Spring break was almost over. I'd spent every day diving into dungeons, collecting magic stones and materials.
Something I learned after awakening here: boss dungeons are crucial. If you don't defeat the boss within a week, a rift appears—granting monsters immunity to oxygen by converting magical energy to survive outside.
That's why high-rank dungeons take priority, while low-rank ones wait until the last day—offering juicy rewards to prevent fractures.
Two Key Discoveries:
No EXP Gain. No matter how many I kill, I'm stuck at Level 1. (Is it because I don't have a "job" like others?)
Skills Through Difficulty. In my past life, these were called "Blessings." Here, they're similar:
Useful: Great Berserker, Detection (sensing magic energy).
Useless: Instant Clothes Drying (I wish I was joking).
After slaughtering some demon monkeys, I returned home. Hinami-san was cooking when she suddenly shrieked:
"Why are you covered in blood?!"
(I forgot monster blood splatters during battles. Weird how no cops stopped me on the way.)
"Sorry. I don't have clothes that fit since losing weight, so I wore my dad's old ones."
"That's irresponsible!" She checked me for wounds. "You have nothing to wear?"
"Nope."
"Perfect." She smirked at Yukine and me.
"We're going shopping Saturday! All three of us."
"Seriously?!" we yelled in unison. Yukine looked especially disgusted.
Hinami-san's lethal glare ended the debate:
"We are going. Mama needs to buy your school uniforms."
"But I wanted to read manga—"
"I said we're going."
Her sweet-but-deadly tone left no room for argument. We sighed:
"Yes, ma'am..."
◇◇◇
"What do you mean it'll take even longer?"
In the staff room of the shopping mall, a man dressed in impeccable Italian attire—yet speaking in an exaggeratedly feminine tone—was berating a nervous executive in a suit.
"W-we apologize! Our talent said he was busy filming yesterday, and after the shoot... he went bar-hopping."
A deadly pause.
"So you're telling me," the man's saccharine voice now dripped venom, "that idiot is so drunk he can't even stand?"
We booked this photoshoot with his agency months in advance!
"This is completely unprofessional. Especially given his history of problematic behavior."
"W-we're terribly sorry! We can't refund the deposit since he'll... eventually show up."
"Ohhh~" A sarcastic sing-song. "So the money we spent renting this space for three hours... you won't return it?"
"We've already wasted two hours! Drag that fool here NOW or I'll sue for breach of contract!"
"Y-yes, sir!" The executive fled, wringing his hands.
"Director Kanase, if you keep frowning like that, you'll get wrinkles~" A melodic voice chimed in.
"Yuka-chan! You're so mean!" Kanase instantly switched to a playful tone, as if flipping a personality switch.
"Fufufu~ My apologies."
"At least you're professional."
"Well, they pay me to be," she shrugged, "so honestly? I couldn't care less."
"Goodness. An angel's face with a viper's tongue."
"Fufufu~ Someone has to protect your beauty," Miyabi Yuka—AKA "Yukana"—replied, nibbling a grape with perfect teeth. She crossed her legs with practiced elegance, sheer black stockings gleaming against stiletto boots. The lace trim of her blouse fluttered as she stretched, translucent sleeves hinting at porcelain skin beneath.
"Though I should mention..." She lowered her voice. "I ate three bowls of ramen before coming."
Kanase blanched.
"In that dress?! Where the hell did you put it?!"
"A lady's mystery~" She smirked, tracing a hand over her flat stomach beneath the cropped blouse.
Yukana was fashion's enigma: a model who devoured absurd amounts of food without gaining a gram. Tabloids called her "The Metabolic Miracle."
Kanase checked his watch with a groan.
"We're paying a fortune for this space. At this rate, the company won't recoup a single yen."
"Then... we improvise." Yuka's smile turned devious.
"Listen up!" The director clapped. "We need a photogenic guy, aged 18 to 20—" A dramatic pause. "Hot. Must be in the mall right now."
"Doesn't matter if he's with his girlfriend, mom, or kids," Yuka added, popping another grape. "We'll persuade him... nicely."
The team scattered like worker ants. Yuka leaned toward Kanase, whispering:
"What if we can't find anyone?"
The director's glasses flashed ominously.
"Then..." His grin widened. "You'll be our 'hot guy.'"
Yuka nearly spat out her juice.
◇
We arrived at the shopping mall.
Hinami-san had washed my monster-stained clothes, so this would be the last time I'd wear those tattered rags. The place was more dazzling than the old Yuuya remembered—gleaming stores, smiling crowds, sparkling lights... It all felt equally fascinating and mundane.
"Yuuya-kun, what else do you need besides clothes?" Hinami-san asked as we walked.
"Well, I'll be starting school soon too," I replied. "Some notebooks should do."
(Speaking of which... why is my backpack shredded and empty? Did I lose it? Or did a dog chase me for it?)
Suddenly, Yukine tugged her mother's sleeve:
"Mom, look! Those earrings are on sale. I want them!"
"Yukine, weren't you the one who didn't want to come?" Hinami-san teased. "Now you're the most excited."
"I'll go ahead!"
"Wait— Good grief, this girl."
Yukine dashed toward a jewelry store. Hinami-san gave me an apologetic glance:
"Sorry, I'll get what she wants first, then we'll focus on your clothes."
"No rush. I'm enjoying the scenery."
She nodded and followed her daughter.
Watching them together reminded me of Zola and Merce, a mother and daughter from my past life. Their village had been destroyed by monsters, and with nowhere else to go, I'd stayed to protect them.
At first, Zola kept her distance, but she gradually grew so close she treated me like her husband. Merce, though shy and wary, eventually warmed up too. Living with them made me miss my lost family.
