

If this girl got bumped or bruised, he might need to consider his burial arrangements.

“Never. I’ve never used… public transportation,” Maki said bluntly. Her tone was begging for a slap, but Kitahara knew she was being honest.

Given her status, she was probably chauffeured everywhere in high-end cars. There was no way someone like her had ever squeezed onto a rush-hour train.

It really was true—people live in very different worlds, even in the same city.

Kitahara believed her.

The nearby passengers didn’t.

“So what’s it feel like?” he asked. He was genuinely curious—what was a rich girl’s first train ride like?

“It’s crowded… smells like sweat… but kind of… interesting.”

Maki tilted her head, thinking for a second before sharing her honest impression.

“Well, that’s the life of the average person.”

Kitahara smiled, not saying much more.

He brought her all the way to Tabata Ginza Shopping Street in Kita, Tokyo.

An old-school shopping arcade, filled with Showa-era nostalgia.

As they walked, Maki felt like she had stepped into another time entirely.

But what stunned her most wasn’t the buildings—it was the prices.

It felt like the cost of living had gone backward in time.

When Kitahara brought her to a tiny oden stall called Tsukuda-chū, her eyes went wide the moment she saw the menu.

Not because the food was expensive—but because it was so cheap.

You might not believe this, but in Tokyo…

You could get a skewer of oden for just ¥25.

A whole bowl? ¥80.

The prices were so low, Maki could hardly believe her feet were still standing in Tokyo—a city where land cost more than gold.

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This is a fan translation of 不是说只拿我当替身的吗？by 雪碧加冰. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!