Seiji Fujiwara watched the scene before him with mild amusement.
He didn't step in until Utaha was clearly about to explode.
"Thanks for the thought, everyone," he said lazily, "but I'm already used to someone else's cooking. Nothing else really suits my taste."
The girls' faces immediately fell in disappointment.
"Sorry, let me through…"
Seiji pushed past them, stopping in front of the still-stunned Utaha. He reached out a hand and said casually, "Well? What are you standing there for? Aren't you coming in?"
Utaha snapped out of it, and when she saw that teasing smile on his face, her irritation flared. She ignored his hand and brushed past him toward the gate without a word.
But she hadn't taken more than two steps before the whispering started behind her.
"Kasumigaoka-senpai sure has a temper."
"Right? She wouldn't even let Fujiwara-senpai hold her hand."
"That's great! So you're saying… I still have a chance?"
"Look, look—Fujiwara-senpai looks kinda down about it!"
Each whisper stabbed into Utaha like a fine needle.
Her expression shifted several times before she finally spun on her heel.
With a frosty face and under everyone's stunned gazes, she strode back and grabbed Seiji's arm—tight.
A silent declaration of ownership.
The chatter instantly died out.
Feeling the soft warmth and faint fragrance against his arm, Seiji's lips curved upward. He raised an eyebrow at her tense, flushed face—his eyes practically saying, See? Told you. You can't stay away from me.
Utaha caught the meaning instantly, biting down on her lip in frustration.
"Don't get cocky," she muttered through gritted teeth, shooting him a daggered look.
When they reached the shoe lockers, she took the first chance to fling his arm away and hurried up the stairs ahead of him.
Seiji just chuckled quietly and followed at his own pace.
Lunchtime.
To prevent rumors of "relationship problems," Utaha had no choice but to grit her teeth and eat lunch with "Agent 007" Seiji Fujiwara at their usual spot.
Of course, just seeing his face was enough to ruin her appetite.
"I'm done," she said curtly after poking at her food for a few bites, then got up to wash her bento box.
Seiji stayed put.
That's when a flash of gold appeared in his peripheral vision—moving hesitantly, like a skittish deer sneaking through a forest.
Eriri.
Her cheeks were pink as she fidgeted in place for several minutes, peeking out and retreating again and again before finally summoning her courage.
Step by tiny step, she approached him.
"U-Um…"
Her voice was barely a whisper.
Only then did Seiji look up, as if just noticing her, his expression perfectly surprised. "Sawamura-san? What's up?"
"F-Fujiwara-sensei knows who I am?" Eriri blinked in surprise.
"Well, you're one of Toyonozaki's stars—same as my girlfriend. Of course I've noticed you," Seiji said with an easy smile.
"Ahaha, you flatter me! I'm nothing compared to you, sensei!" Eriri waved her hands frantically. Then she took out a copy of After School from her arms, her blue eyes sparkling nervously. "Umm, could I… get your autograph?"
"Of course."
Taking the book, Seiji signed it casually while chatting, "Didn't expect you to be into this kind of mystery novel, Sawamura-san."
That opened the floodgates.
"Yes! Yes!" she nodded eagerly, her blonde twin-tails swaying like dancing ribbons. "I love the locked-room setup—it's so bold and clever!"
Finding someone who actually got it lit her up completely. Words poured out in a rush.
Seiji listened attentively, smiling, occasionally nodding and offering small insights about the story's structure. He was genuinely impressed by her understanding.
From After School, their conversation naturally drifted to A Certain Magical Index—from mystery tricks to the fusion of science and magic in Seiji's novels.
And because light novels were Eriri's specialty, that was all it took for her enthusiasm to explode. She bombarded him with questions about Index and 6 People, 6 Days, 6 Guns, utterly absorbed.
To an outsider, the two of them looked like a couple deep in passionate conversation—faces close, eyes shining, sparks flying.
"…"
When Utaha came back from washing her lunch box, she froze mid-step.
Excuse me—what?!
You two are already hitting it off?
Can't you at least wait a day?!
"Exactly! That's what I thought too!"
