Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [26]

Click!

8:30 p.m.

With the clear sound of a lock turning, the classroom door slowly opened from the outside.

A beam of stark white light spilled into the darkness.

Hearing it, Katsura Kotonoha lifted her head.

Standing in that light was a clean-cut boy in a white shirt.

The brightness cast a soft glow on his face. His eyes lifted slightly, a gentle smile curving at the corners of his lips.

“Katsura-san, I’ve come to take you home.”

In that moment, Kotonoha could feel her heart clench tight, emotion flooding her body like a rush of warm blood.

...

“This is Mr. Ueda. He helped us open the door,” Kitahara Takeru said, gesturing to the security guard beside him once Kotonoha stepped out of the classroom.

“Thank you very much.”

Kotonoha bowed politely to Ueda Jin.

She’d been standing in the shadows earlier, so Ueda hadn’t seen her clearly. Now that she was in the light, he finally noticed—

Her innocent face was paired with a D-cup figure.

Even if it was just “useless fat,” fat on the chest was far more likely to draw a man’s gaze than fat on the stomach.

Kotonoha had mild androphobia.

Noticing Ueda's eyes lingering on her chest, she trembled slightly.

Takeru caught it. Without a word, he stepped in front of her, blocking the view. “Mr. Ueda, thank you again. Sorry to trouble you.”

Ueda Jin looked away, waving his hand. “It’s part of the job.”

“Well then, we’ll be heading out. Take care, Mr. Ueda.”

“Of course. It’s getting late—get home safe.”

After their goodbyes, Takeru and Kotonoha left together.

Outside the school, the night wind had a chill to it.

A gust hit them, and Kotonoha shivered involuntarily.

Takeru glanced over but quickly turned away, continuing forward as though he’d seen nothing.

Takeru was a meticulous self-serving realist.

If this had been Kasumigaoka Utaha, he might’ve at least pretended to offer his jacket—for the sake of appearances.

After all, she was a walking piggy bank.

For the kind of girl who could spew gold coins, Takeru always treated them like royalty.

That said, with Utaha’s personality, she’d rather freeze than wear any guy’s jacket who wasn’t Aki Tomoya.

But Katsura Kotonoha?

She didn’t drop coins.

So he didn’t even bother pretending.

As far as Takeru was concerned, showing up to help a stranger was already going above and beyond.

It wasn’t his fault she’d gotten locked in.

And besides, she had a boyfriend. Emotional support was his job.

Takeru had zero interest in standing in line behind some guy to play the warm-hearted nice guy.

The two of them walked in silence through the school grounds.

“U-Um…”

Just as they were about to leave Ayanogasaki Academy’s front gates, Kotonoha mustered the courage to speak.

Takeru tilted his head slightly. “What is it?”

Biting her soft lower lip, Kotonoha hesitated, then said, “Th-thank you for helping me today… Watanabe-kun.”

She felt like she had to thank him properly.

If not for him, who knows how long she would’ve been stuck in there?

“‘Watanabe Takeru’ is just a stage name. Just call me Takeru.”

Kotonoha wasn’t on his candidate list for “sponsor training,” so he didn’t bother hiding anything.

With his distinct look and Seijō uniform, anyone who cared to ask would figure out who he was eventually. There was no point keeping secrets.

Just ‘Takeru’? Isn’t that… a bit too intimate? Kotonoha thought, but before she could dwell on it, he added:

“If you really want to thank me, then don’t tell anyone about this.”

“I’d rather my friends didn’t know about the job I do.”

Takeru didn’t think there was anything shameful about being a professional stand-in.

He was just farming points—nothing dishonorable in that.

But saying “there’s no such thing as a low job” was a lie we told kids.

Someone working in government and someone working in nightlife—do you really think society treats them the same?

Takeru’s goal was simple: earn system points from girls, maybe collect some money on the side.

Kotonoha keeping her distance from his regular school life was thanks enough.

He must have his reasons, Kotonoha thought. She nodded. “Alright. I promise.”

Still, she studied him curiously—the same boy she’d glimpsed before on the train.

Sharp features, a gentle expression, hair the color of silver moonlight that framed his face in soft, choppy layers.

His white shirt was impeccably clean, wrinkle-free.

Same uniform as everyone else—but it looked different on him.

He was slender, but stood tall and straight, with the kind of posture that radiated quiet strength. Like nothing could weigh him down.

There wasn’t a trace of shame on his face, no sign of someone doing questionable work—just the youthful energy and confidence of a high school boy.

Her own boyfriend, Itou Makoto, was good-looking too… but compared to this?

He came up short.

They walked on, one in front, one behind, like a pair of lovers taking a stroll after dinner.

Turning the corner, they ran into a filming crew—clearly shooting a street interview or some kind of reality segment.

The female host holding the mic spotted them and lit up.

“Hi there! Do you mind sparing a moment?”

“No. I’m heading home,” Takeru said without breaking stride.

Kotonoha hurried to catch up.

“It’ll only take a second. Just a few questions!” the host insisted, matching their pace.

Takeru couldn’t even be bothered to answer.

“Is this your girlfriend?”

He said nothing.

Kotonoha didn’t respond either.

The host took the silence as confirmation. “When did you two start dating?”

Takeru turned and fixed her with a cold stare.

“I’m a top student at Seijō Gakuen. If you’re thinking about spreading rumors, go ahead—try me.”

The difference between public and private schools wasn’t just teachers or funding.

It was power.

Once, a Seijō student had their part-time pay docked. The student council escalated it, and the principal personally led a legal team to sue the company.

Takeru had been recruited as an honors student.

If someone tried to slander him, he was very confident the school would back him.

The host’s face stiffened.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke.”

Just then, a producer-type rushed over.

“Hey now, a joke’s only funny if both sides are laughing. Did you think that was funny?” Takeru asked coolly.

“I said I was sorry, didn’t I? It’s not like we posted the footage anywhere. What more do you want?”

Apparently, this punk hadn’t expected a teenager to be this uncooperative. His tone grew irritated.

Takeru’s eyes narrowed.

The original owner of his body might’ve been powerless, but he wasn’t.

He didn’t live off talent.

He lived off women. (Loudly.)

Don’t underestimate the power of rich sugar mommies.

He’d already made up his mind: when he got home, he was going to message Hiratsuka-sensei and play the pity card.

If that didn’t work, he’d shamelessly throw himself at Kamikawa Rie.

“Kitahara?”

He turned—and saw Yozakura Hitomi.

Standing beside her stretch Rolls-Royce.

“Landlady,” Takeru said, zipping over without hesitation, “your tenant’s being harassed. Are you going to do something or not?”

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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!