Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [24]

It wasn’t a weekend, nor was there any special event, yet the McDonald’s inside Tokyo’s Rokuten Shopping Center was unusually packed.

“He’s so good-looking.”

“Do you think he’s a model or an idol?”

“Wait, he’s wearing a school uniform. Anyone know which high school he’s from?”

Girls from different schools whispered among themselves, sneaking glances at the silver-haired boy sitting by the window in a clean, white dress shirt.

The golden sunlight of dusk poured greedily through the glass, brushing his fair, handsome face with a warm glow, as though gilding him with soft light.

Did I just get ghosted?

Kitahara Takeru absentmindedly munched on fries, one hand supporting his chin as he gazed up at the sky.

Clouds drifted by, tinged a gentle pink by the sunset.

The sun dipped slowly below the horizon. Streetlights flickered on, dotting the cityscape with warm light.

“So pretty,” he murmured.

It felt like a moment worth capturing.

He pulled out the Nikon D610 from his bag.

Click!

He snapped several shots of the vanishing sun.

“Damn, I’m good. I could totally be a professional photographer.”

Looking at the raw images on his screen, Takeru felt genuinely satisfied with the shots. He let himself admire his work for a moment, then packed up, finished the last of his fries, and stood to leave.

Now that I think about it, this is the first time someone’s flaked on me, he thought. Though really, he didn’t mind.

He hadn’t worn makeup today.

He’d never planned for Katsura Kotonoha to become a long-term client.

Even if he had no bottom line, he wasn’t going to play stand-in for a girl who already had a boyfriend.

Whether they’d fought, had a misunderstanding, or she was just acting on impulse—he had no intention of stepping in.

Some things were a matter of principle.

“Wumeng Mountain connects to distant peaks, moonlight pours down the waterfall beach—can anyone tell me...”

Takeru had just reached for the door when his phone rang.

It was an unfamiliar number. He instinctively reached to hang up.

In this life, his parents had died young, and his relatives had never cared for him.

An orphan with no family—he really did have a textbook webnovel protagonist background.

Am I in some webnovel written by a total hack?

He’d thought about that before.

And not a top author’s protagonist either. No secret techniques, no Devil Fruit powers, no psychic abilities.

Clearly just a regular slice-of-life world.

He had none of the elements that made a main character go viral.

To his knowledge, no one had ever achieved enlightenment by writing fanfiction.

Especially not in a romcom.

The body’s original owner had barely scraped by—living off a modest inheritance, welfare benefits, and getting kicked around by indifferent relatives—until he finally made it to high school.

And then… suddenly dropped dead.

Takeru’s finger hovered over the hang-up button when, without warning, the unsaved number transformed on screen into: Katsura Kotonoha.

As if the number had always been saved. Like the blank digits from a moment ago had been a trick of his eyes.

It was something straight out of a horror movie.

Old him might’ve panicked, hurled the phone across the room, and curled up under the covers.

But not anymore.

He was now Kitahara Takeru.

His first instinct? This is the system’s doing.

That damn system. Trying to spook me now?

Takeru swore, one day he’d throw on a pair of Chelsea boots and punt that bastard system right in the ass.

Still staring at the screen, his mind wandered—and he didn’t notice the door swinging open from the outside.

His hand… landed squarely on someone’s neck.

From any angle, it looked like he was choking her.

“Ah!”

The soft texture beneath his palm, paired with a startled shriek, snapped him to attention.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

He looked up to find Shijō Maki glaring at him, fury in her eyes.

And right under his hand, a cute girl with short, ear-length hair blushed, clearly flustered.

[Target Identified: Kashiwagi Nagisa]
[Age: 16]
[Intelligence: 7]
[Charm: 8]
[Stamina: 3]
[Origin: Kaguya-sama: Love is War]
[Boyfriend: Tanuma Tsubasa]
[Eligible for Dating]

Are you kidding me, system? (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

Stop giving me girls who already have boyfriends, okay?

At this point, he didn’t have a “stand-in” system—it was a homewrecker simulator. Or maybe even a "scumbag patch."

“I’m so sorry, I spaced out.”

Takeru quickly moved his hand, bowed, and apologized in one smooth motion.

It was his fault, after all.

If the situation were reversed—if someone touched his friend’s face like that... Eh, he’d probably tell them not to make a big deal of it. (¬‿¬)

“Nagisa, are you alright?”

Shijō Maki ignored Takeru and turned to check on her friend.

“I-I’m okay!”

Kashiwagi Nagisa waved her hands awkwardly, then glanced at Takeru, hand subconsciously brushing her neck.

It still felt warm where his hand had been.

His hand… is really nice.

Her eyes drifted to it.

His fingers were sculpted—long, refined, each joint elegant and precise, striking the perfect balance between grace and strength.

I wonder what it would feel like if he really grabbed me…

The thought came unbidden. And dangerous.

She did have a thing for dominant guys.

After all, she’d fallen for Tsubasa after one wall slam.

No, no, what are you thinking?! You have a boyfriend!

Realizing how far her thoughts had gone, Nagisa shook her head furiously.