"As expected of Fujiwara-sensei!"
"Wow, so that scene really had a hidden meaning?"
Eriri had gone from nervous to relaxed, then fully radiant—eyes sparkling with admiration, completely engrossed.
To her, it felt like she'd finally met the one person in the world who truly understood her—someone who shared her soul, and was ridiculously handsome to boot.
Time slipped away unnoticed.
When the bell signaling the end of lunch finally rang, Eriri reluctantly stood. "Ah, sorry for keeping you so long, Fujiwara-sensei!"
"It's fine. I haven't had such a fun chat in ages." Seiji held up his phone with a grin. "Let's add each other on LINE."
"R-Really?! Yes, of course!" she said, fumbling to grab her phone.
They exchanged contacts quickly, and Eriri waved goodbye, still glowing.
But the instant she left, Seiji felt a chill on his neck—as if someone was glaring daggers at him.
"Who's there?"
He turned—and froze.
Utaha stood a few meters away, her face dark enough to blot out the sun.
"You… haven't left yet?" he asked, feigning confusion.
Her expression darkened further, a throbbing vein pulsing on her forehead.
Oh, sorry. Did I interrupt your little flirting session?
Before she could speak, Seiji casually lifted his phone again and waggled it in her direction—clearly showing off.
"I just added Eriri's LINE," his smug grin seemed to say.
Utaha almost coughed up blood.
She took a long, deep breath, forcing her face into a smile so stiff it hurt.
People on the edge of fury often smile.
In short—Utaha was beyond furious.
She glared daggers at him, then stormed off.
For the rest of the afternoon, a suffocating low-pressure zone hung over her seat.
Meanwhile, the school forum was ablaze.
BREAKING! Fujiwara-sensei and Miss Eriri seen chatting intimately at lunch!
PHOTOS INSIDE! Two Toyonozaki goddesses go to war—Kasumigaoka-senpai left in the cold!
Analysis: Kasumigaoka-senpai's control issues drove Fujiwara-sensei away!
Agreed! Eriri's the perfect match—gentle, cute, totally Fujiwara-sensei's type!
Reading those twisted, slanderous posts—painting her as a jealous shrew—Utaha trembled with rage.
How could these brain-dead kids all side with him?
That flirtatious bastard was the problem, not her!
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got—her expression icy for the entire afternoon.
When the final bell rang, she finally calmed down a little, rubbing her temples in exhaustion.
"Mom was right…" she murmured.
As much as she hated to admit it, today had made her realize what her mother meant last night.
Seiji Fujiwara wasn't just some writer anymore.
He was a public icon—idolized by countless people.
In Japan, society always forgives the talented.
To the world, whatever Seiji did was "genius behavior." Even his womanizing would be romanticized as the charm of a literary prodigy.
And her? She was just the woman beside him.
Even as his "girlfriend," she was ultimately still an accessory.
The so-called "Flower on the Hill of Toyonozaki"? There were plenty of those.
But the best-selling light novel author—the youngest winner of the Edogawa Ranpo Prize? There was only one.
In short… she couldn't control Seiji Fujiwara.
Realizing that, the fire inside her chest was doused with a bucket of cold water.
"I've really fallen for this bastard, haven't I?"
Utaha let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head as she texted her mother:
Mom, I won't be coming over tonight.
Her mother replied almost instantly:
Okay! Spend more time with Fujiwara-kun, dear. You've got this! 💪
That little "You've got this" made Utaha's expression twist even more.
After school.
Utaha didn't throw a fit. She simply accepted reality and, like always, silently followed Seiji to the parking lot.
"Well, well. Isn't this the same Utaha-san who swore she wasn't coming back?" Seiji teased, leaning against his car. "What's this? Changed your mind?"
"…"
Her face flushed bright red. Avoiding his gaze, she hurried to the other side of the car, yanked open the door, and sat down without a word.
Seiji chuckled but didn't push her further. He got in and started the engine.
The car pulled smoothly out of Toyonozaki.
For the entire ride, Utaha sat curled up in the passenger seat, half-turned toward the window, her hair hiding her burning face as she pretended to watch the passing scenery.
