Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [101]

Kitahara Takeru tucked the playing cards away, glancing at the dark-haired beauty before him.

“I think I’m pretty funny.”

The girl in front of him wore a pale yellow sleeveless cardigan, the hem reaching her thighs. Underneath was a simple, lightweight one-piece dress, cinched just below her chest with a satin ribbon that highlighted a slender waist so delicate it looked like it could be encircled by a single hand.

Her feet were in strapless heels, revealing toes that were round, pale, and carried the glossy sheen of polished jade.

Yukinoshita Yukino. Her name suited her perfectly.

With a face both delicate and icy, porcelain-white skin, shoulder-length black hair, long and proportionate limbs, a graceful waist, and flawless curves, she looked like she’d stepped right out of a painting.

Her chest might’ve been as flat as the Kantō Plain, but aside from that small imperfection, there was nothing to criticize.

Even Kitahara, whose eyes had long since grown numb to pretty girls, couldn’t deny: in terms of sheer beauty, Yukinoshita was in a league of her own.

Even when compared to Shinomiya Kaguya, Kasumigaoka Utaha, Sawamura Spencer Eriri, or Kitagawa Marin—he still found her more beautiful.

In a Chinese webnovel, she would’ve been the unforgettable first love, the white moonlight all male leads dream of—the moment she stepped onto the page, she’d steal the world’s breath away.

“Looks like you really don’t have a sense of humor,” Yukinoshita said, gaze lingering on his hair as she rested her chin on her hand and tilted her head mock-thoughtfully.

“What happened? Harassed a girl and the cops shaved your head?”

“If you think your eyes are useless, please donate them to someone who needs them.”

He looked this good—obviously he was the one getting harassed.

“Also, when someone ugly hits on someone, that’s called harassment. When I do it, it’s called flirting. Learn the difference.” Kitahara raised his Sony a9m3—a Trump-certified camera—and aimed it at the eagle.

As always: For professional cameras, I choose Sony.

If AR can’t lock your head, Sony will.

If this were a Nikon, it’d probably focus on the bullet instead.

“You’re really just a pretty face,” Yukinoshita said coldly, eyeing the brand-new camera in his hands.

She clearly remembered this guy once arguing with the principal over financial aid issues at Sōbu High.

In the end, he’d transferred to Aoba because they offered a better package.

Now? Not even six months later, he could afford a pro camera?

“Are you implying that looks are all I have? What about brains?”

“Brains? Yours, in front of me?”

Yukinoshita brought a hand to her lips to hide a chuckle.

“I ranked third nationwide on the mock exams. What was your rank?”

Click.

Kitahara snapped a photo. Didn’t like the angle. Adjusted.

“Using grades to measure intelligence only proves your lack of it. Narrow-minded, Yukinoshita-san.”

“People who aren’t that smart often say things like: ‘Grades don’t determine a student’s future.’ It’s how they comfort themselves.”

Kitahara didn’t get it. If not grades, then what do you compare students by?

“Well, since you’re so sure, I don’t mind letting you see the difference between a genius and the average.”

Damn. This shot’s perfect.

The lighting, the framing—just chef’s kiss.

Thrilled with his work, Kitahara’s mood improved. “Music, sports, academics—take your pick. I’ll beat you at any of them. And no, that’s not bullying.”

Yukinoshita paused, genuinely considering it.

She’d only meant to mock him out of habit.

Even if this guy’s views on life, values, and aesthetics were utterly unsophisticated, and he lacked breadth of knowledge or cultural literacy—she had to admit, annoying as he was, Kitahara Takeru was a remarkable person.

His musical talent was unquestionable. That video of him singing? Went viral, full of praise.

He even beat her in academics.

The only area she hadn’t seen him show off in—was sports.

But…

She thought of her own stamina stat and winced.

She knew herself well.

If it came down to technique, she had confidence. But when it came to stamina? No escaping that weakness.

“No rush. Let me know when you’ve decided,” Kitahara said casually as he strolled toward another exhibit.

Yukinoshita silently followed.

After a few steps, Kitahara slowed and glanced back, as if sensing something.

Yukinoshita immediately dropped her gaze to the exhibit guide in her hands, nodding solemnly like a student pretending to understand a math problem they totally didn’t get.

Kitahara eyed her suspiciously, then turned back around and kept walking… only to suddenly spin around.

Too fast—she didn’t have time to react.

Caught red-handed.

Yukinoshita quickly turned her face away.

“You lost or something?”

Her expression twisted like she might commit seppuku on the spot.

She hated showing this kind of weakness—especially in front of him.

Her eyes fell back onto the guide, now with open resentment.

“Don’t you have a map?”

“This thing is completely false advertising.”

She’d arrived earlier than him, too.

She was there when the doors opened.

Yet somehow, even following the guide, she kept ending up back where she started.

“Let me see.”

Instinctively, Yukinoshita held the map out—then, halfway through, paused and yanked it back.

She was quick, but not quick enough. Kitahara caught a glimpse of what she was hiding:

A massive red circle drawn around the cat exhibit.

“You really like cats that much? What’s so great about them?”

Kitahara genuinely didn’t get it.

He’d raised a cat before.

They weren’t affectionate. Skittish. Aloof. Barely acknowledged you—and their poop stank to hell.

Seriously, why the hell did something that small produce something that disgusting?

Dogs were different. Feed them for a few days and they’d wag their tails whenever they saw you.

Yukinoshita paused in folding the guide, stunned. “You don’t like cats?”

Her look said it all—as if he’d just confessed to murder.

“…Is that weird?”

“I have nothing to say to someone who likes dogs,” she said icily, turning away to show him the back of her head.

“…What a coincidence. I can’t stand people who like cats.”

Kitahara brushed past her, thinking: So this is why we don’t get along.

One’s a dog person, the other a cat person.

Dog lovers thought cats were moody and rude.

Cat lovers found dogs clingy and noisy.

No wonder they always argued.

After the bird zone came the small animal area.

Rabbits, ferrets, hamsters—crowds gathered around the tiny, fluffy creatures.

Kitahara wandered through, snapping photos of the ones he liked.

When he turned around, he saw Yukinoshita crouched near the small animal pens, gently petting each one—pausing with each stroke, tilting her head slightly as if mentally comparing them to cats.

“Some people say they have nothing to say to dog lovers,” Kitahara said, appearing behind her, “yet their body’s honest enough to follow me here.”

Yukinoshita stiffened. She’d been caught.

Still crouching, she looked up at him—only to see the mocking glint in his eyes, the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“…How adorable.”

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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!