243 Please Stop Your Delusions

Kyousuke's apology tour was far from over. Just thinking about Utaha-senpai's personality gave him a headache.

Last time, he had been tied up with the production of the One Punch Man anime and hadn't contacted her for several days.

That alone got him labeled a heartless man who threw women away the moment they were no longer useful.

Who knew what she'd say this time?

Although her official residence was in Hikarishi, for convenience's sake, even during breaks, Kasumigaoka Utaha usually stayed at her Tokyo apartment.

Unlike the bachelor pad Kyousuke used to live in, this was a high-end condo located in Shimoochiai, Mejiro, Toshima Ward.

Each unit was over 150 square meters—what people in Japan would call a "tower mansion."

The neighborhood was near both the lively student district of Takadanobaba and Mejiro Station.

Because he had called ahead, the door opened quickly after he rang the bell, revealing that beautiful face he knew all too well.

She wore a thin white nightdress trimmed with lace.

A graceful curve rose gently at her chest, and although he only caught a glimpse, he unmistakably saw a black bra underneath.

Spectacular. With a figure like hers, any outfit looked incredible.

"Welcome home, Kyousuke-kun," she said sweetly, bowing slightly.

Her long, silky black hair slipped down into the deep valley of her chest. That headband of hers was clearly just an accessory to enhance her charm.

As Utaha knelt to lay out his slippers, Kyousuke felt a sudden rush of heat in his nose.

No, not a nosebleed—just the warm breath of a man flustered by what he was seeing.

That contrast between her fair skin, black lingerie, and flowing hair… it was practically a work of art.

He mentally apologized for ever dreading this visit. This place was basically heaven.

"Pardon the intrusion," he said, taking a deep breath and slipping on the house slippers.

"Kyousuke, shouldn't you be saying 'I'm home' instead?" Utaha rose and stared at him directly.

Honestly, she had always thought he didn't need to buy a place of his own—her apartment had everything he'd ever need.

"Haha, I'll say it properly next time you come over to my place. I'll shout 'Welcome home!' nice and loud."

Kyousuke was never one to shy away from that kind of playful banter.

"Is that so? Then maybe I'll come over later today, just to try it out for myself."

Her smile was soft, yet her tone wasn't joking in the slightest—it was unmistakably flirtatious.

'…If it were any other day, I might actually go along with that,' Kyousuke thought. But today just feels... off.

Seeing he didn't respond, Utaha smirked slightly to herself, cheering inwardly.

That's what she liked—desire clearly reflected in his eyes, but restrained and respectful.

Just like writing a novel: deep emotions kept in check until they fermented into something intoxicating.

She turned and led him inside, her voice laced with a gentleness she never used outside:

"What brings you here today, Kyousuke? Shouldn't you be busy charming your way through parties thrown by associations and publishers?"

She wasn't upset like last time.

She was proud of the man she liked steadily climbing toward greatness. Seeing him shine only deepened her affection.

"Oh, that? I stopped going. We're close to the final selections now, and if I'm too active, people might start whispering behind my back again."

Kyousuke responded casually, though his eyes couldn't help but wander.

Her hips swayed with each step, the long, sheer chiffon skirt occasionally getting caught between her thighs, perfectly outlining their firm, round shape.

Honestly, it made the oncoming verbal storm feel almost worth it.

He had been to this apartment many times before to discuss work, so he knew the layout well. Instead of sitting beside her like usual, he took the seat opposite.

"I see. That makes sense. Award season is just around the corner, isn't it? I think the first one's the Honya Grand Prize on April 7th, right?"

Utaha crossed her right leg over her left and casually swung it back and forth. She'd clearly been keeping tabs on his progress.

"No matter how many times I see them, your legs are always amazing," Kyousuke said in awe.

Tights or pants could add some flair, but bare legs left no room to hide—true beauty had to stand on its own.

Unlike Eriri's slender frame, Utaha's legs had a slight curve to her calves, with smooth, elegant lines.

The glimpse of her thighs, softly pressed together under her skirt, struck the perfect balance of plumpness and grace.

"Are you saying only my legs look good?" she teased.

Although she was usually the one doing the teasing, under Kyousuke's openly admiring gaze, even Utaha blushed a little.

It felt like invisible hands were gliding over her skin, the tingling sensation reaching all the way to her chest.

Honestly, for someone who talked a big game, she was still ridiculously innocent.

"Everything about you is perfect," he replied. Even your occasional mean streak is cute.

"Is that so? Then… would you like to see more?"

"A-hem. Next time. Next time."

"Hehehe~" She laughed, playfully rocking her body, sending even more 'visual gifts' his way.

'Is it really that bouncy?' Kyousuke's brain unhelpfully supplied a phrase straight out of a commercial: You won't believe the bounce! Yeah, that was probably how it went.

"Actually, I came today because I needed to talk to you about something." He sat upright, forcing his eyes back to her face.