The silence was torture.
She could feel his occasional amused glances, making her want to crawl out of her skin.
Yesterday she'd sworn she wouldn't come back—now she'd done the exact opposite.
This is mortifying.
Twenty minutes later, the car slid into the apartment garage.
Seiji unbuckled his seat belt, but instead of getting out, he checked his phone.
Mr. Fujiwara, everything has been settled. Mrs. Kasumigaoka's new apartment and the title to her old home are both taken care of.
He'd spent the afternoon arranging for a law firm to handle everything: a new place for Utaha's mother and repurchasing their old family house.
In this capitalist society, lawyers were just another kind of high-end intermediary—money could solve most problems.
Seiji had the money now. Naturally, he didn't mind using it to look after her family.
"Let's go," he said.
"…Mm." Utaha's voice was barely a whisper. She got out and followed stiffly behind him.
Back at the apartment, she changed shoes as usual.
To cover her embarrassment, she simply pretended nothing had happened, face composed, walking straight to her room to change and prepare dinner like always.
Watching her trying so hard to act natural made Seiji chuckle quietly.
He didn't call her out on it, just sat on the sofa in the living room.
When Utaha emerged in her comfortable home clothes, he spoke up.
"Utaha, come here a sec."
She froze mid-step but walked over, face blank.
"Sit," he said, patting the spot beside him with a pleasant smile. "Let's talk business."
"Business?" she echoed, suspicious.
She had no idea what he was scheming now, but she sat down—keeping a cautious distance.
Seiji's smile deepened. "Remember what I told you before? Starting tomorrow, you'll need to get along with Eriri."
Utaha's lips twitched.
Of course. She knew it.
Taking a deep breath, she let out a cold laugh. "Heh… Fujiwara the Great Novelist, you must be mistaken. I'm your lover, not the madam managing your harem."
"I don't take that kind of job. You can hire a professional for it."
Seiji didn't take the bait. He just pulled out his phone and sent a few messages, completely unbothered.
That calm, confident attitude only made Utaha more confused. She was about to speak again when her own phone buzzed.
A call—from "Mom."
She frowned and stepped onto the balcony to answer.
"Hello? Mom? What's wrong?"
Her mother's excited voice rang out instantly.
"Utaha! I have wonderful news!"
Utaha blinked. "News?"
"The lawyer Fujiwara-kun sent just came by!" her mother said joyfully. "He helped me rent a luxury apartment downtown—200,000 yen a month! And he even bought back our old house!"
Utaha froze.
That house… their home for over a decade, filled with childhood memories.
"Fujiwara-kun also hired a maid to look after me," her mother went on, nearly in tears. "He said I shouldn't overwork myself anymore. Utaha, he's such a considerate young man! I don't have to worry about anything now!"
Utaha was speechless.
Another money attack, huh? Version 4.2?
She sighed internally—but couldn't deny that warmth bloomed quietly in her chest.
This man…
For all his arrogance and womanizing, he could be frighteningly meticulous when he cared.
"I see… then we should go tidy up the house sometime," she said softly, forcing a smile.
They chatted a bit longer before she hung up and went back inside.
Seiji was still on the sofa, looking as relaxed as ever.
Her anger was gone, replaced by a tangle of exasperation, gratitude, and helplessness.
Seiji smiled. "Utaha, come here."
With a resigned sigh, she walked over.
The moment she was close enough, he took her hand and pulled her down beside him.
"Utaha," he said quietly, wrapping his arms around her, his voice low and smooth, "to me, you're not just any lover. You're the queen of this house."
"From now on, any woman who wants to step into this home needs your approval."
"Their status, treatment, even whether they stay or go—it's all up to you."
His words dripped with temptation.
Utaha knew perfectly well what he was doing—trying to manipulate her into accepting his harem plans.
But the horrifying thing was…
It was working.
If she couldn't control him, maybe controlling the women around him wasn't such a bad idea.
The thought flickered to life before she could stop it.
And that realization made her furious—at herself.
Damn it, Utaha Kasumigaoka, are you really that easy to handle?!