Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [25]

Kitahara Takeru covered his ears. “Keep it down, would you? It’s not like I have Alzheimer’s.”

“Alz–what now?”

Watanabe Akari blinked those giant eyes of hers—eyes that looked like they were made for a mascara commercial.

Takeru wasn’t about to waste time explaining basic terms. Instead, he offered a polite but clearly strained smile.

“You’re looking down on me, aren’t you? What’s with that fake-ass smile?”

Akari stomped forward, stopping just a step away, head raised, eyes glaring.

She was standing so close that Takeru could clearly catch the scent of her perfume.

Not a bad smell, actually—he didn’t hate it.

The perfume was fine. It was the person wearing it he didn’t want anything to do with—an airheaded, overly made-up, skimpily dressed gyaru with more sass than substance.

“Order number thirty-five, your food is ready.”

Just as he was strategizing how to ditch her, the front counter saved him.

“My food’s ready. Excuse me.”

Takeru nodded politely but distantly to Akari and her two friends, picked up the tray overflowing with food, and walked toward the table where Kashiwagi Nagisa and Shijō Maki were sitting.

From across the restaurant, Takamiya Saki watched. “Is that a date? Judging from their uniforms, they look like Shuchiin students.”

Ōhashi Natsumi squinted in analysis. “Yeah, but which one’s his girlfriend?”

“Hm?”

Saki looked at her in surprise. “Didn’t you say you were super into him after the mixer? You said you’d chase him, didn’t you? Why didn’t you pounce today?”

“It’s not that I liked him. I super-super-super-super liked him,” Natsumi corrected seriously, eyes locked on Takeru like a fangirl in heat.

“I’d love to be his dog.”

Saki gave her the what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you look.

She knew Natsumi dabbled in BDSM circles and might be a bit kinky, but she hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

“Too bad he ignores me.”

Back at the mixer, they’d exchanged contacts.

That same night, Natsumi had started messaging him.

Her messages, however, disappeared into the void.

Takeru hadn’t replied. In fact, he hadn’t even read them.

They’d stayed marked as “unread.”

Which was worse than being left on read. Because that meant he had zero intention of chatting with her at all.

Takeru didn’t reply, but he updated his posts frequently.

Every few days, he’d upload photos of flowers, skies, ocean views—stuff only middle-aged men usually posted. Almost no selfies.

He didn’t block her from seeing them, either.

Maybe he thought of her as no more significant than a pebble on the roadside.

It was then that Natsumi gave up on chasing him.

Even a simp needed a bit of delusion—try a little and maybe I’ll get a taste—but Takeru didn’t even offer that.

“Honestly, I thought he was the kind of guy who’s warm and gentle with everyone,” Saki said, glancing over at him again.

His relaxed, approachable air made him seem friendly with everyone—but in truth, he never got too close, never lost face, and never stepped past the line.

“Star, if he’s your target, I’d suggest giving up.”

Saki noticed Akari’s eyes tracking Takeru like a hawk.

Too rational. Guys like him didn’t make good romantic partners.

“What are you talking about, Saki?! I don’t even like him.”

Watanabe Akari snapped out of her daze, flustered.

“I like Tenshin!”

“I’m just annoyed he never replies to my messages. We know each other, but he acts like I’m invisible.”

If Akari wanted to lie to herself, Saki wasn’t about to argue.

---

Takeru placed the tray down. “Thanks for waiting.”

“You’re really popular, Kitahara-kun,” Nagisa said, smiling sweetly.

“Hmph!” Shijō Maki scoffed. “He just relies on that pretty face of his to trick shallow girls who only care about looks.”

“All flash, no substance.”

So she does have a mean streak, Takeru noted.

She was never like this in their chats.

“Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll get going.”

He’d apologized, bought food—his mission was done. Time to ghost.

“Go on, shoo—mmph!”/“Here, Maki, say ‘ahhh~’”

Just as Maki lifted her hand to shoo him away, Nagisa—fast as lightning—stuffed a spicy chicken wing into her mouth.

Maki’s mouth full, Nagisa turned to Takeru with innocent eyes. “You bought so much, we won’t finish it. Wouldn’t it be a waste? Sit and eat with us.”

Then why did you order so much to begin with?

“I’m good, I’ve already eaten,” Takeru declined. “I really should go.”

He had no desire to sit with clients.

Even though he was confident in his makeup and disguise, what if Maki figured something out?

Takeru was extremely cautious.

He crushed any risk of exposure in the cradle.

Nagisa twirled a strand of hair, pouting. “Kitahara-kun, is that how you apologize?”

Takeru: “?”

“With that kind of attitude, I really don’t think I can forgive you. Might have to talk to the police instead.”

“Wait, hold on! Didn’t you just say—”

“What did I say? You got proof? Anyone hear me say that?”

Nagisa winked at him.

“I am the victim here, remember? I’m sure the security cam caught the whole thing.”

She pointed toward the camera by the entrance.

“You really are a menace.”

Resting her cheeks in both hands, Nagisa beamed. “Changing your story is a girl’s privilege.”

…And that, Takeru did believe.

Just like how girls always ask about your exes and claim not to care—only to start a fight once you answer honestly.

Women are big fat liars.

“So, Miss Kashiwagi—what do you actually want?”

Realizing he had no pressing plans, Takeru sat down across from her.

“You know my name?”

Nagisa tilted her head, studying him with curiosity.

She was pretty sure she never said her full name.

Shit.

Takeru cursed himself internally.

“Didn’t Maki-chan just call you that earlier?” he covered quickly.

Nagisa narrowed her eyes into suspicious slits.