'Get it together! You're here to apologize!'

"Oh?" she tilted her head.

———————————————————————

"…So, yeah. That's how it is. I'm really sorry, but… I won't be going to the same high school as you."

He bowed deeply, his voice solemn.

The room instantly went still, the temperature dropping several degrees.

That had to be his imagination—there's no way the AC was on in this weather.

But Kyousuke felt a chill run down his neck like someone had blown on it.

He looked up slowly… and regretted it.

Nope. Not imagination.

The snow maiden of Fuyunozaki was radiating pure frost, dark flames practically swirling behind her. Her smile warped the air like a distortion in space.

"I see. I completely understand now," she began, voice flat and theatrical.

"Let me tell you a story. About five years ago, on a starless night in a deserted Tokyo alley, a naïve girl in the spring of her youth met a perfect man."

"Their fates, which should never have intersected, twisted together. The man easily stole her heart."

"But when he grew tired of her, he discarded her—just like you're discarding me now."

"He promised her, with all sincerity, that he'd join her at Soubu High the following year. But he completely forgot."

"And now, that girl has returned, holding the hand of her four-year-old child, to demand he keep his promise. Pressured by family and society, the man decides to leave me behind… and return to her."

"Hold on, what do you mean five years ago? What woman? Five years ago I was still in fifth grade! And you've completely messed up the point of view!"

"Ahh~ but now I truly understand how that woman must've felt. So this is my first time, huh? It really does hurt."

"Oh no… I've become a pitiful, clueless Tokyo woman. No—worse than her. At least she got a child out of it. Me? All I've got is a history of being repeatedly abandoned."

Uttering all this to herself, Kasumigaoka Utaha's wine-red eyes glistened with tears.

"Stop saying weird stuff! We didn't do anything that would hurt, okay? And I'm not going to abandon you. No, scratch that—I never abandoned you in the first place. Even if you're a writer, at least keep your fantasies within reason!"

Kyousuke was starting to get a headache.

"I meant emotionally, okay? My poor, fragile heart... It's just like my fingers last Christmas—typing away in a cold, damp room all alone."

"That aching pain crawled from my fingertips into my chest until I couldn't even scream."

"I could only repeat your name—'Kyousuke… Kyousuke…'—over and over in my mind. Pathetic, isn't it? Even in a moment like that, all I could think about… was you."

The girl's dainty foot tapped the floor restlessly, the force of it making the soft flesh of her thighs and calves ripple slightly.

Thankfully, the carpet was thick enough to spare her heels any pain.

"I'm telling you, it's not like that! And don't drag my name into these wild scenarios, it really makes me feel guilty," Kyousuke groaned, scratching his head.

Utaha-senpai and Eriri were polar opposites.

When Eriri was upset, she'd withdraw and sulk in silence, chewing on her emotions in solitude.

Utaha, on the other hand, expressed herself completely—even if that meant using her sharp tongue to drag you into her misery just so you'd feel as bad as she did.

It was like those women who, terrified of the pain of childbirth, would demand their husbands experience something equally painful before asking again.

Utaha didn't seem averse to the idea of children though—something he'd picked up on when she'd helped him look at apartments. Not that it was relevant right now.

"I know I owe you an apology, Senpai. So…" He looked straight into her eyes. Her beautiful crimson gaze seemed to glint with an icy light.

"Does that blonde ojou-sama know yet?"

Her voice turned cold—but still melodic.

Like a poised female physicist explaining entropy while radiating barely concealed frost.

The sudden shift was so jarring, Kyousuke felt like a swordsman who'd just been slashed open with a clean, horizontal strike… only for his opponent to then casually sheath the blade, pour tea, and start complaining about rising rice prices.

One party was bleeding out; the other was sipping calmly and muttering, "Soon we won't even afford white rice."

It wasn't surprising that Utaha knew about Eriri.

Though the topic rarely came up between them, he had mentioned Eriri back when they first talked about high school.

Besides, they both attended Toyogasaki Academy and were standouts in their own right—it would be strange not to recognize each other.

Oh, and they did officially meet at the last signing event. Thinking back, Utaha had been acting strangely that day, too... just like now.

"Eriri? Yeah, she already knows."

He wasn't sure why she brought Eriri up, but Kyousuke answered honestly anyway.

What surprised him was that after hearing it, Utaha's foot-tapping actually slowed down. She even smiled—just a little.

"I see. That's good, then."

Huh? Senpai… what's with that satisfied tone in your voice?

"Don't talk about compensation or apologies. Between us, those words are meaningless. You just need to know—I'd do anything for you."

Utaha's gaze softened, her wine-red eyes shimmering with a mix of bashfulness and sincerity.

If Kashiwagi Eriri ever heard that, she'd probably throw a tantrum, scream something childish like "We're not friends anymore!" and kick Kyousuke out of the house.

Ha… girls like that just don't stand a chance.