Now, with Hinami-san and Yukine, I felt that same warmth.
(I'm getting too lost in memories... I'll wander around until they're done.)
I turned—and nearly jumped out of my skin when a mysterious girl materialized and latched onto my arm.
"Hey, onii-san~ Are you free?" She pressed my arm against her chest with a sugary smile.
I froze.
(A "Honey Trap"! Those girls who seduce you just to extort money later. I saw it on the news.)
"Sorry, I'm busy," I tried to pull away.
"Huh? Don't be like that~ I don't bite," she laughed, clinging tighter. "Come with me, and I'll make sure you have fun."
(That just makes you more suspicious!)
I could break free with force, but that'd draw too much attention.
(Better play along... and if things go south, I'll bolt.)
"Well..." I said cautiously. "Where to?"
She grinned victoriously, oblivious that I already had an escape plan.
◇
"Hmph!"
The girl dragged me to a room marked "Authorized Personnel Only," which only deepened my suspicions.
(Damn, their extortion operation is more professional than I thought...)
Inside, several busy staff members bustled about—far more organized than I expected.
"Sorry about that," the girl suddenly apologized. "Truth is, I brought you here for a job offer. If I'd said so upfront, you'd have thought it was a scam."
(Like hell it wasn't a scam! You manhandled me like a sack of potatoes!)
But since I was already there, I decided to hear them out.
An elderly man with white hair and beard scrutinized me head to toe—then nearly popped his eyes out.
"OH MY GOD, HE'S GORGEOUS!" he shrieked, seizing my hands. "EUREKA! PERFECTION! YOU MUST MODEL FOR ME! I BEG YOU!"
His enthusiasm was terrifying.
A calm but firm voice cut through the chaos:
"Director, you're scaring him."
I turned to face Miyabi Yuka—a vision of radiant elegance. Her plunging neckline seemed scientifically designed to short-circuit male brains.
"I'm Yukana," she said with a professional smile. "Let me explain."
Turns out their lead model got wasted and flaked. They needed an emergency replacement.
"I get it, but I'm just here to buy clothes..." I hedged.
"Even BETTER!" The director interrupted. "Help us, and we'll gift you designer outfits! We've got connections with EVERY store!"
(Free clothes? With my dungeon earnings, this is a godsend.)
"Fine. But I've never modeled before," I conceded.
Yuka cheered and hugged me. "Yay~! I'm counting on you...?"
"Yukimiya Yuuya."
"Then it's settled, Yuuya-kun." She clapped her hands. "DIRECTOR—ACTION!"
The room exploded into organized madness:
Makeup caked my face in powder.
Wardrobe took my measurements—assistants tripped when I removed my shirt.
Lighting crew adjusted reflectors like prepping a military strike.
Our first set: "Modern Young Love." Clueless, I froze—until Yuka guided me with surprising patience.
"Relax," she whispered. "Imagine standing on a beach, ocean before you..."
Her advice reminded me of Mimi, a blind model from my past life who "saw" through touching paintings.
(...She too loved her work, despite the struggles.)
During a 5-minute break, I overheard Yuka's heated phone call:
"I said we're THROUGH! Stop calling!" She hung up, hands trembling.
When our eyes met, her tears betrayed her.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Fine. It's nothing." She wiped her cheeks. "You heard?"
"Didn't mean to."
"Whatever... the tabloids already know."
Leaning against the wall, she spilled her pain:
Raised as a model since childhood.
Betrayed by her fiancé (and her manager!).
Smeared by media as a "gold-digging floozy."
"But I won't quit," she said, smudged mascara defiant. "I'll start a free modeling school. Make people respect this as art."
"That's admirable." I dabbed her ruined makeup. (She's like Mimi—turning others' expectations into purpose.)
"E-ranks get scorned too. But I'll climb anyway. So should you."
Yuka stared—then burst out laughing.
"Pfft—you're weird." Her cheeks pinked. "No Tokyo guy talks like that."
(Shit. Forgot Yuuya's socially awkward.)
Suddenly, she leaned in, lips brushing my ear:
"Know what? You play the nice boy well... but I bet you're a wolf in sheep's clothing."
Before I could retort, the director bellowed:
"Yuka-chan! Yuuya-kun! WRAP TIME!"
The shoot wrapped triumphantly—with Yuka smiling brighter than the studio lights.
◇◇◇
The apartment door clicked shut as Yuka finally returned home after an exhausting day. Her cat Mochi greeted her with a soft meow, rubbing against her legs still sheathed in sheer black stockings.
"I know, I know... you're starving," she murmured, scratching behind Mochi's ears before ordering takeout on her phone.
Steam filled the bathroom as hot water washed away the fatigue. The background noise of a news program drifted in—until the inevitable gossip segment began:
"Has Miyabi Yuka lost her touch? Brands drop model following scandals..."
"Sources say her figure isn't what it used to be..."
Click. The TV went silent. Yuka turned it off with a tired sigh, but no bitterness.
Wrapped in a fluffy towel, she picked up her phone. There it was—the photo with Yuuya after today's shoot. His awkward but genuine smile, her own laughter (when had she last laughed like that?). His contact info stared back at her...
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. Text him? Say what?
"...Another day," she whispered, setting the phone down. "Today... I'm happy."
And she meant it. For the first time in months, something—or someone—had made her heart skip differently.
_________________
I'm leaving you fanservice of Yuka-chan, one of the waifus with the best curves in the novel so far. Phew, you can't imagine how difficult it was for me to choose between these two artworks for her since she looks beautiful in everything: https://mega.nz/folder/HsREyZ5L#tKvkNE0Zmmb8VlBc1cK3bg