Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [127]

“Let’s take a break.”

After more than two hours of shooting, Kitahara Takeru wiped the sweat from his face as he made the suggestion.

Everyone — Marin Kitagawa included — collectively breathed a sigh of relief.

Takeru chugged the remaining half-bottle of water and wiped his mouth. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

They’d been busy since noon and hadn’t had a single bite.

Ōtani Shōta didn’t even bother checking if the ground was clean; he just plopped down and groaned, “Takeru, just go get the food yourself. I can’t even lift a finger right now.”

“Sure.”

Takeru nodded, then looked to Marin and Gojo Wakana. “What about you two?”

Marin, drained, muttered, “Don’t wanna move…”

Being a model wasn’t exactly easy work.

It was exhausting.

Especially when the photographer was Kitahara Takeru.

He was professional, meticulous — borderline obsessive. Every pose, every expression, had to be just right.

If he wasn’t satisfied with a shot, he’d have Marin hold a pose for ten, fifteen minutes straight.

And that wasn’t even counting the times he randomly activated his powers.

Marin had come to realize something: Takeru had the temperament of a true owner.

Unlike most guys who would recklessly max out the tremors and let her body ride the waves until she broke down with pleasure, Takeru knew how to play it.

Sometimes, his frequency was as gentle as a spring breeze.

Other times, it was a violent downpour — fast, harsh, overwhelming.

Just as her body teetered on the edge, he’d stop completely.

Then, once her body had started to settle, he'd hit her again out of nowhere.

He never let her adjust. Never let her relax.

Just like training a dog — keeping her hovering between pleasure and frustration, always wanting more, never getting quite enough.

By the end of the shoot, Marin was starting to drift. Her mind was foggy, her body sluggish.

No wonder he likes dogs…

Now she understood why Kitahara Takeru was so fond of them.

Gojo Wakana was just as tired, but he couldn’t bring himself to let Takeru carry five meals on his own. He pushed himself up and said, “Kitahara-kun, I’ll go with you.”

“Alright.”

Takeru didn’t argue.

He handed his camera and backpack to the group and left the venue with Gojo.

Japan had plenty of takeout-friendly restaurants. Takeru picked a nearby KFC.

He’d already placed an order for five family-sized chicken buckets on his phone along the way.

Once they arrived, there was only a short wait.

Takeru sat down and popped a piece of gum into his mouth. While chewing, he pulled out his phone.

As always, his inbox was overflowing — mostly messages from girls: Kamikawa Rie, Kashiwagi Nagisa, Shijō Maki, Watanabe Akari, Nakano Yotsuba, Shirogane Kei, Aoyama Nanami, Katsura Kotonoha…

Even Komi Shouko and Adagaki Aki had messaged him.

Komi’s message was… strange. It was just a single word: you. And then nothing.

Knowing her, she’d probably imagined a whole conversation, typed it out, deleted it, and then accidentally sent something by mistake with trembling fingers.

Adagaki Aki, on the other hand, had sent a lot of messages.

Since last night — non-stop.

But it was all one-sided. Takeru hadn’t replied once.

Not because he was full of himself or anything — in fact, he had messaged first last night:

[Takeru]: Ojou-sama, are you still awake?
[Aki]: Just about to sleep. What is it?
[Takeru]: Corn and pork rib soup.jpg
[Takeru]: Goodnight, ojou-sama.

What followed was a stream of furious voice notes and texts from Aki, all chewing him out.

Knowing her well, Takeru guessed she probably stormed downstairs and made her poor maid cook for her in the middle of the night.

He replied to a few people, then stopped.

There were simply too many to get through.

He scrolled, but still found no message from Eriri.

Not even from Kasumigaoka Utaha.

Oh — right. He’d deleted her.

He’d blocked her number too. He believed exes should disappear like they were dead.

Six more days…

He did the math in his head.

If Eriri didn’t reach out within a week, then there was no reason for her to still be in his contacts.

Between adults, silence was the most respectful farewell.

“Excuse me~”

As he texted Kamikawa Rie, a soft voice drifted into his ear.

Takeru and Gojo both looked up.

At some point, a short-haired girl had appeared beside them.

Delicate features, slim frame, shoulder-length hair. She wore a blue-and-white sailor uniform and small leather shoes. A very cute schoolgirl, by all appearances.

“Can we help you?”

“Could I… get your contact info?”

“Sorry—”

Takeru was about to turn her down when the system window popped up:

[Target: Yasuraoka Hanabi]
[Age: 16]
[Intelligence: 7]
[Charm: 8]
[Stamina: 4]
[From: Kuzu no Honkai]
[Crush: Kanai Narumi]
[No boyfriend. Available for dating.]

The rejection froze on his tongue, veered sharply—

“Sure.”

“Huh?”

Hanabi had been bracing herself for rejection.

His tone was gentle, but there was a cool, distant energy about him.

She could tell — just a second ago, he’d meant to turn her down.

So why the sudden change?

Hanabi didn’t get it, but she still exchanged contacts with him. Before leaving, she bowed slightly and said, “Thank you!”

Polite and well-mannered. A well-behaved girl — on the surface, anyway.

But Takeru never judged people by appearances.

Just because Yasuraoka Hanabi looked sweet didn’t mean she actually was.

There’s a word for that: gap.

Girls who act like angels in public and transform into gremlins behind closed doors weren’t exactly rare.

That little interruption passed, and no one else approached.

Once the five chicken buckets were ready, Takeru and Gojo picked up the bags and headed out.

Just as they stepped outside, a familiar voice floated down from the second floor—

“Don’t make me do stuff like that next time. And don’t forget the ice cream you promised.”

“What? You’re seriously not into that guy? He looked like he was totally into you.”

“I’m not interested.”

“What if we pretend to be you while chatting, and he ends up falling hard for you?”

“Then that’s his bad luck~”

Gojo glanced up, then over at Takeru, whose face was unreadable.

Concerned, he asked, “Kitahara-kun… are you okay?”

“I’m great.”

Takeru looked up from his phone and smiled.

That smile was as radiant as ever — like no cloud in the world could dim its shine.

“Why do you ask, Gojo-kun?”

“No reason.”

Gojo figured maybe he really was fine.

But as he turned away, Takeru stole a glance upstairs, eyes glinting with something deeper.

You sit at the table thinking you’ll walk away clean?

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This is a fan translation of 不是说只拿我当替身的吗？by 雪碧加冰. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!