In love, who came first doesn't matter. Fate isn't about seniority—it's about who stays until the end.

Wait, what?

She was just being snarky a moment ago—how did we jump to this seductive tone again?

Kyousuke blinked in confusion.

He could feel the temperature in the room warming.

Her face radiated a gentle affection. Ah… so this is what they mean by a "gentle trap," huh?

Show how deeply she's been hurt, then soften it with tenderness, leaving you drowning in guilt… deepening your bond through emotional entanglement.

Hmm… that actually sounds kind of nice.

"Of course, if it's within reason—financially, emotionally, and time-wise."

After a dramatic 0.5-second pause, she added that caveat.

Her sultry statement instantly shifted into something more like a promise between close friends.

"And… if there's something I want, I'll fight for it myself."

As she said that, the dark-haired girl fixed her wine-colored eyes on Kyousuke, scanning him slowly from head to toe.

"By the way, do you still need help with your place? School's starting soon. If your living situation isn't sorted, that could be pretty stressful."

She was saying different words, but Kyousuke could already see where this was going.

So this is the standard playbook for a "background heroine," huh?

"All the arrangements have been made," he said calmly. "And… three girls are already living there."

That was reality. Though in his head, he fantasized about saying, "Everything's ready, Senpai—just waiting for you to move in."

"Oh~ I get it~"

Toyogasaki's very own Snow Woman lifted a slender finger to her lips, tapping gently in a teasing, innocent rhythm.

"So it's like… a special arrangement, huh? They give you something in exchange for the right to stay, and then…"

"Let's end that kind of joke here," Kyousuke cut in, his tone serious. "Please don't extend that kind of talk to the people around me."

He knew this was mild compared to her usual jabs, but he couldn't stand for anyone making even playful insinuations about Sakura and the others.

"If anyone tries to insult you in front of me just to make themselves look better, I won't let it slide either."

"…Sorry. That was out of line."

For two full seconds, Utaha was silent, then bowed her head slightly.

'Sigh… it's because you're like this, Kyousuke… that I can't help but fall for you.'

That calm confidence, that gentle warmth toward those close to you… but also that sharp coldness you show to outsiders when necessary.

It's just too much. If only that kindness belonged to me alone…

"Well then," she said at last. "If they're just renting a room in your house—then I want to rent one too."

After a brief pause, as if to justify her motives, she added, "I'm actually looking for a new place to live. The landlord here keeps harassing me."

"Is that so? Do you want me to go have a word with him? Or call the police?" Kyousuke asked calmly, his voice steady.

Of course, he already knew the truth — this apartment belonged to Kasumigaoka Utaha herself.

He was just playing along with her act.

"Ahem, no need for that. I already gave her a good scolding," Utaha muttered, her usually composed face tinged with an uncharacteristically cute blush.

"Need help packing your things?"

Another girl was about to move in.

Kyousuke had just narrowly survived his last encounter, yet somehow, the idea of welcoming someone new brought a spark of joy to his heart.

"No need. Just come by tomorrow and help me carry a few bags."

Since this wasn't a real rental apartment, there was no need to pack everything.

Just the essentials — anything else could be bought again once she moved in.

"Got it. I'll clean up the spare rooms today. You can choose whichever one you like when you come by."

"Then I'll take the one closest to yours."

"...Huh?" Why did it feel like she already knew all the rooms around his were taken?

Back at home, Kyousuke began tidying up.

Even though Utaha had already made her choice, he still cleaned the remaining rooms on the second floor.

Eriri was mad at him, sure — but in the end, she'd definitely come around and move in too.

That was just how things went.

It might sound cocky, but he was confident in that much. After all, there wasn't a girl he couldn't win over with a bit of effort.

Meanwhile, Kasumigaoka Utaha stood by the large floor-to-ceiling window, arms folded, her wine-red eyes quietly following the black motorcycle as it pulled out of the parking lot and disappeared into the city streets.

So... the real battle is finally about to begin.

She knew that house already had quite the lineup — Kyousuke's childhood friend, a girl from his elementary school, and other girls deeply connected to him.

But there wasn't an ounce of fear in her heart.

Sure, that brat Eriri would definitely throw a fit, but Utaha? No.

Truly remarkable people were bound to attract others — and the kind of man she had her eyes on... was exactly that kind of strong, irresistible force.

Her goal was simple: drive the other girls away from Kyousuke, one by one.

Of course, it had to be done with finesse.

Kyousuke wasn't the type to fall for anyone rude. She'd also have to be careful not to overdo it — his heart was too soft, too kind.

There was no need to pack right away.

Instead, she strolled into her massive walk-in closet, light steps full of anticipation.

Tomorrow's outfit was a mission-critical decision.

First impressions mattered — she had to leave a mark that would never fade.

The black-haired, red-eyed girl had thought through almost everything.

Almost.

What she didn't account for… was just how much that grown-up doujin artist had changed.