Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [122]

“Eh? Shota-kun? Kota-kun? What are you doing here? Where’s Takeru?”

Kitagawa Marin and Gojo Wakana arrived at the designated meeting spot, but instead of finding Kitahara Takeru, they saw Shota Otani and Kota Tanaka squatting on the ground like disgruntled demons, oozing resentment like disgraced ghosts.

“He’s over there getting swarmed by girls!”

Otani pointed furiously toward Takeru—who was, indeed, surrounded by a circle of cosplayers, posing for group photos with one arm around each of the girls. The sheer bitterness radiating from Shota was enough to fuel a small army of evil cultivators.

Marin and Gojo followed his finger and blinked.

He really was getting smothered from all sides. One girl hugged him from behind; two others clung to either arm.

No wonder these two looked like they were dying inside.

Personal failure was one thing.

Watching your friend succeed like this? Unbearable.

Watching Takeru get all touchy-feely with that many girls was enough to make Shota and Kota grind their molars into dust.

This hurt more than death.

They could share in hardship—but not in unequal success.

Takeru spotted Marin and gracefully excused himself from the group, making his way toward her. “What took you so long?”

“Got held up taking pics with people on the way. Seriously, though—you’re ridiculously popular.”

Marin teased with a grin.

Takeru glanced at her indifferently, tone flat. “Let’s go. Time to shoot.”

“Shota, Kota—you guys help us out, okay?”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

The two snapped in unison.

Oh, now you need us?

We treat you like a brother, and you treat us like free labor?

Takeru shrugged. “What a shame. I was going to let you two pick through the contact info I don’t need. But I guess I’ll just give it to someone else now.”

“Dad!!” ×2.

The two of them dropped to their knees with a thud, offering him the highest title between men.

“Come on. Let’s head over there to shoot.”

“Okay! Wait—hold on. Is that… Is that Kashiwagi-sensei?”

Just as Marin turned to follow, she caught sight of a long queue forming nearby.

Her curiosity piqued, she glanced over—and her eyes widened when she saw the placard labeled Kashiwagi Eri.

“I can’t believe Sensei actually came to the con! This is huge!”

Her eyes sparkled like diamonds, and she started bouncing on the spot like an excited puppy.

“Takeru! Can we please wait a bit before we shoot? I want to get her autograph!”

Takeru didn’t break stride. “No.”

“Ehhh? Why not? I’ll be quick, promise!”

Marin latched onto his arm and shook it, switching to full-on spoiled-girl mode. “Pleaseee, Takeru! It’s my one and only lifetime wish!”

Takeru stopped walking and let out a long, weary sigh.

Marin’s face lit up. She thought she had him.

Hardly anyone could stay immune when she turned on the charm.

She was so focused on celebrating that she didn’t notice Shota and Kota quietly swallowing their nerves like soldiers facing a firing squad.

Takeru turned to her, face expressionless, gaze sharp.

“You want all of us to just stand here and wait around for you?”

“How big do you think your face is?”

“What time is it right now, tell me.”

Takeru hated people who wasted his time.

When he got angry, he didn’t raise his voice or throw tantrums—he just stared dead into your eyes and spoke with chilling calm.

But when he locked eyes like this—expression flat, eyes razor-sharp—the pressure was suffocating.

Marin felt her breath catch. The air around them seemed to freeze. She instinctively let go of his arm, standing stiff like a student being scolded by a teacher.

“…E-Eleven thirty.”

“We entered at nine thirty. It’s been two hours, and we haven’t shot a single photo. And now you’re negotiating with me?”

Takeru’s voice was icy and composed, but it cut like glass.

Marin’s face twisted—confused, nervous, and ashamed. Maybe… she had never been scolded like this before.

“You think I’m just hanging around with nothing better to do?”

“You think you can just act cute and I’ll cave?”

His tone didn’t pull punches. His words were sharp, and for once, completely devoid of warmth. Shota, Kota, and even Gojo stood frozen, afraid to breathe.

“You and I are equals. I’m not your anything—so don’t expect me to bend over backwards for you.”

“If you don’t want to shoot, just say it. I don’t have time to waste on someone who’s not serious.”

The sheer intensity of his words left Marin speechless.

Her head remained down, face hidden—but her fists clenched tight around the hem of her skirt, betraying her state of mind.

“…Sorry.”

Her shoulders trembled slightly. Her voice was barely audible.

Takeru’s tone returned to neutral. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t wait for anyone and walked ahead alone.

Shota and Kota quickly caught up.

“You think that was too much?” Shota whispered. “Marin looked like she was about to cry…”

Takeru shrugged. “What does that have to do with me? She’s not someone important to me.”

“If it wasn’t for you two dragging me to that mixer, we never would’ve even crossed paths.”

“You seriously think just because she knows us now, we’ll all live in the same world?”

They were students at the prestigious Aoba Private High, and bound for the top ten universities in the empire.

Their futures were already charted: doctors, lawyers, civil servants, elite white-collar careers.

She belonged to a different world.

As time passed, the distance between them would only grow—until one day, they’d be strangers again.

Why get emotionally invested in a temporary connection?

“Same goes for you two. Don’t melt just because a girl pouts or cries.”

“You act like that, and you’ll get played like puppets.”

Shota blinked. “So that’s why you’re popular?”

“No,” Takeru said flatly. “I’m popular because I’m hot. Has nothing to do with that.”

Brutally honest.

“No one’s going to look past your exterior to discover your heart of gold.”

“If you’re ugly, they won’t even want to talk to you.”

Even a story needs a beginning.

And if you’re ugly, there is no beginning.

Kota laughed bitterly. “Damn, you’re way too real.”

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“Then hand over that face of yours.”

“Can I have your skin? I’ll press 1.”

Shota: “1!”

Kota: “1111!”

...

Back at the booth, Gojo watched the three of them walk off and turned to Marin, concerned. “Are you okay, Kitagawa-san?”

“…I’m fine.”

Marin still kept her head down, shoulders trembling slightly.

Gojo’s worry deepened.

She must be really upset, he thought. Getting scolded like that in front of everyone…

But as he continued to fret, Marin’s cheeks were burning red—and she squeezed her legs together shyly.

She didn’t have the heart to admit the truth:

Takeru yelling at her kind of… turned her on.

---

T/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I UNDERSTAND U GIRL

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!