After Yūto Shō finished apologizing, he noticed that Tachibana Hina wasn't blaming him at all. Instead, her cheeks were flushed a soft peach color and her expression had gone all soft around the edges, the kind of look that made a man's stomach tighten.
His pulse kicked, another wave of heat rolling through him. But he had no excuse to act on it now, so he kept his head down and forced the contrite act a little further. "Hina-Nee, you don't need to be nice to me. I'm a beast. I'm sorry. Hit me, yell at me, anything—otherwise I'm gonna feel awful about this."
Tachibana Hina took in his sheepish, guilt-stricken face. She was still mortified, but she pulled on the mask of calm grown-up composure and spoke in her gentlest, most measured voice.
"It was my responsibility too. I can't put all of this on you, Shō-Kun. I was anxious to help you and I got carried away in the moment."
"But Hina-Nee, you tried to help me, and I—I did that to you. I'm not even human." Yūto Shō bowed his head in shame.
A complicated note slipped into her voice. "It's Neesan's fault. I forgot how old you are, Shō-Kun. You're still in the middle of puberty—your energy runs hot and it's easy to lose the reins. I should have thought it through."
"Really? Hina-Nee, you really aren't mad?" Yūto Shō looked up at her like a kicked puppy waiting on a verdict.
She could only nod gravely and reinforce it. "It was an accident. Neither of us did anything wrong."
Yūto Shō paused for a beat, then exhaled like a knot had finally come loose in his chest. He looked at her with naked gratitude. "Thank you, Hina-Nee."
Tachibana Hina pulled together a small smile. After all, she'd been taken advantage of, and her palm was still slick with the evidence of what he'd left behind. It was impossible not to mind even a little—but as she'd said, she'd badly underestimated Yūto Shō's self-control, and that was the real reason things had spiraled this far.
She couldn't help adding a gentle reminder. "Shō-Kun, we were only playing a scene earlier, you understand? Even the best actors don't let the role bleed into real life—if you do, it'll mess with you. What you need to do now is find your girlfriend and prove to her you're perfectly healthy. Just like… just now."
By the end of the sentence her cheeks had gone fever-pink again.
Yūto Shō looked a touch sheepish, then lit up like an anime protagonist hitting a power-up arc. "Thanks to you, Hina-Nee, I feel my confidence coming back. I'm going to go find her. I love her, and I'm going to prove I can make her happy!"
He clenched his fists, jaw set with shounen-grade determination.
Tachibana Hina felt a strange pang—part envy of that nameless girl, part something sharper. The boy in front of her had just spilled himself across her fingers, and now he was standing here in the same breath confessing his love for someone else. It scraped at her in a way she didn't want to examine.
But she was a rational adult, so she knew exactly what she had to say. She summoned a smile. "Then Neesan will give you her blessing."
Even as the words left her mouth, a low worry coiled behind her ribs. She hoped her theory wasn't airtight. Because if Yūto Shō really only reacted this way around her… she genuinely wouldn't know what to do about it.
Just then her right hand twitched, and the full, sticky reality of its condition came crashing back. Her pretty face flooded red as she snuck a glance at him.
She'd been hoping Yūto Shō had simply forgotten—he'd ignored the state of her hand and kept the conversation going for ages. She'd been too embarrassed to bring it up, even putting on the unbothered, worldly-older-sister act because she thought she had to be the composed one. Now her composure was sliding off her like a wet coat.
"Shō-Kun," she said quickly, "I'm going to borrow your bathroom to wash my hands."
And she hurried off.
…
Behind her, Yūto Shō watched the flustered line of her back and let a slow smile curl across his face.
He'd done it on purpose. Seeing such an elegant, refined beauty with her hand glazed in his genetic offering, sitting there earnestly soothing him through it—there was a sick little curl of satisfaction in his gut he couldn't deny.
Am I not a full-blown pervert?
