On a gloomy Saturday afternoon, the sky looked as if it could rain at any moment.
Since Narii was around, Takashi didn't have to squeeze into a crowded train today. Instead, he was riding in her usual mode of transport—a Rolls-Royce Cullinan.
A luxury car he was born without, and one he could never hope to own in this lifetime.
Leaning against the seat inside the Cullinan, Takashi propped his cheek on his hand by the window, listening to Narii's words.
Yet, his thoughts unintentionally drifted back to his childhood.
In his past life, his family was well-off but not exactly rich.
But as a child, happiness came easily. A single green tongue candy, a pack of Weilong spicy strips, and he could stay happy for hours.
Back in elementary school, there was a classmate whose father was in construction and was filthy rich.
One time during a parent-teacher meeting, his father drove up in a Range Rover.
At the time, Takashi was too young to recognize car brands. He only knew the car looked powerful, so he kept staring at it.
That classmate noticed and casually said something that Takashi would never forget for the rest of his life.
"Stop looking. You'll never afford one in your lifetime."
Adults tend to mask their malice, but children rarely hide their thoughts. And since that classmate was spoiled rotten, his words were even more unfiltered.
But precisely because they were unfiltered, they cut even deeper.
At that moment, Takashi silently vowed in his heart that he would one day buy that car for himself.
Yet after so many years of effort, he realized—damn it—that kid was right.
He really couldn't afford it.
He had spent half his life struggling to catch a glimpse of the faint light atop a hundred-story skyscraper, only to realize that the crying baby at the top already owned it.
Narii's loud voice yanked him out of his thoughts.
Takashi blinked. "What?"
"We're here! I've been calling you forever, and you didn't respond." Narii puffed up her cheeks in frustration.
"Sorry, I was lost in thought."
Takashi gave her an apologetic smile.
"What were you thinking about? Tell me."
Narii leaned in curiously.
Opening the car door, Takashi stepped out and stretched lazily. "Thinking about how to get rich."
If he only cared about money, he could just dump all his points into cash.
But to Takashi, that would be the dumbest move.
Compared to money, the skills that refreshed at random intervals were far more valuable.
Besides, just having money only makes you a fat, juicy target.
He wanted wealth, but he also wanted power.
"Ahem. Actually, I'm quite rich, you know. Maybe you should consider it." Narii feigned modesty while making not-so-subtle hints.
"Next time, for sure."
Narii's face lit up, then she turned around, walking backward while holding out her phone like a microphone to Takashi.
"Excuse me, handsome! I have an amazing offer here. Just nod and say, 'I do,' and you can become a CEO, marry a rich and beautiful wife, and reach the peak of your life!"
"This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Don't miss out!"
Before Takashi could even open his mouth, Narii added, "Come on, you promised next time for sure."
Takashi chuckled. "I said 'next time for sure,' but I never said I'd definitely agree. Can't it mean I'll definitely refuse?"
Narii stopped in her tracks, hands on her hips, glaring at him.
"Why do you keep rejecting me? Am I not pretty enough? Or not rich enough?"
Because true feelings change too easily.
Takashi never doubted sincerity—but sincerity was fleeting.
After his first love ended, he had dated others, and there were girls who had loved him dearly.
He would never forget the girl who once looked at him with utter disgust and said, "Please, just leave me alone."
That same girl had, long ago, once asked him nervously, "You won't ever leave me, right?"
When people make vows, they truly mean them. But when they break those vows, they wonder why anyone ever believed in them in the first place.
Narii really liked him right now.
But what about a year from now? Three years? Ten years?
Takashi didn't dare to bet on that.
And he certainly wasn't going to gamble his future on it.
After thinking for a moment, he decided to just be blunt. Maybe then she would give up.
"Because you're not my type."
Narii wasn't convinced. "Then tell me—what's your type?"
"My standards aren't high. Long black hair, phoenix eyes, swan-like neck, slim waist, toned abs, peach-shaped hips, legs like champagne flutes… Pretty simple, right?"
Takashi went all in with a high-end wishlist.
Narii looked herself up and down—then suddenly lifted her chin smugly. "Are you sure you're not describing me?"
He scrutinized her carefully—only to realize she actually checked all the boxes.
"Well? Just admit it—you like me." Narii elbowed him, smirking mischievously.
Takashi took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and as if detonating a bomb, blurted out, "Fine! I'll say it! The person I like is Shinomiya Kaguya!"
…Except, he didn't like Kaguya at all.
He hadn't even met her before, let alone liked her.
He just needed a shield right now.
And this shield couldn't be chosen carelessly.
First, the person had to have a prestigious background—not inferior to Narii's family.
Second, she had to be beautiful, elegant, and definitely not inferior to Narii in any way.
Third, she couldn't be one of the girls already around him.
Taking all these factors into account, Kaguya was the only name that came to mind.
Of course, he would've loved to throw Nagisa under the bus instead.
But he was afraid she'd actually self-destruct.
Narii's expression darkened, her eyes flashing with what looked like murderous intent as she stared at Takashi.
Her intense gaze sent chills down his spine, making him subconsciously take half a step back.
…She wasn't about to become a yandere over this, was she?
Great. First, he had already pissed off the Kashiwagi family. Now he had also offended Narii.
Takashi was fully prepared to activate his ultimate survival move—dropping to his knees in a desperate plea for mercy.
"I bet you're feeling pretty smug right now."
Narii's cold eyes stayed locked on him.
"Huh?" Takashi blinked.
…Why did it feel like she wasn't talking to him?
A soft, emotionless voice rang out from behind him.
Judging by the voice, it was a girl.
No… No way. Not possible.
Cold sweat slid down Takashi's forehead.
"Oh, come on, stop pretending. You were standing there the whole time—you heard everything, didn't you?"
Narii stared straight at the girl behind Takashi—jet-black hair, crimson eyes, a white dress cinched at the waist, her graceful posture exuding elegance.
The very person he had just "confessed" to—Shinomiya Kaguya.
What does it feel like to have your fake confession overheard by the actual person?
Takashi wanted to die.
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