Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [34]

Inside the Volkswagen Golf, Kitahara Takeru and the old fisherman were huddled over a toy fishing rod, studying it with solemn intensity.

Their laser focus was so absurd that it made Shirogane Kei — who sat nearby — seriously question if the kiddie toy she'd designed in her game had somehow become a precious antique.

“There’s nothing special about it!” the old man finally declared after a long inspection. “Just a regular toy rod.”

“Could be the beginner’s protection period,” Kitahara said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

Everyone knew fishing had a “newbie grace period.”

First time out? Boom — fish on the hook like magic.

Kitahara had seen it himself: little kids with nothing but a bit of line, tossing it into the water like they were playing — and within seconds, they’d reel in a fish.

It was ridiculous.

Of course, that kind of luck only lasted during the beginner phase.

The second you got hooked on the hobby?

Welcome to hell. Not a fish in sight.

Kitahara was even starting to believe the fish community had a conspiracy: give the newbie a taste of success, hook them in, and boom — another bait-chucker for life.

“You’re fishing for the first time, right?”

Kitahara adjusted his lensless frames, putting on the air of someone who’d seen through the entire game.

The old man perked up.
Ah, no wonder.

Case closed.

“Every newbie gets lucky once. Don’t think that moment will last forever,” he said, handing back the toy rod with the lofty air of a seasoned veteran.

Shirogane Kei’s face was expressionless. “I’m not a newbie. I’ve gone fishing nine times already.”

Kitahara’s brow twitched. “And you caught something every time?”

She nodded. “Pretty much. Though this was my first time landing two at once. Before, I’d only ever gotten one at a time.”

Only one?

Maximum of one?

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No way. No freakin’ way!”

Kitahara refused to believe it.

He had all the proper gear — and still blanked.

Meanwhile, this girl shows up with a literal toy rod and gets a double pull? Every time?

And it wasn’t even a premium model — it was a mass-market plastic version for children.

This was the equivalent of going home and being told, “Sorry, you’ve lost to a kindergartener who hasn’t even weaned off baby formula.”

With just one simple line, Shirogane Kei had single-handedly shattered Kitahara’s composure.

Even the old man went silent.

Why?

Because fishing required focus, okay?

“I’ll prove it next time,” Kei said, a little indignant. “I’ll show you I can do it again.”

What was the big deal? You had hands, you could fish. No need to lie about it.

“Fine. I’ll be waiting.”

Kitahara narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t buying it.

What did she think she was? Born with some Fishing Saint physique?

“Little miss, are you selling that rod?” the old man suddenly asked.

Maybe… just maybe… this thing really was magical.

“It’s not worth much, gramps. You can get one at any toy store,” Kei said honestly. Even if her family was broke, she wasn’t about to scam an old man.

If it were Kitahara in her shoes, he wouldn’t care if it was an old man or an ancient fossil. He was broke — ethics were a luxury.

“No no, I want your rod,” the old man insisted, smiling brightly.

“How about this — I’ll give you 5,000 yen for it. If I actually catch something with it next time, I’ll add another 5,000.”

Five… five thousand?!

Kei’s sapphire-blue eyes lit up like gemstones.

That’s five thousand yen!

“You’re really out here offering that little?” Kitahara gave him a look of pure disdain. Then he turned to Kei. “If you land another fish with that rod next time, I’ll pay 10,000 for it.”

If she was really that good, he’d accept defeat.

“You bumpkin from Hokkaidō trying to outbid me?” The old man looked at Kitahara like he was dirt.

Not to brag, but when it came to money? Everyone else in the room was trash.

“Little miss, if you beat him next time, I’ll give you 50,000 yen,” the old man declared grandly.

“Th-that’s way too—” Kei started, clearly startled.

“I’m in!” Kitahara cut in, cursing under his breath. “You think I’ll lose to an amateur?”

Damn it. Another soft-headed kid.

Who turns down money that falls into their lap?

If you’re not poor, who is?

Kei stared at him in surprise.

Was he… trying to help me?

But he’d turned her down so flatly the last time…

“She’s not one of your plants, is she?”

The old man looked at Kitahara suspiciously. This was starting to feel like a setup.

Kitahara stared at him like he was an idiot.

“If I were scamming you, I wouldn’t just be after 50,000 yen. I’d be after your granddaughter, drain your family dry, and leave no descendants behind.”

The old man nodded approvingly. “That’s true.”

Kitahara: “...You could at least pretend to object?”

Couldn’t he see how the girl’s eyes were starting to look at him differently now?

“But my granddaughter already has someone she likes,” the old man added with a sigh. “You’ve got no chance.”

He actually quite liked Kitahara — handsome, smart, calm, methodical. And when it came to social navigation? The boy was like a butterfly in full bloom — charming young and old alike.

And most importantly? Sharp brain, cold heart.

The more he looked at Kitahara, the more he saw a younger version of himself.

If only he had more than one granddaughter. He’d have introduced them in a heartbeat.

Kitahara scoffed. “What, there’s a goalie, so the ball can’t go in?”

Kei gave him a you’re scum look.

The old man’s admiration, on the other hand, only grew.

This kid’s got the spirit of a true man — a proper prime minister in the making!

No wonder they got along.

“Just drop me here,” Kei said as the car pulled into a narrow alleyway. Turning around would be a pain; she planned to walk the rest of the way.

“You live here?” Kitahara frowned.

The road ahead was narrow — barely a meter and a half wide. The lighting was ancient and flickering. He doubted it even worked properly.

Air conditioning units, electrical boxes, and drainage pipes clung to the walls like ivy vines.

The sanitation was terrible. The pavement was damp and scattered with cigarette butts and convenience store trash. A nearby utility pole had a public safety warning from the Tokyo MPD:

“Beware of purse snatchers when walking at night.”

Kitahara had asked about this area when house-hunting.

He’d heard that in just half a month, there’d been over 15 reported muggings.

Most of the victims were women working in Kabukichō. Alone at night, they’d get approached from behind by someone on a motorbike and have their purses snatched in one swift grab.

If they resisted, they’d get kicked — in the gut or face.

Security in this neighborhood was basically nonexistent. As useful as a dozing doorman.

Even if you reported it, the cops would give you the usual half-assed interview and then vanish.

Which is why some people called Japanese police nothing but “tax-funded thieves.”

“Yes,” Kei replied, still expressionless, showing no embarrassment even when someone saw her living conditions.

But deep down… was she really unaffected?

Kitahara glanced at her hand, subtly clenched inside her sleeve.

He opened the car door.

“I’ll walk you the rest of the way.”

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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!