He’s lying.

She and Maki never used surnames. Certainly not full names.

I’ll just hire a private investigator to check him out later.

She didn’t call him out right away, just smiled as if she bought it.

Takeru thought he’d dodged a bullet. His tension eased slightly.

“You’re sweating, Kitahara-kun. Here, have a drink.”

She slid an iced cola toward him.

“Thanks.”

He took a sip.

“So, Kitahara-kun—what school do you go to?”

“Seijō Gakuen.”

Seijō, silver hair, handsome face…

It clicked instantly for Nagisa.

“You’re that guy, right? The one they call ‘the once-in-four-thousand-years beautiful boy.’”

“Please. I beg you. Don’t call me that.”

Takeru wanted to curl up and die every time he heard that nickname.

“Once in four thousand years?” Maki paused, looked him over, and wrinkled her nose.

“Him?”

She admitted he had decent looks…

But compared to Watanabe Takeru, whom she chatted with constantly?

No contest.

Her rating: Inferior to Watanabe.

“I think he’s average at best. Nothing special.”

She’s kind of sweet, actually—trying not to embarrass me too badly.

Takeru wasn’t even mad—he was a little flattered.

After all, every guy knows the ultimate compliment is being called “average-looking” or “rat-faced.”

Nagisa shoved a burger into Maki’s mouth. “So why do people call you that?”

“It started at the school opening ceremony. I got picked to do the freshman speech, but I didn’t have anything prepared, so I asked a teacher for a script from a previous year. Ended up running into the principal.”

“He looked me over and joked, ‘You’re the best-looking student I’ve taught in forty years.’”

“Somehow, that story spread—and the more it spread, the more it got exaggerated. Until it became… what you just said.”

Takeru honestly found the whole thing frustrating.

During the first week of school, people treated him like a zoo exhibit.

Girls from upper grades lingered around his classroom door.

He became public enemy number one among the boys.

Even students from other schools started dropping by just to look at him.

“Pfft!” “Pfft!”

Maki and Nagisa both turned away, shoulders shaking.

“What’s so funny?” Takeru snapped, annoyed.

Even a patient guy had limits.

---

“What’s so funny?”

Watanabe Akari seated diagonally behind Takeru, glared in their direction, even forgetting to lick her ice cream.

He never laughed like that around me.

She was starting to realize—Takeru had a serious double standard.

He treated everyone else one way, and her another.

“See that? She says she doesn’t care about him, and yet she’s glaring like a jealous ex,” Takamiya Saki chuckled.

Her eyes had been glued to him the entire time.

Saki turned to show Ōhashi Natsumi’s current expression—only to catch Natsumi herself staring just as hard, eyes sparkling with lewd intent.

Fingers against her lips, Natsumi whispered, “Shhh. Don’t interrupt—I’m mentally undressing him. Collecting materials for tonight’s dream.”

Saki: “…”

What are you collecting that for?

You’ve never even done it—how are you gonna dream about the final stage?

---

Arisuhama—
High-End Apartment

Clothes were scattered from the living room to the bedroom.

After a ten-minute storm of passion, Saionji Sekai began picking up her clothes from the floor, speaking to the man lying in bed.

“Your phone’s been ringing nonstop. Aren’t you gonna check? What if it’s Katsura?”

“Why bother? It’s always the same: ‘Are you home?’ ‘What’re you doing?’ ‘Here’s what I ate tonight.’ Over and over again. I could recite it by heart.”

Itou Makoto sounded vaguely annoyed.

“She won’t even let me touch her. Treats me like I’m some kind of monster.”

“I’m getting tired of her.”

Sekai froze mid-motion, staring at him in a daze.

Makoto felt… unfamiliar.

She remembered how thrilled he’d been when he first started dating Kotonoha. Like he wanted to show her off to the world.

When had he started changing?

“Sekai, stay tonight. Just sleep here.”

Before she could think further, Makoto pulled her close, whispering sweetly.

He was treating Sekai the way he used to treat Kotonoha.

And Sekai… loved that feeling.

She melted into his arms—and they kissed again, without hesitation.

---

Rrrrring...

In an empty classroom at Ayanogasaki Academy, Katsura Kotonoha tried calling Makoto again.

Over and over.

He never picked up.

Eventually, the phone went straight to voicemail.

Kotonoha’s eyes filled with fear and confusion.

It was now 8 PM.

The school was silent—so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

In the dark classroom, every sense felt heightened.

Her mind began to spiral.

The nighttime chill seeped in, making her shiver.

What do I do...?

She had no idea.

Her boyfriend wouldn’t answer.

Her parents were abroad.

Her sister was on a class trip in Fukushima.

She was completely, utterly alone.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Just as despair was sinking in and she debated calling the police, her phone rang—loud and sharp in the silence.

A number she didn’t recognize.

Makoto...?

She assumed something was wrong with his phone—maybe he borrowed someone else’s.

She answered without hesitation.

“Makoto? Is that you?”

A moment of silence. Then, a deep, magnetic voice that pierced through the quiet like a knife:

“No.”

“Good evening, Miss Katsura. I’m the stand-in boyfriend you requested—Takeru.”

“I waited for you at our arranged meeting spot for a while, but you never showed. Is everything alright?”

Having just slipped away from Shijō Maki and Kashiwagi Nagisa, Kitahara Takeru walked home while subtly laying the groundwork to cancel the appointment.

If he didn’t officially complete the date, the system wouldn’t log it.

“I... I’m locked in,” she whispered.

“…Huh?”

---

T/N: tsk digusting man

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!