It was mid-May, and the summer cicadas were singing at full volume.
Heat shimmered above the asphalt, distorting the air in waves.
The streets in the afternoon echoed with cicada cries and the sound of passing cars, with barely a pedestrian in sight.
Unless you had a bond forged in life-or-death, no one would willingly step outside during the hottest time of day.
"Water!"
On the air-conditioned bus, a girl with long black hair resting past her shoulders held a copy of The Dancing Girl of Izu in her hands. She looked up, stretching her slender neck, sore from reading too long, and addressed the short-haired boy beside her with oversized round glasses.
Kitahara Takeru, who had nearly dozed off, jolted awake at her voice and pinched his thigh hard.
The pain helped him shake off the drowsiness. After clearing his head, he quickly reached into his sling bag and pulled out a thermos. Beaming, he held it out to her. "Here you go, Utaha-senpai."
Kasumigaoka Utaha stared at the boy who looked—uncannily—about eighty percent like Aki Tomoya, smiling at her with that same innocent expression. She momentarily blanked out.
But the smile faded from her face just as quickly. "Aki wouldn't smile like that."
Takeru lowered his eyes meekly. "Sorry. It won't happen again."
Utaha didn't look at his expression. She was afraid that if she kept staring at that too-familiar face, she might soften.
Taking the thermos from him, Utaha absentmindedly took a sip, but her brow furrowed almost instantly.
Takeru had been watching her carefully. Seeing her frown, he immediately explained, "You've been holding your stomach a lot lately, so I figured your period might've started. I made some brown sugar water for you."
Utaha looked down at the dark liquid in the thermos. Her face remained blank, but her feelings were a tangled mess.
She had met Kitahara Takeru on the day she confessed to Aki Tomoya—and got rejected.
It had been snowing heavily.
It was her first time confessing to a boy, and being turned down had left her in a daze. On the way home, she nearly got hit by a car while crossing the street without watching the lights.
It was Takeru who had reached out and pulled her back just in time.
Honestly, the first time she saw him, she nearly mistook him for Aki.
Same hairstyle. Same glasses. Even the voice was eerily similar.
Until he shoved a flyer into her hands.
"Utaha-senpai, have you heard of stand-in romance?"
"....."
Hiss—
The hiss of the bus doors opening at the rear snapped Utaha out of her memory. A wave of heat rushed in. She stood and got off the bus.
Takeru followed, both hands weighed down with shopping bags, trailing behind her obediently.
Once they were off, he quickly shifted all the bags to one hand and pulled a sun umbrella from his bag, opening it over Utaha with the practiced grace of a man well-trained in the "Way of the Boyfriend."
Utaha lifted her gaze, her wine-red eyes locking onto Takeru. "Takeru, you know I have feelings for someone else."
Back when they had met, she didn't think much of the coincidence.
But the more she reflected on it, the more suspicious it seemed.
He appeared at her most vulnerable moment—heartbroken, devastated—bearing a face almost identical to Aki's, dressed similarly, speaking in the same tone. It was too perfect.
Could there really be coincidences like that in this world?
She was convinced. Takeru had to be someone who'd been secretly watching her from afar.
He must have studied Aki's style—his look, his mannerisms—and then orchestrated their "chance" encounter.
Renting himself out as a boyfriend? Just an excuse to get close. A tactic to catch her attention.
Otherwise, how else could he know her so well? Even the timing of her period?
He definitely has feelings for me, Utaha thought with certainty.
She had confidence in her appearance.
Did people not realize the prestige of a leading lady?
Among all the female leads in novels, she alone carried nearly half the allure.
"You're just a stand-in. Do you understand that?"
Back when she first sought Takeru out, it was simply to stare at that face—so achingly close to Aki Tomoya's.
But gradually, she came to enjoy his meticulous care and his gentle, accommodating nature.
He knew what she liked.
When they went out the next day, he would have everything planned in advance.
Most importantly, his eyes never wandered. From beginning to end, he only had eyes for her.
It felt like she was the one Aki had truly chosen.
Like the one who had been rejected that day… wasn't her.
She enjoyed Takeru's gaze. But she also knew she only saw him as a substitute.
To keep him from getting the wrong idea, she decided to make things clear in advance.
"Senpai, I know I'm just a stand-in. You don't need to remind me."
Takeru lowered his head slightly. His shoulders trembled faintly. His voice was rough, as if squeezed from the depths of his throat.
Seeing how upset he was, Utaha regretted the harshness of her words. Her lips parted as if to say something, but in the end, she said nothing. She simply pulled out her phone and transferred him 100,000 yen.
She really didn't know how to comfort people. And she couldn't bring herself to apologize. So she just sent money.
Hearing the notification chime from her transfer, Takeru's lips curled slightly—but when he looked up again, his eyes were tinged red. "Senpai, let me walk you home."
Utaha gave a small nod. "Mm."
The rest of the way, neither of them said a word.
Takeru, who usually chattered non-stop when they were together, was now completely silent. Utaha wasn't used to it.
Still, she understood.
If she had been rejected by someone she liked, she wouldn't be in the best mood either.
Hope he gets over it soon.
She stole a glance at him as she thought this.
When they arrived, Takeru handed her the shopping bags.
"Thanks."
Utaha took them. Just as she turned to leave, he called out again.
"Senpai!"
"Mm?"
She looked back.
The summer breeze lifted her silky hair, making it sway like willow branches.
"No matter whether you need me or not—if you do, I'll always be here."