The thought landed, and Yūto Shō only shrugged at himself. It didn't matter. Since the system had latched onto him, he'd already racked up a respectable list of degenerate hits. If he wasn't a pervert at this point, the whole operation wouldn't function anyway.
…
A while later, Tachibana Hina emerged with the change of clothes she'd had on earlier bundled in her arms. Her cheeks were still pink, but her tone went soft and proper. "Shō-Kun, I'm going home to do laundry first. I left you some food—remember to eat it. Natsuo made me do it."
She seemed worried he might read too much into it, and she pointedly clarified that delivering food had been Natsuo's idea. Originally she hadn't planned to explain anything, but after what had just happened—and now that he had a girl he loved—her instinct was to make sure he didn't mistake this for her catching feelings. Better they stayed coworkers, clean and uncomplicated.
"Thank you, Hina-Nee." Yūto Shō layered the gratitude on thick, while mentally adding, and thank you for letting me unload.
She gave him one last smile, clutched her bundle tighter, and slipped out.
….
In the bathroom just now, Tachibana Hina had inspected her soiled clothes with surgical thoroughness—especially the more intimate pieces. She'd found no suspicious traces, which only deepened her trust in him.
The very Yūto Shō she now trusted so much was, at that exact moment, mapping out how he'd net this particular married woman next time.
He figured Tachibana Hina was the kind of catch a cuckold husband would eventually serve up to other men anyway. If others were going to feast, why not him? Better he get the meal than some random stranger—and on top of that, he could farm a hefty pile of scumbag points off her.
Speaking of which—
Yūto Shō pulled up the exchange interface. He'd crashed into bed last night right after tallying his points and hadn't checked today's three rotating items yet.
Resilient Skin: 50 Scumbag Points. Skin toughens up—a slap to the face won't even sting.
Basic Energy Potion: 500 Scumbag Points. After drinking, you'll be locked and loaded—able to go hours in the ring without flagging. A must-have weapon for bedroom warfare.
X-Ray Vision: 100,000 Scumbag Points. Both eyes gain see-through capability. Essential kit for the dedicated peeper.
When Yūto Shō's eyes first landed on X-Ray Vision, he was sure he'd misread. He counted the zeros twice, slowly—yep, five of them—and only then did he accept the price tag was real.
One hundred thousand points.
Even pulling a clean 300-point haul every single day, it would take him a year minimum to unlock this skill. And for that entire year, he wouldn't be able to spend his scumbag points on anything else. Just hoard, hoard, hoard.
Why so expensive?
It was just clairvoyance, basically a stock isekai cheat skill.
Yūto Shō frowned and chewed on it. Then it clicked—in those novels, protagonists with X-ray vision tended to break reality wide open with it. The bigger the real-world impact of a cheat, the steeper the shop tagged it.
X-ray vision wasn't just for peeking under blouses. It cracked open gambling tables, jade-stone betting, casino floors—you could rake in tens of millions without breaking a sweat.
Looked at that way, 100,000 scumbag points was almost fair.
Yūto Shō mentally waved goodbye to the lottery ticket. He had 200 points to his name; the path to 100,000 was a fog he couldn't even see through.
His attention drifted to the other two. Resilient Skin had cropped up before. These 50-point cheapies felt like starter perks—some were genuinely solid, like the heightened sense of smell he'd snagged earlier. This one, though, was a dud, so he passed.
That left the Basic Energy Potion. 500 points bought him several hours of stamina, while a permanent enhancement at 600 points only stretched his hang-time by a single extra minute.
But the potion was one-and-done; the enhancement was forever. Different tools for different jobs. Energy Potions were emergency-use only—and Yūto Shō couldn't afford either right now anyway.
I'm broke. Sitting around the apartment isn't going to fix it. Time to head out and see what fate throws at me.
Yūto Shō pushed himself up off the couch, grabbed his keys off the entryway table, and stepped out into the bright hallway light.