From the reckless biker gangs of the Showa era to the present-day streets and alleys, riders can be seen everywhere, from the elderly to the young.
Motorcycles in Japan have long surpassed the definition of mere transportation and have formed their own unique culture.
"Sir, we'll notify you once your bike is ready."
At the bike shop, Narii stood with her arms crossed, her face looking as if someone owed her money and refused to pay it back.
However, judging by the faint upward curl at the corner of her lips, it seemed like she wasn't actually in as bad a mood as she appeared.
On the other hand, Takashi looked somewhat dazed.
He still couldn't figure out how, before stepping into the shop, he had planned to buy a bike within a 400,000 yen budget.
But under Narii's constant persuasion—"Just add a little more!" on one side and "Why not increase the budget a bit~" on the other—he ended up paying 749,000 yen for a CBR250RR, a dream bike for small-displacement track racing.
Had he not pulled out his wallet in time, he feared he might have emptied his entire savings for an R1.
Truly, buying a bike with a friend's help is a mistake.
Narii was even more persuasive than the salespeople.
But then again, this was the curse of all engine enthusiasts.
In his previous life, Takashi had gone through the same ordeal. Initially, he had planned to buy a simple commuter car for under a million yen.
But after browsing a few models and feeling dissatisfied, he decided to increase the budget for a Xingyue L.
Then, as he kept looking, he somehow found himself in the Audi section. Finally, before he knew it, he had inexplicably driven home in a BMW 3 Series.
What was meant to be a full cash payment turned into a down payment.
"What should we do next?" Narii suddenly asked.
"Ah? Oh, anything's fine."
Takashi was still a bit out of it.
Hearing this, a sly glint flashed in Narii's eyes. She dragged Takashi to a hair salon, pushed open the door, and called out, "Master, give him a buzz cut!"
That's what you get for siding with Kaguya.
That's what you get for speaking up for Kaguya.
This is the price of angering me.
The barber hesitated and asked again, "Are you sure about a buzz cut?"
Japanese men care a lot about their hairstyles. It's rare to see anyone with short hair—most prefer longer styles, and nearly everyone uses hair gel.
Especially those working in sales or customer service—they fix their hair daily just to leave a good impression.
Aside from those seeking forgiveness or members of sports clubs, almost no one would willingly get a buzz cut.
Takashi had such good looks that the barber hesitated, feeling reluctant to do it.
How deep was the grudge?
"Forget it, I'll do it."
Impatient with the barber's hesitation, Narii directly pushed Takashi onto the chair, draped the cape over him, picked up the clippers, and went to work.
"Buzz!" "Buzz!"—she hacked away indiscriminately.
In less than five minutes, Narii found herself staring at the reflection in the mirror. Without his hair covering his face, Takashi's deep-set features, thick eyebrows, and strong facial structure became even more striking.
Instead of looking awkward, he now appeared refreshingly sharp and clean—a ruggedly handsome man with a buzz cut.
She fell into deep thought.
Other guys get a buzz cut and look like criminals.
How come you look like Edison Chen?
So you're just inherently handsome?
"Has your anger subsided?"
Takashi picked up a blow dryer, casually dusted off the loose hair, and ran a hand over his buzzed head.
Hmm, it felt pretty nice.
In fact, he had long wanted to cut his hair short.
Wearing a wig all summer had nearly given him heat rash.
Narii didn't feel as triumphant as she had imagined. Instead, she was a bit sulky.
Not only did she fail to get any real sense of revenge, but she also noticed something unsettling—ever since Takashi got his buzz cut, several married women in the salon had been eyeing him almost hungrily.
Two of them, she even knew personally.
"What are you looking at? Don't you all have husbands?" Narii glared at them fiercely.
Do you even remember you're married?
How can you face your husbands ?
"Oh, Narii, you're exaggerating. A domesticated pig never smells as good as a wild one," one of the women joked.
"Isn't that right, Mrs. Sawamura?"
Caught off guard, Sawamura Sayuri, who had been filming a video of her daughter getting her hair done, reflexively agreed.
Before the system could finish, Takashi cut it off without hesitation.
Just when he thought he had figured out the system's limits, it always found a way to sink even lower.
Not even married women were spared.
Might as well call it the Scumbag System at this point.
He could tolerate many things, but not this.
Because if he got involved with a married woman, her husband might actually kill him.
Besides, why waste time on married women when he could be with girls?
Take a girl shopping, hold her hand, and she's already happy.
They've experienced things and are in their prime years, practically ravenous.
They don't just want emotional value; they demand physical fulfillment too.
In the end, who's playing who?
And wasting his first time on a married woman? That was unacceptable.
After all, a guy's first time is just as precious.
Fun fact: In ancient times, virgin man at nightclubs were given red envelopes.
If these were her peers, she would've cursed them already.
But these were her elders—she had to show some respect.
Angrily, she threw some cash from her wallet, grabbed Takashi, and stormed out.
Before being dragged away, Takashi swiftly pocketed the 10,000 yen bill and tossed two 500-yen coins onto the counter.
He noticed that rich people had a habit of not asking about the price and just throwing down a stack of cash.
Maki did it, and Narii was no different.
Next time, just throw it at his face, thanks.
"You must be thrilled right now," Narii dragged Takashi into a quiet corner, pressing him against the wall while looking up at him like a feisty little beast.
"Why do you get angry so easily?"
Narii huffed, glaring at the man in front of her.
Imagine your wife constantly being eyed by other men. Would you be in a good mood?
Takashi looked at her agitated and anxious expression.
After thinking for a moment, he reached out and gently stroked her silky hair. "You should stop now. There's still time."
Clinging to him was meaningless.
He didn't want to lead Narii on.
"Mind your own business."
Feeling his hand on her hair, Narii, who had begun to relax, immediately swatted it away.
She turned and took two steps before suddenly stopping and stepping back.
Takashi looked at her in confusion.
Narii reluctantly extended her hand, interlocking her fingers with his, and grumbled, "I forgot to hold your hand."
Takashi couldn't help but laugh at how adorable she looked.
"What are you laughing at? No laughing allowed!" Narii snapped, her eyebrows raised as she tried to look fierce.
But in this moment, she resembled a tiny Pomeranian baring its teeth at its owner.
"Alright, where do you want to go next?"
"How about a love hotel? I heard their beds are pretty big—you can sleep right after playing."
"If you say another word like that, I'm going home."
"Hmph!" Narii snorted and then pointed at a gathering crowd nearby. "Let's go check that out."
The dressing room door was pushed open from the inside, and a man wearing dark sunglasses with stubble on his chin stepped in from outside.
He looked at the young girl sitting in front of the vanity mirror and asked, "Are you ready, Darling?"
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