Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [30]

The train rumbled into the station, clattering over the rails, bringing with it a breath of cool wind.

The doors slid open with a hiss.

And with them, a boy’s voice — low, resonant, and magnetic — drifted into the air:
“Congratulations. Your boyfriend’s about to get a girlfriend.”

His words caught the ears of everyone — passengers getting off, passengers getting on — all momentarily stunned.

They turned to look at Kitahara Takeru and Katsura Kotonoha stepping off the train together.

What do you mean, “your boyfriend’s about to get a girlfriend”?

What kind of conversation is that?

Can you not leave us hanging like that?!

“...Huh?”

Kotonoha blinked, processing the line a beat too late. Her face paled in a flash of panic.

“Th-Then what do I do?”

Kitahara’s mouth worked faster than his brain:

“Break up.”

“Why? Isn’t there any way to fix it?”

Kotonoha still held onto hope — this was a relationship worth saving, wasn’t it?

But Kitahara replied coolly, “When you need a jungle gank, it means your solo lane’s already lost.”

“This is all just your perspective, Takeru. You’re not Makoto.”

“You can’t just assume that because you would do something, he would too.”

“What if he hasn’t even cheated? What if he’s just in a bad mood lately?”

Still clinging to denial even with the red flag practically flapping in her face, Kotonoha tried to justify Itou Makoto’s behavior.

Kitahara could only answer with a flat:
“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

He’d met plenty of people like her — the type who wouldn’t turn back even if they slammed into a wall, or maybe would still keep going after slamming into one.

You couldn’t talk sense into them.

Try, and they’d probably turn it around on you —
“Are you just jealous? You don’t want to see me happy?”

Kitahara had no interest in arguing.

Respect other people’s fates. Let go of your savior complex. Stop getting high off your own self-righteousness.

That was his code.

Right now, he just wanted to get this event with Kotonoha done and stop it from blocking his points.

Beep—

Beep—

The two of them tapped out of the station.

From then on, neither of them spoke.

Kotonoha sneaked glances at Kitahara, who was completely absorbed in his phone and hadn’t said a word to her since.

Did I go too far? Is he mad at me?

...She was overthinking it.

Just like how people don’t randomly get mad at strangers, Kitahara wouldn’t bother getting mad at her.

She wasn’t someone special.

He simply didn’t feel like talking.

“This is my house,” Kotonoha finally said.

Thankfully, her home was just a five-minute walk from the station.

It was a mansion — a massive, freestanding private home.

Now, living in a detached house in Japan didn’t always mean someone was rich.
But living in Chiyoda Ward? That was a whole different story.

Chiyoda sat at the heart of Tokyo’s 23 wards, right next to the Imperial Palace East Gardens — the power core of Japan, packed with central government offices and elite institutions.

Only the truly wealthy or well-connected could live there.

“This... this is your house?”

Kitahara stared at the building, then turned to Kotonoha. His Adam’s apple bobbed with an involuntary gulp.

He’d guessed from her mannerisms and speech that her family was well-off — but not this well-off.

Put it this way:
If not for his system, he wouldn’t be born into a place like this. Not in this life.

No amount of effort would ever close the gap.

Not even if he were the main character of some overpowered rags-to-riches webnovel.

Because this was Japan.

“Yes,” Kotonoha nodded softly. Seeing Kitahara frozen on the doorstep, she tilted her head, long violet hair cascading over one shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Takeru?”

Kitahara grit his teeth. “No, seriously — why him?!”

His expression twisted with visible envy.

Kotonoha blinked. “Who?”

“Itou. Ma. Ko. To.”

He spat the name out, syllable by syllable.

Big chest. Long legs. Fair skin. Pretty face. And, on top of that, a hopeless romantic.

She hears her boyfriend might be cheating, and her first reaction isn’t to dump him, or hire someone to kick his ass — no, she’s thinking about how to save the relationship.

How is this fair?

He was sick of feeling jealous.

“Kotonoha-san, what exactly do you like about him?”

Kitahara felt like he’d emptied an entire gas tank and still couldn’t figure it out.

Was he not handsome enough?

Absolutely not the issue.

Not smart enough?

Come on — he got into Seijō from Hokkaidō and ranked third in the national mock exams. He was plenty smart.

Couldn’t provide emotional value? Didn’t know how to treat women?

No way. Just look at how Kasumigaoka Utaha, Sawamura Spencer Eriri, and Hiratsuka Shizuka all willingly spent money on him.

That alone put him ahead of half the guys back home.

So where had he lost?

“Uh… well…”

Kotonoha was genuinely stumped by his question.

She didn’t really know why she liked Makoto.

Back on the train, she noticed him watching her. Then she started noticing him too.

But that was just… mild interest.

She liked him, sure — but not that much.

They’d gotten together mostly because Saionji Sekai kept pushing them toward each other. She had a bit of a crush, and after some prodding, she said yes.

But was that really love?

She wasn’t sure.

“Love… what even is that?”

Kotonoha murmured, more to herself than to Kitahara.

Kitahara thought for a moment. “It’s when your heart stirs at first sight.”

Some say love at first sight is just lust — just being attracted to someone’s looks.

But it wasn’t.

That kind of love was like being struck in the soul, a feeling that couldn’t be faked or copied.

The person you fall for at first glance — you’ll probably love them for a long, long time, even if they’re not perfect.

Kitahara had loved someone once. He’d met girls more beautiful, more elegant since — but none had ever made his heart race like she did.

He hadn’t even seen her face clearly at the time.

“It’s the person you think of when you close your eyes.”

“The one whose absence makes you feel unsettled after just a minute.”

Kitahara spoke, and Kotonoha listened.

The person you think of when you close your eyes…

Kotonoha shut her eyes gently.

She thought she’d picture Makoto — standing on the train, headphones on, one hand gripping the strap.

But the image that appeared instead was—

“Kotonoha-san, I’ve come to walk you home.”

—Kitahara Takeru, standing in the sunlight in his white shirt, smiling softly at her.

Her eyes flew open.

Wh-What the hell? Why did I think of Takeru?!*

Kotonoha was flustered.

They’d only met three times.

Why was he the one who came to mind?

Am I… falling for someone else?

She began to spiral into self-doubt.

“Well?”

Kitahara leaned closer, curious. “Who’d you think of?”

Kotonoha’s heart skipped a beat. She stumbled back a step, glancing away awkwardly.

“O-Of course it was Makoto!”

“Huh. So you really do like him?”

Kitahara was puzzled by her strong reaction but didn’t dwell on it. He simply stamped a mental conclusion on the matter: She likes Itou Makoto.

Kotonoha didn’t look particularly happy about that.

“So what about you, Kitahara-kun?” she asked. “When you close your eyes, who do you think of? Kamikawa-san? Or that landlady — Yozakura-san?”

“Neither.”

Even without closing his eyes, Kitahara knew exactly who it was.

Kotonoha’s voice lifted just a touch. “Neither?”

Not either of them?

Then who?

Could it be… her?

Why am I even thinking that?!

She had a boyfriend. She shouldn’t be thinking this way.

And yet, she couldn’t stop herself.

“Mhm.”

Sensing where this was heading, Kitahara quickly changed the subject.

“Let’s head inside.”

Kotonoha felt a faint pang of disappointment, but she was afraid of where her thoughts might lead if they kept going. So she nodded and led Kitahara into the house.

---

T/N: heh did a full 180 LMAOOO

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!