The next day. A corner booth in the university cafeteria.
Takahashi Mio sat across from Shiratori Seiya, her posture perfect, her expression serene. She'd rehearsed this conversation in her head at least a dozen times.
"So, as I was explaining, I don't think I can accept your proposal. About the acting thing. The celebrity thing."
She offered a gentle, sincere smile—the kind that usually made people nod along without question.
Today's look was carefully curated. Her hair, now stripped of those garish green tips, flowed in pure black waves past her shoulders. Soft. Elegant. The light yellow long dress and silk blouse—yesterday's purchases—fit her perfectly. White heels completed the picture. She was going for kind girlfriend. Approachable but alluring.
Shiratori Seiya glanced up.
"It suits you. Very pretty."
Two sentences. Dry. Completely devoid of the enthusiasm she'd hoped for.
Mio's smile tightened imperceptibly.
She'd heard plenty of compliments from the sales assistant yesterday. But that was yesterday. Today required fresh validation. And she wanted it from him—from this clueless idiot who clearly had no idea how to talk to women. Getting a genuine reaction from someone like that would feel like a real accomplishment.
But Shiratori Seiya had already lost interest. He was focused on his plate, meticulously picking out green onions and chopped bell peppers with surgical precision.
Mio watched, fascinated despite herself.
He doesn't like those.
She filed the information away. Picky eater. Probably argued with his mother a lot as a kid.
His prolonged silence, however, was starting to get to her.
Did I reject him too bluntly?
She'd been honest about her father—the old-fashioned Showa relic who'd break her legs if she pursued acting. That was true. But would Shiratori believe her? Or would he think she was making excuses?
She couldn't read him. In the days since they'd met, she'd rarely seen him display any real emotion. Just that calm, flat expression. Like a pond with no ripples.
The silence stretched. Mio felt the pressure building.
Say something. Give me something. Anything.
Passersby glanced at them—the stunning girl in the yellow dress eating with the plain guy in long sleeves. She didn't care anymore. The shocks of the past two days had numbed her. The upcoming group meeting with her friends meant everyone would know soon anyway.
Besides, Shiratori Seiya wasn't bad. Objectively. In a certain light.
Her gaze drifted to the discarded vegetables at the edge of his plate.
"Um, Shiratori-kun? Aren't you hot? Wearing long sleeves in—"
"It's not as fast as you think."
She blinked. "What?"
He set down his chopsticks, having finally purged his plate of all "trash." His dark eyes met hers.
"I'm suggesting you become an actress. I'm not telling you to perform on stage tomorrow. Aside from your looks—which are outstanding—you currently lack the ability to stand in front of a camera."
Mio's polite smile remained fixed. Behind it, her teeth ground together.
Outstanding looks. He called me pretty. Focus on that.
He also just called me talentless.
Focus on the pretty part.
Her hands, hidden beneath the table, clenched into fists.
Strangle him. Strangle him right now.
Had twelve years of education taught him nothing about tact? About how to talk to people? He was probably the kind of kid who got ostracized in school. Definitely had no friends now.
Even if Hōjō Shione had been his girlfriend—which she still doubted—she'd probably dumped him for this exact reason. His complete inability to read a room.
Only she, Takahashi Mio, was noble enough to tolerate him.
"So don't overthink it," he continued, oblivious to her internal screaming. "Just follow the study plan I've set for you. Improve step by step."
Mio's smile cracked.
"Wait. Study plan? Did you not hear what I just said? I'm not—"
"As for your family situation."
He paused. Those dark eyes fixed on her with unsettling intensity.
"You're different from others, Takahashi-san. I saw your potential the moment I looked at you. You just don't realize it yet."
Mio's breath caught.
"The moment you step onto a real stage, everyone will cheer. They'll be drawn to your light—unable to look away."
What is he—
"But before that, you need to block out the noise. The things that haven't happened yet. The things that would only hold you back."
His voice was steady. Certain. Like he was describing a simple fact, not possibility.
"I don't make promises lightly. But if you're willing to trust me? Nothing is a problem."
Mio's heart hammered against her ribs.
This was different from before. This wasn't manipulation or pressure. This was... conviction. He actually believed what he was saying. Believed in her.
She'd never had anyone look at her like that. Like she was already the person they saw.
Her throat went dry. Her hands, still clenched in her lap, ached from the pressure—the only thing keeping her from leaning forward and demanding details. What study plan? What do I do next? Can you really handle my father?
She dropped her gaze to the table, grabbing her tea for something to do. Took a sip. Said nothing.
Three days. Almost four. And I'm just now seeing this side of him.
The way he spoke—it was special. Captivating. Like he could see the future and was just describing it aloud. Especially his eyes. The certainty in them.
(Except the Hōjō Shione thing. That was still ridiculous. She'd die before admitting that was real.)
"I..."
One syllable. Then nothing. She didn't know what to say.
Shiratori Seiya shook his head slightly, picking up his chopsticks again.
"I don't need a promise from you. It probably still sounds unrealistic."
He paused.
"Let's make it practical. Follow my instructions. Complete the small goals I set. For each one? One million yen."
Mio's eyes went wide.
Her father's stern face, his Showa-era lectures, his absolute authority—all of it evaporated. Flushed directly into the Marianas Trench of her mind.
What do you need me to do? Give me the mission. Right now. Please.
She opened her mouth—
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Her impulse died unspoken. Shiratori Seiya had just lifted his chopsticks, but his gaze snapped to the phone buzzing on the table beside him.
The screen glowed.
Incoming Call: Aunt
Something shifted in his expression. A crack in that perfect calm. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
He set down his chopsticks. Hesitated—just for a moment. Then picked up the phone.
"One moment."
Mio nodded automatically, schooling her features into docile curiosity. "Oh, okay."
She watched him walk toward the window, turning his back to her. Watched him answer the call.
She couldn't hear the words. But she saw his posture change. Saw his shoulders tense.
And then, even from across the cafeteria, she saw his reaction to whatever came through the receiver.
Something had happened.
Something big.
>>>
"Seiya? Seiya! Did you break up with Shione?!"