Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [115]

Handkerchief… handkerchief… got it!

A flash of inspiration lit up Kitahara Takeru’s mind.

His voice dropped, turning low and heavy.

“Eriri… are you sure that handkerchief is the one you gave me?”

Wait—could it not be?

Eriri had been completely certain that the handkerchief in her hand was the very one she’d gifted Watanabe Takeru.

But the moment she heard him say her surname—“Sawamura”—in that cold, unfamiliar tone, doubt crept in.

She began inspecting the handkerchief again, this time more carefully.

Perfect.

On the other end of the line, Kitahara smirked, his plan going off without a hitch.

He’d gambled that Eriri wouldn’t remember the finer details of the gift.

Unlike the scarf Kasumigaoka Utaha had knitted and never delivered—this handkerchief had been given directly.

But!

His handkerchief wasn’t like some carefully chosen, heartfelt item from a romance novel.

This was the equivalent of White Day obligation chocolate.

One girl makes handmade honmei choco for the guy she loves.
Another girl buys a generic one from a convenience store.

Eriri’s gift? The latter.

It was something she happened to see while shopping with her mom, thought was “cute enough,” and bought without much thought.

She might still remember the color… but the specific embroidery or pattern?

No way.

She’d simply assumed it was the same one—because she already believed he had betrayed her.

Kitahara paused for effect, then deliberately sniffled—loud enough for both Eriri and Maki to hear.

His voice turned soft, hurt, and mournful.

“Eriri… how could you mistake your own gift like this?”

He spoke slowly, quietly—but every word dripped with a deep, aching sorrow.

“Was it because you gave it to me that you didn’t care at all?”

“I… no, I…”

Eriri reflexively wanted to deny it—but halfway through, she faltered.

Because suddenly, she remembered.

Yeah. She had bought that handkerchief casually, on a whim, while shopping with her mom.

“You remember every gift you gave Aki Tomoya, right? You could even tell me the exact dates.”

“But the handkerchief you gave me… you can’t even recognize it.”

“The difference between love and indifference is pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

Kitahara didn’t bother with logic or moral arguments.

Because arguing with women? Pointless.

Girls talk feelings. Guys talk logic.

So fine—if we’re abandoning reason, then he could really go off.

“Eriri, you keep accusing me of two-timing. Of betraying you.”

“But did you ever think… that from beginning to end, we were never together?”

“No official relationship—so what’s there to betray?”

“Even if I was with someone else, you have no right to scold me.”

“And more importantly, the one who’s two-timing here… is you.”

Then he hung up.

Eriri remained frozen, phone still pressed to her ear. She didn’t even realize the call had ended.

“…Tch. What a bitch.”

Maki, who had listened in on the entire exchange, gave Eriri a disgusted side-eye and walked off.

She’s the one juggling two guys—and she dares play the victim?

As she walked back toward the ballroom, Maki pulled out her phone and started typing a message to Kitahara:

[Takeru, you won’t believe it. I ran into the dumbest girl today…]

Kitahara looked at the screen, smirking slightly.

Those last few lines hadn’t just been for Eriri—they were also aimed deliberately at Shijō Maki.

He was betting that after this, no matter what Eriri claimed, Maki would never believe a word of it.

Even if Eriri one day presented hard evidence, Maki would question whether she forged it.

But ideally, things wouldn’t get that far.

I need to speed up the Nakano sisters’ route.

This couldn’t happen again.

He needed an exit plan—and fast.

But even exiting required the right timing. Like with Utaha, the key was to leave cleanly—so that the blame didn’t fall on him.

Hard?

Maybe for others. But for Kitahara?

It was easy.

Because the one who would unravel it all… was already in play.

Aki-kun, don’t let me down.

Kitahara cheered Aki Tomoya on silently in his heart as he carried a big, steaming bowl of pork rib and corn soup to the table.

“You took too long!”

At the table, Yozakura Hitomi—dressed in a white, frilled one-piece dress—swiped at her tablet without even glancing at him.

“Sorry. I had a call.”

“Who was it?”

Her question came off as naturally as a girlfriend checking her boyfriend’s texts.

“…Just a friend.”

A friend, huh?

Hitomi scoffed internally. He must think she’s really stupid.

But she said nothing.

Let him lie. Let him squirm.

Once she had him in her grasp, she would slowly tally up every sin—strip him down piece by piece, body and soul.

No rush.

First, lead the pig into the pen.

Then you slaughter it.

“Here, try it. See if I’ve lost my touch.”

Kitahara ladled a bowl of soup for her.

Hitomi didn’t take it. She simply stared at him.

“There’s no poison.”

To prove it, Kitahara took a sip himself.

“…You wouldn’t dare.”

Hitomi scanned him from head to toe, eyes dripping with disdain.

If this guy really had the guts to drug her, Kamikawa Rie would already be pregnant with his second child.

“Come on—what do you want from me?”

Kitahara raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

“What makes you think I’m asking for anything?”

Hitomi cut him off coldly.

“You won’t get a second chance.”

Kitahara hesitated for a few seconds. Then finally, he pulled out his phone.

“…So, uh. Can you help me find a handkerchief in this color?”

The drama hadn’t ended.

He planned to shoot a little video of the handkerchief and send it to Eriri—maybe guilt her into coughing up a few more gold coins.

Hitomi glanced at the screen. “Possible. But why should I help?”

“I pay my rent on time?”

Hitomi laced her fingers together, resting her soft chin on the backs of her hands. She smiled sweetly.

“You could try not paying.”

A shiver ran down Kitahara’s spine, like a human locked in the gaze of a southern cockroach.

“Dare I ask… what happens if I don’t?”

“…I drain you dry.”

“You’re so funny, Landlady.”

Kitahara laughed awkwardly.

Hitomi just smiled.

And smiled.

Until he stopped laughing—because she wasn’t joking.

“…Okay, what do you want? Just say it.”

“You promised me something last time, didn’t you? You said you’d do a full dogeza.”

“…Yeah.”

Thump.

With the sound of slippers falling off, Hitomi pointed at her right leg clad in pristine white socks:

“Then kneel and lick my foot. Do that, and I’ll get you your damn handkerchief.”

Kitahara glanced down at her feet:

Perfect arch, smooth heel, no visible callouses. Size 36–38, symmetrical toes, no bunions. Soft curve, pink undertones, natural polish.

Foot Rating: 98.

Verdict: Supreme-tier feet.

Kitahara looked back up, expression unreadable.

“You’ve made the benefits clear. Now tell me…”

“…What’s the downside?”

Hitomi: “???”

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T/N: its over he's fully become a foot lover

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!