Meanwhile, Maki was still in full fury mode, hands on her hips, scolding Takeru.

“You lay your dirty hands on a girl you just met—what are you, some pervy little mutt? You trying to get arrested?!”

“You’ve got a decent face, but your behavior’s trash.”

“You’re the reason Tokyo’s full of guys foreign tourists think are sleazy!”

Of course, she hadn’t recognized him at all.

Not as her dating stand-in. Not as her private venting partner. Not as Watanabe Takeru.

She was already thinking about texting "Watanabe" to complain about this incident.

Lately, every time she saw Nagisa with Tsubasa, she ended up messaging him.

And Takeru always played along.

He replied instantly, offered cheesy advice, and listened with the patience of a monk.

He could probably call himself a “Modern Woman’s Emotional Support Coach” at this point.

Honestly, he should go monetize this back home.

Ladies, just hand me your money. I’ll guard your hearts.

Shijō Maki now considered him one of her closest friends—her third real one, in fact.

But only in private.

Her closeness was with Watanabe Takeru—not Kitahara Takeru.

Even with him standing right in front of her, she had no idea.

And that was exactly how Takeru wanted it.

He’d said it before: Work is work. Life is life. Keep it separate.

Besides, if she ever found out Watanabe and Kitahara were the same person… he didn’t even want to imagine the fallout.

“Okay, Maki. That’s enough.”

Nagisa tugged on her friend’s sleeve. She knew Maki too well.

Push her and she backs down. Back down and she pushes harder.

She was all bark, and the bark was loudest at home.

“If you treat us to McDonald’s, I’ll forgive you!”

That was directed at Takeru.

To be honest, she didn’t really mind being touched.

Then again… only because Takeru was good-looking.

If it had been some oily, balding middle-aged creep? Different story.

Which was why—while looks might not be everything—you couldn’t afford to be without them.

“Sure.”

As soon as he realized this could be solved with money, Takeru relaxed.

He’d been worried Maki would dig deeper.

If she ever found out he was Watanabe, she’d never forgive him. He might actually have to flee the country.

“Why should he pay?” Maki grumbled.

She was the Shijō family’s daughter. Did she really need to scam him for a few fries?

Still, since Nagisa said it was fine, she let it go.

The three of them walked into McDonald’s together.

Well, technically, Takeru hadn’t left.

Crisis resolved—but Kotonoha’s call had already disconnected.

And it never rang again.

I’ll call her back later, Takeru thought, unfazed.

It could wait.

Probably out of spite, Maki ordered a ridiculous amount of food.

Nagisa had to tug on her again to make her stop.

The two girls found a seat. Takeru stayed in line.

He could’ve just sat and waited for the food to be delivered.

But sitting with the two of them? A bit too awkward.

They barely knew each other.

“Why’s it so crowded today? Wait—is today the ice cream double scoop discount?”

“Awesome! I want chocolate and cocoa!”

…Aren’t those both chocolate?

What’s the difference?

Takeru overheard the girls behind him chatting.

“If you eat too much, you’ll gain weight, Akari.”

“Don’t worry. My fat is well-behaved—it only goes where it’s supposed to. I’ll never get a belly, even if I stuff myself.”

“Mm-hmm~ Seriously, Akari, your figure is amazing!”

“Wait—did your size go up again?”

“Probably not?”

“I don’t believe you. Lemme check~”

“Ahh! Stop it, you perv!”

At first, Takeru ignored it.

But the more he listened, the more something felt… off.

Why does that voice sound so familiar?

He turned—and locked eyes with Watanabe Akari… just as someone was groping her chest.

“…”

“…”

They stared at each other for two full seconds.

Long enough to recognize each other.

Takeru was the first to look away, smoothly turning his head as though nothing had happened.

Tokyo really is too damn small.

He was already bumping into this many familiar faces.

He had a sinking feeling. If he kept taking these stand-in jobs, it was only a matter of time before his girlfriend said:

“I went out to buy pads and bumped into seven of your sugar mommies.”

He tried to pretend he didn’t know her.

But Akari wasn’t having it.

He. Just. Ignored. Me?!

Not “didn’t see.” Not “too far away.”

She’d caught his eyes. From barely a meter away.

And he just turned away.

Not couldn’t recognize—wouldn’t.

Does he hate me that much?

Every time he saw her, he acted like she didn’t exist.

Back at the mixer, he’d looked at her like she was the moon.

Now?

“You looked right at me! Why are you ignoring me?!”

She grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

Takeru hesitated—then gave her the most half-hearted greeting in existence.

“Hey… ( ´ ▽ ` )ノノ?”

Akari’s rage intensified.

“Hey, my ass!”

Not happy with that?

Takeru plastered on a fake smile.

“Wow, what a coincidence. You guys are here too?”

“Kitahara. Takeru.”

Akari enunciated each syllable like a threat.

So his name is Kitahara Takeru.

That was what every girl in the McDonald’s who’d been eyeing him thought.

Kitahara Takeru… what a nice name, Nagisa mused.

Shijō Maki blinked in surprise.

Wait… his name is Takeru too?

---

T/N: no... poor girl

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!