After hanging up on Hojo Suzune, Shiratori Kiyoya suddenly felt glad he'd kept his cool and hadn't agreed to let her come to Tokyo.
Hojo Shione was far more mature and wouldn't let her senior-year little sister run wild. So Suzune coming to Tokyo was basically impossible.
Kiyoya calmed down, sat back at the table, and reread the stage plan he'd written for Takahashi Mio. After making sure it looked good, he was about to pack up and sleep.
Ding-dong.
His phone lit again. A new message—from Takahashi Mio—with a badge showing [3 unread].
He suddenly remembered: before calling Suzune, he'd gotten a message from Mio, but he'd been thinking about other things…
He opened the chat—and froze.
"Shiratori-kun, are you free this Saturday afternoon? They all want to meet you…"
"[Photo]"
"Shiratori-kun, is this you?"
He opened the photo. The resolution was poor—clearly a quick phone snap—but you could basically make out what was in it.
Even if he hadn't seen this exact shot, the scene felt familiar.
It was him, and Hojo Shione.
The frame showed Shione facing him under an umbrella.
Kiyoya's brows knit. Trouble.
Not so much because he had to explain it to Mio—if word got out that Hojo Shione's "boyfriend" was at Tokyo H University, a swarm of paparazzi would appear.
He really shouldn't have met her… and even if they had to meet, not at the very visible campus gate.
After a moment's silence, he replied to Mio:
"It's me."
"Oh…"
Her reply came almost instantly.
But with only an "oh," he couldn't read her mood.
"Is that person Hojo Shione?"
"Mm."
"Hojo Shione is really your girlfriend?"
"I wasn't lying to you."
—
By the apartment building, Mio sat on the edge of a planter under a streetlamp.
Staring at Kiyoya's message, her fine brows pinched together. Her chest felt tight.
Her feelings tangled—she couldn't even say how.
Irritated disbelief? A sour pang of inadequacy? Or the resentment of a girlfriend discovering her boyfriend still has lingering ties with an ex?
Probably not the last one—but she still felt wronged.
For a moment she even forgot to exercise a girlfriend's "rights"—to demand, What on earth is going on?
Rewind two hours.
Mio had found Haruno Rika's advice sensible: if she wanted to know what kind of person Shiratori Kiyoya really was—whether he had bad intentions—the best way was to understand his past.
And to do that, she had to find people from his past.
Except she and Rika hadn't found anyone at H University who knew him then.
So they'd have to start with his high school.
Obviously she couldn't just ask him point-blank, "Which high school? I want to know if you're a jerk and lying to me." Even if she blurted it out, there was no guarantee he'd tell the truth.
Two million yen wasn't pocket change. He was sending her a lot every month, buying her all sorts of things—bags, jewelry—taking her to get a makeover.
And he wasn't taking advantage of her…
Mio was sure Shiratori Kiyoya had some secret he couldn't say out loud.
Yes, his talk about turning her into a star was thrilling.
But what if he tricked her into signing some weird contract to shoot who-knows-what?
With that worry in mind, using "my friends heard I'm dating and want to meet you" as pretext to feel him out seemed wisest.
She did feel it was a bit much.
But if he turned out to be a good guy… she'd make it up to him later.
After two days of being around him, she suddenly felt he wasn't like other men she'd met. There was an indefinable pull when she talked with him—especially a strange sense of calm…
Honestly, actually being his girlfriend might not be so bad. She'd just do her part, properly.
That was her thinking.
She'd set up a dinner tonight to tell her friends she was seeing someone.
Bag in hand, Mio stepped into the reserved private room. All eyes swung to her.
Silence fell—so complete that if not for the sounds outside, she'd have thought some telekinetic hit the mute button.
Even Haruno Rika stared, mouth slightly open.
"What? Why are you all looking at me like that?"
Mio blinked, touching her face and hair. "Is something off about me?"
"Uh…"
The old high-school friends traded looks. Rika recovered first and smiled. "Mio, why the style change?"
