Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [44]

Whether it was a weekend or a weekday, Tokyo trains were always packed to the brim.

Figuring out how to close the train doors without slicing someone in half was a daily nightmare for the station staff.

To make the trains move at all, the staff often had to use their full strength just to push people inside far enough to shut the doors.

Inside one such packed train, a girl quietly read a book, her expression calm and composed.

The noise around her seemed sealed away by some invisible barrier, as if no sound could reach her.

Noon sunlight streamed gently through the windows, casting a warm glow over her delicate features. It crowned her cool, elegant face in soft gold.

The entire scene looked like a painting.

As if, even if the world ended, this girl would still be standing there, reading.

Resting against her shoulder was a boy—a strikingly handsome one.

His face was sharply defined, with curved brow arches and understated double eyelids that gave him a reserved, almost Eastern elegance.

His high-bridged nose and sculpted jawline flowed in clean, aristocratic lines, creating a look of refined, indulgent beauty.

A true bishounen.

A perfect fusion of Western bone structure and Eastern skin tone. The ideal blend of sharp and soft.

The kind of beauty that transcended region, genre, age, and culture—undeniable, universal.

Afraid of disturbing the boy’s sleep, the girl held her position for five whole minutes.

Her gaze occasionally flicked toward him, filled with a quiet, unspoken affection.

A beautiful girl and a beautiful boy. Anyone who looked at them would think only one word:

Perfect.

Just the sight of them standing together was its own kind of aesthetic pleasure.

Please get married, several beauty-worshiping passengers prayed silently.

Everyone assumed they were a sweet couple.

But the truth was—Komi Shouko didn’t even know the boy who was leaning on her shoulder: Kitahara Takeru.

She vaguely remembered him stepping on her foot once before on the way to school, but “knowing him” would be a stretch.

What do I do? Should I push him off? But that’ll wake him up, won’t it? He looks really tired... but my stop is coming up...

Underneath Komi Shouko’s flawless, unreadable expression, an epic internal struggle was unfolding.

She wanted to push Kitahara off. But she just... couldn’t.

(>_<)!!!

She’d already decided a dozen times in her head, visualized exactly how she would do it. But when it came time to act, nerves locked her in place.

“Next stop: Ochanomizu.”

Regardless of the storm inside her, the train moved steadily along its route.

This is my stop!!!

Komi’s eyes snapped wide. She closed her book with a snap, squared her shoulders, and turned to face the problem directly.

Come on, Shouko. You can do this.

Her eyes filled with steely resolve, sharp enough to cut through fog.

This time, she was determined. She was going to wake him up.

Her gaze was unwavering. Her posture was full of power. To a bystander, she looked ready to enter an MMA cage match.

And then...

Nothing happened.

She stared at Kitahara.

Watched the train doors slowly slide shut.

And still said nothing.

...I knew it. I can’t do it.

As the doors sealed, Komi hung her head like she’d just failed the most important test of her life.

One point for the Wimp Squad.

This is all your fault.

She glared at Kitahara, her normally sharp, upturned eyes turning into big dot-eyed blobs of silent fury.

She stared at him with the intensity of a death beam, willing him to wake up.

Kitahara, of course, was dreaming.

In his dream, he was standing on a luxurious yacht, gleefully throwing stacks of money into the air.

Surrounded by stunning women of every style and skin tone, he grinned like a cartoon villain.

A party. A real silver-decked yacht party.

This—this was why he’d spent his life tiptoeing through hell, pandering to women, licking boots, playing the perfect man-on-call. For this moment.

He laughed like a Gengar in mating season.

Let the music play. Let the girls dance.

This party was going three days and three nights.

…Huh. Drooling.

Komi noticed the drool starting to trail from the corner of Kitahara’s lips.

Her blob eyes somehow turned even rounder.

Absolutely disgusting.

First meeting—he stepped on her.

Second meeting—leaned on her and drooled.

What’s next?

This guy was too much.

Komi had already held back so many times.

Now, she had had it.

She’d reached her breaking point.

And then... chose to do nothing.

That’s right—Komi Shouko, queen of silent self-destruction, folded again.

You couldn’t even call it mercy. More like defeat.

He’d hit her limit, so she just... lowered the bar.

When is he going to wake up...

♪ "If you don't love me, give me back my heart~" ♪

Just as Kitahara was about to undergo a critical transformation from boy to man in his dream, his phone rang.

Dream: destroyed.

He woke up.

Full of pure, undiluted rage.

Why is it that men always wake up right before the good part of a dream?

Answer: Render engine encountered missing asset. System crash.

Translation: Hey, dummy, I ran out of ideas. Get up.

So yes, Kitahara had every right to be salty.

"Hello?!"

Still half-asleep, he answered the call without lifting his head, still resting against Komi’s shoulder.

He’s STILL leaning on me?!

Komi’s round face puffed in frustration.

And yet…

So cute...

The bystanders didn’t see her anger—they just thought Komi Shouko looked adorable.

"Where are you, Takeru?! You’re late!" It was Shijō Maki on the other end.

“I’m almost at D—”

Kitahara paused.

Ōkubo?
Where even is that?

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Did something happen?” Maki’s voice crackled with worry.

“I’m close, I’m close. Two stops away. Just hang on a bit.”

Classic line of someone who's nowhere near their destination:
"Just around the corner," "Two stops away," etc.

If you’re actually close, you don’t answer the phone. You glare at it in irritation.

“Oh... okay then. I’ll wait.”

Maki believed him.

Because she didn’t have the kind of friends who’d lie to her like that.

Sighing, Kitahara hung up.

Well… he was almost somewhere.
Just about to hit the JR Chūō Line’s starting station.

Feeling drool at the edge of his mouth, he reached up to wipe it—only to brush against something soft.

What was that?

He turned to look…

And found himself staring directly into Komi Shouko’s wide, unblinking bean eyes.

---

T/N: komi is so cutre

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!