Takeru's face was full of stubborn resolve, like a loyal puppy who refused to give up, even after being clearly rejected by his goddess.
Utaha's expression wavered at his words.
After a long pause, she turned away again, leaving only a simple: "Suit yourself."
As he watched her graceful figure disappear into the house, Takeru's smile faded like snow under the sun, leaving only cold indifference.
[Mission complete. Calculating rewards…]
[You have received: 5000 points.]
[Date history: Kasumigaoka Utaha · 9 times]
At the sound of the system notification, Takeru turned and left without hesitation.
He walked all the way to a 24-hour convenience store near Utaha's place and slipped inside.
As soon as he entered, the young girl behind the register greeted him with a cheerful smile.
"Welcome!"
"Can I use your bathroom?"
It wasn't until he arrived in Japan that Takeru discovered convenience stores had restrooms.
"Of course! Straight to the back, then take a left."
"Thanks."
With a polite nod, Takeru made his way inside. In the restroom, he took off his glasses, pulled off the wig and mesh cap, revealing a head of silver-white hair.
He wiped away his makeup with cleansing oil. When he raised his head again, the mirror reflected a boy with sharp features: thin lips, a prominent nose, deep-set eyes, and a clean jawline with a hint of mixed heritage.
A black stud pierced his left ear.
Under the harsh lights, his pale skin looked almost corpse-like—whiter than a friend who'd been dead a month.
Unlike the "glasses-bound" charm of his Aki Tomoya disguise—the gentle, delicate type found in anime—Takeru's real appearance was strikingly wild, a sharp and untamed beauty. He looked fierce, almost like the "wolfdog" types girls were obsessed with these days.
Staring at the face of a natural school delinquent, he let out a long sigh. "Sigh…"
It had been nearly half a year since he'd found himself in this world, and it still didn't feel real.
He suspected it was just his brain's frontal lobe firing off in his final moments, a long dream packed into a few seconds before death.
How else could he explain this "system" nonsense?
For that matter, he didn't even know how he'd died.
He didn't smoke, didn't drink, wasn't into anime, didn't play Genshin, always slept before 11, and didn't have beef with anyone. His only hobby was reading angsty web novels, relishing the torment and struggle of tragic protagonists for some twisted sense of emotional catharsis.
Okay, maybe he was a little messed up in the head—but not enough to deserve transmigration.
Weren't isekai protagonists supposed to be the kind with dead parents, no friends, calling every anime girl "wife," spewing filthy jokes online, acting like dating coaches despite never touching a girl in real life?
Bzzz bzzz bzzz—
Lost in thought, Takeru was startled by the phone vibrating in his pocket.
He checked the caller ID and instinctively held the phone away before answering.
"Takeru! Where the hell are you? You promised you'd come to the mixer tonight! Don't tell me you're bailing again? Bastard, if you ghost us this time, we're done!!!"
The voice on the other end fired off like a machine gun—fast, loud, and relentless.
He didn't even need to put the phone on speaker.
Takeru waited patiently for the rant to end, then spoke calmly. "Just finished work. I'm heading over now. I won't miss it."
"You'd better not!"
After hanging up, Takeru packed away his wig, remover, glasses, and other gear, slung his bag over his shoulder, and exited the restroom.
Before leaving, he bought a pack of gum.
When he approached the counter, the girl straightened up reflexively.
Beep— She scanned the gum without looking up, then flashed a sweet, dazzling smile. "498 yen~"
Takeru handed her a 500-yen coin.
Taking the 2-yen change, he said quietly, "Thanks."
"Huh?" The girl blinked, confused.
Thanks?
Do I… know him?
On the JR Keiyō Line back to Tokyo, Takeru opened his system panel.
The buttons for [Status] and [Store] were glowing.
He mentally selected [Status], and it opened.
Name: Kitahara Takeru
Age: 16
Intelligence: 7
Charm: 9
Stamina: 5
Items: None
Skills: Master-level Makeup
Passives: Neat Handwriting
Title: None
Points: 95,000
Date Record: Kasumigaoka Utaha · 9, Sawamura Spencer Eriri · 7, Hiratsuka Shizuka · 3
Money: ¥1,231,142
With 5 as the average stat, Takeru figured he was doing pretty well as a human being.
Next, he tapped into the [Store].
Currency Exchange: ¥100 = 1 point
Attributes: +1 Intelligence / Charm / Stamina = 100,000 points
Skills:
Beginner Photoshop – 100 pts
Proficient Cooking – 1,000 pts
Expert Writing – 10,000 pts
Master Fishing – 100,000 pts
God-tier Meditation Combat – 1,000,000 pts
Passives:
Sword Proficiency – 10,000 pts
Items:
"Refined Scumbag" Glasses – 1,000 pts
Shuchiin Academy Uniform – 100 pts
Soubu High School Uniform – 100 pts
(Next refresh in: 151h 46m 53s)
He could probably think about attribute upgrades or master skills later.
God-tier skills? Those were strictly daydream material.
If only I had more "tools"… just like Kasumigaoka Utaha.
Takeru really did like Utaha.
She saw the slightest sign of sadness from him and immediately assumed he was madly in love—then just threw money at him.
Hilarious.
As if he'd ever go crazy over a girl.
He wasn't some tragic second male lead from a melodrama.
If anything, he was the protagonist.
Kitahara Takeru—never anyone's stand-in.
---
T/N: why am i doing this to myself... AND can... can i be one of his tools? I HAVE MONEY!!! if this TL is already being done... then uhhhh oopsies i didnt check :3