"Huh?"
Only then did it click.
After Shiratori's "remodel," she looked like a different person.
Most obvious was her hair: the blonde with teal streaks was now pure black, the ends softly curled over her shoulders.
The polished style perfectly matched her face. The mini skirt and tights were replaced by a pale blue long skirt and white chiffon top—her whole vibe turned elegant and serene.
She looked as good as ever.
Compared to her previous peacock-brash glam, she was now more natural, softer, rose-deep from the inside out—hard to look away from.
Basking in their stunned looks, a warm satisfaction rose in her chest; she put on a shy smile. "Don't look at me like that—it's weird. I'm not that different…"
Maybe she enjoyed it; she moved more gracefully, sat beside Rika, and picked up the menu. "Ordered yet? It's been a while—let me treat."
Rika's eyelid twitched. She glanced at Mio, then took the menu. "Works for me. You finally got a boyfriend—you should treat us."
At the word boyfriend, everyone lit up.
A round-faced girl across the table leaned in, eager. "Right—Rika was just saying you got a boyfriend with zero warning. When did this happen?"
"Recently…"
"See? I said it—someone as pretty as you should've dated ages ago. But the makeover is big. I almost didn't recognize you…"
They chattered on. Mio and Rika gave a broad outline about Shiratori Kiyoya—leaving out the debt and the "he's paying it off" part. They simply asked everyone to "help suss him out—no need to be polite." There'd be no need to prompt questions about his high school or past—the others would naturally ask. If there's one thing women don't lack, it's curiosity.
With that settled, they moved on to gossip.
A very thin short-haired girl suddenly said, "Hey, did you see the school forum today?"
"No. What now—who broke up, who's food got stolen, who got exposed cheating?"
"Neither. It's a huge shock."
"Word is Hojo Shione came to our campus today! And she 'ran off' with some guy—supposedly her boyfriend…"
"Huh?"
"'Ran off' sounds dramatic—and wrong setting. And how would she have time to come here? Isn't her concert next month? She must be busy."
"I thought so too—but the post has a photo."
"What? For real? A photo?"
"Yeah. Not very clear—just a side view…"
"Here."
She enlarged the pic and set the phone in the middle of the table.
They gathered around.
Mio didn't lean in first. A bad feeling pricked at her.
"No full face, and there's a mask. Sure it's Shione?"
"Comments say lots of people saw her at noon. Probably not AI, right?"
"Let Mio look. She's a Shione fan, right? She bought tons of merch and posters and went to her live competition. She'll know."
All eyes turned to Mio.
"Mm. I should be able to tell."
Tucking hair behind an ear, she smiled and picked up the phone…
Her eyes went straight to the man 'running off' with Shione.
At that silhouette, her pupils shrank. The smile froze on her face.
"Well? Is it Shione, Mio?"
She didn't seem to hear. Her grip on the phone tightened.
Rika, next to her, narrowed her eyes, sensed something was off, and gave Mio a discreet stomp under the table.
Mio snapped back, set the phone down, and gave an awkward smile. "Sorry—too focused."
Then she shook her head, feigning ease. "Can't tell. It's too blurry, and there's a mask. Hard to say…"
"Oh. Then no way to know…"
Disappointed murmurs faded; soon a new topic took over.
Mio barely tasted dinner, mind replaying lunch with Kiyoya.
So… that call he took. Did she misread the name?
Was it Shione on the line?
Hojo Shione really was his girlfriend? How could that be?
Time flew with a secret on her mind. After they said goodbye, Rika lit a cigarette at the curb, inhaled, and asked, "So the person in the photo—is that Hojo Shione?"
"I don't know."
Mio shook her head.
In truth, she'd known at a glance it probably was.
Rika pressed on. "And the guy—your new boyfriend?"
This time Mio didn't deny it. She nodded obediently. "Mm."
Rika said nothing, smoked to the end, and then, gazing at the streetlight, murmured:
"Maybe that's not a bad thing for you."