Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [35]

Shirogane Kei lightly swayed her silver hair. “No need, my house is just ahead.”

“Look carefully,” Kitahara Takeru said, pointing forward.

Following his gaze, Kei looked up — and frowned in confusion.

At the end of the narrow alley sat a run-down apartment building.

The exterior walls were chipped and weathered, overrun with green vines. The whole structure gave off the air of something waiting to be demolished.

In front of the building squatted a guy with a slicked-back pompadour, smoking a cigarette. Next to him, a blond teen with a buzzcut leaned against the wall — probably his underling.

Neither looked very old. Just a pair of delinquents.

“.....”

Kei fell silent.

Everyone in this neighborhood was just scraping by.

People often dreamed of Tokyo’s neon lights, the glitz and glamour — but beneath the polished surface of the big city were families like Shirogane Kei’s, living ordinary, unadorned lives.

To people like them, Tokyo wasn’t some wonderland. It was just… Tokyo.

“Come on.”

Kitahara’s gaze was steady and unreadable. He said it softly.

Kei got out of the car and gave a slight bow. “Thank you, senpai.”

The old man, still in the driver’s seat, called over to Kitahara:
“I’ll wait here for you.”

“Got it.”

As they walked, Kitahara asked casually, “This why you applied for the job?”

Kei pressed her lips together and gave a soft “Mm.”

“Sorry.”

Kitahara didn’t know what else to say.

Even if he’d known her reasons from the start, he wouldn’t have hesitated to reject her all the same.

To others, it might’ve seemed cold — even heartless.

But feelings were one thing. Rules were another.

Just like how some bubble tea shop hires a 15-year-old dropout with a sad backstory… the labor bureau still hands out a fine. No exceptions.

You could say “we didn’t know” all you wanted — the law didn’t care.

“This has nothing to do with senpai. I don’t blame you.”
Kei gave the faintest shake of her head.

“My family isn’t quite as bad off as you might think. My dad and older brother both work. We can still cover the basics.”

Life was manageable — but tight.

Watching her father come home exhausted every day and her brother work part-time after school, Kei figured she’d help where she could — pick up some odd jobs and lighten the load.

Kitahara recalled the uniform she’d worn the first time they met.

“You go to Shuchi'in Middle, right?”

“Mm.”

Kei gave a tiny nod.

“How many languages do you speak?”

If she were attending a regular public school, he wouldn’t ask that question.

But Shuchi'in was a private academy for the elite.

Its curriculum was far more rigorous than public schools, and many of its students had already mastered multiple languages — their knowledge leagues above their peers.

Kitahara never underestimated anyone. Not even kids younger than him.

After all, some elementary schoolers had more experience than most adults.

He still remembered one trip to Tokyo: on the subway, a father was explaining to his second-grade son how to optimize time complexity in greedy algorithms — while suggesting they’d join a real dev team in a few years.

The culture shock Kitahara felt then… was something he never forgot.

It was the first time he truly grasped what an “education gap” meant.

People were not born equal.

Kei answered almost immediately. “Three. Japanese, English, and Chinese.”

Then she added, “Though right now, I can only really read Chinese. My pronunciation still needs work.”

She never lost a written exam. But at Shuchi'in, grades weren’t everything.

They had international exchange events with foreign universities. Presentation skills and communication mattered too.

“You’re already impressive,” Kitahara said sincerely.

Back in middle school, he wasn’t even close to her level.

“R-Really?” Kei flushed slightly.

The Japanese were generally modest by nature.

So when Kitahara complimented her so bluntly, it made her shy.

“Here. For you.”

He reached into the bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out two books: The Kuznetsov Russian Dictionary and 1001 Years of Spanish, handing them to her.

“Try to finish these quickly.”

“Huh?” Kei blinked in confusion.

She didn’t understand what he was getting at.

“I’ll pull some translation gigs for you under my name,” Kitahara explained.

Shops in tourist-heavy districts often needed multilingual product descriptions — but most couldn’t afford professional translators, so they just slapped on English, and called it a day.

It left tourists struggling — relying on gestures or guides.

Phones had built-in translators now, sure… but they were a hassle.

“We’ll split the pay 60/40. You take 60,” he added.

He couldn’t legally hire her — but nothing stopped him from tossing some work her way.

Don’t underestimate Tokyo’s networking king.

Kitahara had long been chummy with most of the shop owners around Bunkyō Ward.

If he vouched for someone, they’d usually give him a shot.

And his connections didn’t stop at Bunkyō.

Across all 23 Tokyo wards, he had ties.

You think he got all those rich ladies’ contact info for nothing?

Still — given his never-lift-a-finger-for-free personality, he wasn’t helping out purely from the goodness of his heart.

“If anyone asks, just say you’re my little sister.”

Funny thing was, standing next to each other, the two did kind of look like siblings.

“Any problem with that?”

Kitahara finished, then waited for Kei’s reply.

When none came, he glanced sideways — and found her staring at him, dumbfounded.

“Not happy with the cut? I can’t go lower than that,” he said flatly.

Sure, she was doing the work — but he was the guarantor.

If anything went wrong, it’d be on him.

And every job she completed, he’d personally double-check.

Translation wasn’t just stringing words together — it required sensitivity to nuance, cultural differences, taboos... It was far more demanding than people thought.

A single misstep could spark religious or ethnic controversy. That wasn’t a risk he took lightly.

“N-No, it’s not the pay…”

A rare flicker of emotion crossed Kei’s usually still expression. Her long lashes fluttered slightly.

“S-Senpai… why are you being so nice to me?” she asked in a soft, cautious voice, eyes fixed on his.

“What do you think a strange guy wants when he’s nice to a pretty girl for no reason?” Kitahara replied with a lazy smirk, his gaze sliding deliberately over her figure.

Kei instinctively clutched her shirt collar and took a step back, eyes wary.

“You’re way cuter like this than when you’re stone-faced.”

Kitahara chuckled, clearly pleased with his prank.

Without waiting for her reaction, he turned and started walking again.

“Just think of it… as me investing in you.”

“...Investing?”

---

T/N: OFFICER THIS MAN YES

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!