Chapter 58 – Are You Having Morning Sickness?

By the time Jinguuji Kanade returned to Jinguuji Akira's bedroom, quite some time had already passed.

Akira frowned slightly as the door opened and saw the girl walking in with quick, anxious steps.

"You okay? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?"

Kanade shook her head without a word and sat down across from him.

Her hand still clutched her phone tightly, and she looked even more tense than when she had first come in.

Akira studied her carefully for a long moment. Seeing that her complexion had regained some color and that her eyes were clear, she didn't look sick. He figured maybe being alone with him was just making her uncomfortable.

But then, recalling how Kanade had said earlier she was going to the bathroom—and stayed in there so long—he suddenly thought of something else.

"You're not… having morning sickness, are you?"

Akira stared at her in disbelief, his voice tinged with incredulity.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! This body is barely seventeen! There's no way I'm ready to be a dad—not to mention dragging around a kid!

Kanade's vision went dark. She almost fell out of her chair. She shot up to her feet, glaring daggers at Akira, her whole face flushed red with rage. It took her a few tries before she managed to choke out, "H-How could it be that fast?!"

Looking at Akira's astonished—yet vaguely amused—expression, Kanade nearly slapped him on the spot. If it weren't for her refined manners and upbringing, she might have sunk her teeth into this bastard right then and there.

This guy… he's still rubbing salt in the wound! As if doing all those horrible things wasn't enough—he has to remind her, like he's afraid she'll forget.

"Alright then, come on and eat. That stern face doesn't suit you at all. Even angry, you look way better than when you're all stiff."

Akira chuckled, leaving it unclear whether he was being serious or just messing around.

"Hmph."

Kanade shot him a suspicious glare, let out a cold snort, and then sat down again with her frosty expression. With an air of defiance, she grabbed the chopsticks and started shoveling food into her mouth from the plate.

Akira shrugged and handed her a bowl of rice.

Her Highness the Princess dug in like a soldier in the field. But soon, her rhythm slowed down. Years of strict etiquette didn't allow her to keep eating so crudely, and her pace returned to graceful, ladylike bites.

The food was delicious. This royal princess could really cook—far better than Akira, by a long shot. The two of them quietly ate their meal without talking. Every now and then, when Akira looked up and saw her elegantly nibbling on her food like a proper lady, he found his appetite growing.

They say beauty is food for the soul—and it's true. Watching a cute girl eat like that was pure visual bliss.

Japanese meals are typically small—just enough to be satisfying—so when they were done eating, there wasn't much left on the table.

"Just leave it there. I'll wash up later when I get the chance," Akira said, glancing at the messy table.

"By the time you get around to washing them, those plates and bowls will probably be ruined already."

With a sharp jab, Kanade snatched up the used dishes and stormed toward the door, stomping heavily as she headed down to the first-floor kitchen.

Seriously, how does someone like him write such emotionally rich, subtly melancholic novels? Kanade fumed inwardly. And on Twitter and his blog, he always sounds so gentle and playful... Tch. The internet really can't be trusted!

The image of a noble author overlapped with that of a loathsome scumbag in her mind, leaving her emotions hopelessly tangled.

Hearing the sounds of her footsteps downstairs, Akira eventually got up from the bedroom and made his way to the living room sofa on the first floor. From the kitchen came the sound of running water and clinking dishes.

To a stranger, the scene might even look a little heartwarming.

A husband resting in the living room after a long day, while his wife tends to the chores in the kitchen.

When Kanade finally emerged, she wiped her hands with a napkin she'd brought, picked up her small purse from the sofa, and headed toward the front door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Akira frowned and watched her as she moved.

"Home," she answered casually.

At the entrance, she slipped on her school boots.

Standing by the window, she glanced outside—it was already quite dark.

"How are you getting back?"

"Bus. Train."

Short and to the point.

"It's too late for that. It's dangerous for a girl to be out alone—I'll take you back."

"No need. Being with you is even more dangerous."

She shot back coldly, placing her hand on the doorknob—

Suddenly, she felt a strong grip tighten around her left wrist.

She panicked and tried to pull away, but her delicate arm was no match for Akira's strength.

"W-What do you think you're doing…?"

Her voice trembled with fear. Akira's face had gone stern, and she instinctively shrank back, her gaze flickering.

"Stop being stubborn. Wait here. I'm taking you home."

With that commanding declaration, Akira turned and bolted up the stairs.

Kanade hesitated at the door, debating whether to just leave. But the memory of Akira's serious expression made her hesitate. She was afraid to oppose him—afraid of being hurt again.

As she anxiously fidgeted with her fingers, Akira came back down wearing a jacket and holding a set of keys.

"Let's go. I'm getting the car."

Without even looking at her, he opened the door.

Hearing her quietly following behind, Akira couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

Is she a masochist or something? One firm word and she obeys instantly...

Little did he know—she wasn't submissive. She was afraid of him...

They reached the garage, and Akira had her sit in the passenger seat. Without delay, he started up the Ferrari FXX and sped out into the night.

"Where are you staying tonight?"

Glancing at Kanade, who sat clutching her bag with her seatbelt fastened, he asked.

"My home."

"So… the Imperial Palace, then?"

Before marriage, a princess lived in the palace. After marriage, she became a commoner and moved into civilian housing.

Traditionally, if a princess like Kanade were to marry, she would lose her claim to the throne and be forced to leave the Imperial Palace. But that only applied to marriages with commoners. When the current emperor started considering political marriages with Japan's real power—the zaibatsu conglomerates—he was already prepared to break with tradition.

In the old days, such a move would've drawn fierce opposition from the ministers. But now, who even cares about tradition? The palace and Tokyo itself were rebuilt after the war. The modern Japanese imperial family was essentially symbolic—stripped of all real power...

In a capitalist society, money rules all. Those with wealth become gods among men.

Even the Imperial Family is changing—because poverty has finally broken them.