26 - Azuma bad taste! Yoko Okino panicked!

"Sakaki-san, the usual," Yoko Okino said as she sat down, addressing the izakaya owner.

The regulars greeted her with a nod before resuming their own chatter, unfazed by the presence of an idol star.

"Miss Yoko, didn't expect to see you again so soon," Azuma Shoyo said, glancing at her as she took the seat next to him.

"Oh! It's you—Mouri's daughter's classmate," Yoko replied, clearly surprised to run into him here.

She'd been coming to this izakaya since her early days in the workforce. Even after hitting it big, she'd drop by now and then.

As a nationally famous idol, Yoko had tasted every gourmet dish imaginable.

But this place? It wasn't about the food—it was nostalgia.

Stepping in here took her back to those old days.

Plus, the regulars were used to her. No one hassled her while she ate.

These weren't starry-eyed kids—years of grinding in the real world had dulled any impulsive fandom. A big star like Yoko sitting nearby? Mild curiosity, at most.

After seeing her enough times, even that faded.

"Just back from the station, Miss Yoko?" Azuma asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, gave my statement and came straight here. Haven't had dinner yet, so I figured I'd grab something."

The real-life Yoko wasn't the polished, ever-smiling screen idol. Right now, she looked drained—worn out by the whole Akiyoshi Fujie mess.

"Case closed?" Azuma asked.

"Yep, finally over!" Yoko said, exhaling in relief.

It sounded like she was glad to be cleared of suspicion, but Azuma knew she was also relieved to be rid of Fujie's baggage.

"Congrats, Miss Yoko. No more headaches from that guy," Azuma said with a grin.

"You—what do you mean?" Yoko's eyes flickered with guilt as she looked at him.

Azuma leaned in, lowering his voice. "Fujie was hounding you nonstop, right? Kept hitting you up for cash. Now he's dead, and you're off the hook for murder—two birds, one stone, huh?"

"You—"

Yoko stared at him, stunned. How did he know she'd paid Fujie off?

"Shh! Not so loud. Relax, I'm not blabbing. I'm not Fujie," Azuma said, sitting back like nothing happened.

The other patrons, lost in their own talks about work and life, didn't notice their odd exchange.

Yoko's mind was a mess.

This kid—a student, no less—knew her secret.

He might be young now, but who's to say he wouldn't turn into another Fujie someday, bleeding her dry?

Harsh truth: despite years in the entertainment biz, had she really made bank?

Those management companies were leeches.

That 10-year contract she'd signed back in the day? A 5-million-yen gig barely left her with 1 million after the cut.

Over the years, her earnings had gone to a house, two cars, hush money for Fujie, and keeping up her glamorous image.

Savings? Forget a billion yen—she didn't even have 50 million!

She'd just shaken off Fujie, that parasite, and now—another one?

She couldn't take it!

Azuma's claim he wouldn't be like Fujie?

Yeah, right. She wasn't some naïve kid who'd buy that.

Over there…

Yoko sat, rattled, mulling over how to handle this.

Azuma, though? He wasn't scheming.

Blackmail Yoko? Him—a freaking Superman—needing to stoop that low?

With the Kryptonian tech in his head, he could whip up something and rake in enough cash for lifetimes.

So…

Yoko's paranoia? All in her head. Azuma meant it—he wasn't spilling her secrets.

Why'd he bring it up, then?

Pure mischief.

He wanted to see her freak out—figured it'd be funny.

And it was. Her shocked face? Priceless.

That's where it ended, though.

Soon…

Yoko's food arrived.

She picked at it, barely eating.

The sake, though? She downed that flask in two gulps.

Drinking too fast, her cheeks flushed—a light buzz kicking in.

"Sakaki-san, another sake," she called.

Sakaki brought it over, eyeing her. "Something bothering you, Miss Yoko?"

"Yeah, work stuff," she nodded, keeping it vague.

The second flask vanished just as quick.

Yoko could usually handle three or four without blinking if she paced herself.

But tonight, chugging two in a row left her head spinning slightly.

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