Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [7]

“Man, Japanese high schoolers really live colorful lives…”

Watching Ōtani Shōta and Tanaka Kōta blending effortlessly into a circle of gyaru girls, Kitahara Takeru couldn't help but feel their lives looked way more relaxed than back home.

In contrast, high schoolers in China had only one flavor of life: never-ending test papers, relentless cram sessions, and a giant countdown on the blackboard inching closer to gaokao with every passing day.

“Kitahara-kun, you’re not singing?”

Kitagawa Marin had just finished a song and made her way over to him.

Takeru smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know how to sing.”

Technically, that was a lie. He did know how to sing—and pretty well, too.

In his previous life, he had been a short-form video heartthrob, an indie singer, a beauty influencer, and a livestream sales anchor all rolled into one.

Sure, his university major had nothing to do with digital media. But everyone knew your degree and your career were often miles apart.

Takeru wouldn’t claim to be some vocal powerhouse, but he was definitely above average. The only issue? He only knew international songs, not Japanese ones.

J-dramas had never gained the traction that K-dramas did in China, their films didn’t compare to Hollywood, and while anime was Japan’s biggest cultural export—Takeru didn’t watch it. The only Japanese singer he recognized was Kenshi Yonezu.

His song “LOSER” had gone viral back then, a true breakout hit.

Takeru remembered that phase—half his social circle had been playing that song on loop. That was how he’d learned Yonezu’s name.

Even then, he often accidentally called him Tianjin Wizard.

“I see~” Marin twirled a strand of coral-pink hair between her fingers, resting her chin on one hand. “Your speaking voice is so nice—I thought you’d be a good singer too.”

“And where did that logic come from?” he chuckled. “Just because someone sounds good talking doesn’t mean they can sing.”

He knew a girl online who had the most divine voice—mature, cutesy, high-pitched—whatever you wanted, she could pull it off.

But the moment she started singing?

Well…

Let’s just say it sounded like Zhang Fei and Li Kui riding a square-wheeled bicycle through a desert while holding hands.

After so much talking, Takeru’s throat felt dry. He pulled down his mask and took a sip of orange juice from the cup nearby.

It was only then that Kitagawa Marin got a full look at the face beneath his mask.

That high, elegant nose bridge formed a perfect slope from his forehead to the tip, like the graceful arc of a mountaintop—poised, dignified. It matched his deep-set gaze perfectly.

His lips were sharply defined with natural lines, smooth and expressive. When they curled into a smile, they radiated a quiet warmth, like the first rays of morning sun.

His long lashes drooped slightly. Under the room’s mellow golden light, his features looked almost unreal.

He’s really... beautiful.

Even Marin, who normally wasn’t too fazed by looks, had to admit: he was very handsome.

He had that kind of appeal—both in appearance and aura—that made people stop and stare. Like the boy in the next class who sat by the window, the one girls would find excuses to walk by just to sneak a glance.

“Want a sip?” Takeru noticed Marin staring and playfully wiggled his cup.

Before she could answer, Ōhashi Natsumi suddenly shouted, “Kitahara’s so hot!”

Watanabe Akari, too, momentarily blanked out.

She hadn’t expected him to be this good-looking.

It caught her completely off guard.

“Just an average face, nothing special,” Takeru replied modestly, casually flexing his humility with a tiny flourish of faux modesty.

“If that’s average, what does that make the rest of us?” said Ōtani, frowning. He didn’t get the reference, but he could hear the humblebrag loud and clear.

“Hideous?” Tanaka Kōta deadpanned.

“Kitahara-kun, do you have a girlfriend?” Ōhashi Natsumi suddenly stood up and plopped down right next to him.

“Not at the moment.”

If we’re not counting his past life, he really didn’t.

“Eh~ Why not? Did you just break up? Still nursing a broken heart?” Natsumi leaned in, teasing.

Takamiya Saki smirked. “Why so curious, Natsumi? Don’t tell me you’ve got your eye on Kitahara-kun?”

“Can’t I?” she said boldly. “He’s so handsome—it’s totally normal to like him!”

“What, no one in Seijō Gakuen has a crush on him already?”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Ōtani’s expression twisted with jealousy.

“You kidding? He gets so many confession letters stuffed in his shoe locker every week, you could fill an entire cabinet with them,” he grumbled.

Tanaka added through clenched teeth, “Different girls bring him lunch every day. On Valentine’s, he got so many chocolates he hasn’t even finished eating them all.”

Takeru raised his hand quickly. “Please don’t bring that up. I don’t want to relive that trauma.”

Last Valentine’s, he’d received almost ninety boxes of chocolate. Just returning the favor cost him over 100,000 yen.

Total loss.

He should’ve known better than to accept them all.

But having taken the gifts, rejecting them afterward felt... off.

“Hahahaha! That’s what you get for not turning anyone down!”

“You total people-pleaser. You deserved it!”

Tanaka and Ōtani, clearly remembering his struggle with return gifts, burst into laughter.

“Then... Kitahara-kun, would you consider me?” Ōhashi Natsumi shyly pointed to herself, but not too shyly.

That’s gyaru confidence for you.

“Wow, Natsumi, you’re bold,” Takamiya Saki teased.

“Say yes~”

“Say yes!”

Tanaka and Ōtani were the first to egg him on.

No one wanted Takeru to get a girlfriend more than those two. If he said yes to Natsumi, they might finally have a shot with Marin or Akari.

Takeru knew what they were thinking—but didn’t get why.

“Sorry. I don’t plan on dating before I graduate.”

He calmly scanned Natsumi from head to toe.

Half-unbuttoned collar, deep cleavage on display, skirt short enough to flash her panties with the slightest bend…

Yeah, no.

If other guys didn’t mind their girlfriends dressing like that for the benefit of their buddies, fine. But his girlfriend?

Absolutely not.

Takeru had standards.

Even if he were to find a girlfriend, he’d never choose this type.

In fact, he’d never consider any of the girls flagged by the system as potential romantic or marriage candidates.

He refused to be anyone’s second-best.

He had options.

Why shouldn’t he hold out for better?

---

T/N: hmmmm true

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!