Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [98]

That night, after dinner at a random Western-style restaurant, Kitahara Takeru and the other three parted ways and headed home.

This time, instead of taking the train, Kitahara got into the car that had come to pick up Shijō Maki.

A Maybach 62s.

Kitahara’s favorite model.

Maybe the Maybach wasn’t the fastest car in the world, but it was the only one to ever race out of the Nibelungen.

He truly believed—there wasn’t a single guy alive who could refuse a Maybach on a rainy night.

“Takeru, don’t be mad anymore, okay? I didn’t mean to!”

“Both Nagisa and Tsubasa were right there, what was I supposed to do?”

“Please don’t be angry, I’m begging you!”

Inside the car, Shijō Maki clung to Kitahara’s arm, shaking it wildly, switching between whining and fake-crying.

If Shijō Tei saw his older sister acting like this, he’d probably think she’d been replaced by a doppelgänger.

Because the real Shijō Maki never treated him with this kind of gentleness.

Even when she needed something, her approach was more like: “Little brother, kneel. Big sis has something to discuss with you.”

Of course, the teary-eyed, dramatic side of Shijō Maki—only Kitahara had ever seen it.

Not even Kashiwagi Nagisa had.

Kitahara gave her a sideways glance. Seeing her pitiful little face, he sighed. “It’s whatever. I’m not really mad.”

Was he mad? Not exactly.

It was just a scapegoat situation.

Besides, whether it was Watanabe Takeru’s mess or not, what did that have to do with him, Kitahara?

“But what about you—what are you going to do now?”

She couldn’t get Tsubasa when she was single.

And now she had this new identity: Watanabe Takeru’s girlfriend. How was she going to get close to him now?

“I thought it through,” Maki slumped over like a deflated balloon. “I really can’t bring myself to steal someone else’s love.”

“You’re giving up?”

“Mm. I’ve decided to go with the flow. Let things unfold naturally.”

Her moral compass was just too strong—she couldn’t bring herself to be “the other woman.”

Kitahara had long seen this coming. It didn’t surprise him in the least.

“But now that I have this status, I can openly invite Nagisa and Tsubasa to hang out. I can chat with him every day.”

“To me… that’s its own kind of happiness.”

For Shijō Maki, just being able to talk to Tanuma Tsubasa was enough to make her happy.

“…So I’m going to have to tag along every time now, huh?”

The moment Kitahara realized that from now on, every weekend would involve him going with Maki to meet up with Kashiwagi Nagisa and Tanuma Tsubasa, his head started pounding.

He really didn’t want to see Nagisa again.

Shijō Maki put her hands together and begged him. “Please, Takeru.”

“I need to work.”

“Then quit. I’ll support you.”

She pulled out a card and handed it to him.

“This card gets topped up with a million yen every month. That should be enough so you don’t have to work yourself to death.”

Kitahara was sorely tempted, but still said, “That doesn’t feel right…”

“What’s not right about it? Just think of it as working for me.”

Without giving him a chance to argue, she stuffed the card into his chest pocket.

Kitahara tried to push it back a few times—but somehow, today, this 80-kg bench press brute just couldn’t outmuscle Shijō Maki. In the end, the card stayed right where she put it.

“Besides, you’re my boyfriend now—how can I let you go do some part-time job? That’d be so embarrassing if word got out,” she added with a mischievous grin.

Kitahara thought of Tanuma’s usual demeanor and mimicked his bashful expression. “But… it’s just pretend.”

Shijō Maki stared at that face—so similar to Tsubasa’s—and lost herself for a second.

She slowly lifted her porcelain-like right hand and gently traced Kitahara’s brow, his eyes, his nose, his lips… Her voice went hoarse with a soft haze of longing:

“…Actually, it could be real.”

Kitahara’s heart skipped a beat.

What does that mean?

What do you mean ‘could be real’?

---

“Come again soon.”

Carrying her late-night snack, Nakano Miku stepped out of the convenience store, holding Tiny’s leash.

The stars were faint; the moon hung low. A gentle glow poured across the street like a veil of water. The branches behind the walls swayed in the shadows, like underwater weeds dancing beneath a lake’s surface.

It was 8:30 p.m.

Normally, Miku would never be out this late.

But ever since she started walking Tiny, she didn’t feel scared anymore.

Because Tiny would protect her.

Thinking of that, she glanced down.

At her feet, a black-and-white border collie with sleek, soft fur and a long, nimble body stood alert, scanning the street.

Miku’s heart warmed.

Of course, what she didn’t know… was that Tiny wasn’t protecting her.

He was looking for Kitahara Takeru.

Damn it, poop-shoveler. Didn’t we agree this was the place to start the show?

Where the hell are you?

“Come on, Tiny.”

She took a few steps forward, but Tiny didn’t budge. Head tilted, she blinked in confusion.

Tiny hesitated for a moment.

Then his nose twitched—he caught the scent.

His head snapped up. In the distance, he saw Kitahara Takeru striding toward them, bamboo sword in hand.

“Woof woof!”

Good. The cast is all here. Time for Tiny-sama to shine.

Two sharp barks, and suddenly, from the darkness, seven or eight fierce-looking dogs leapt out.

A German shepherd, a shar-pei, a shiba inu, a husky, a poodle, a chihuahua…

“Woof woof woof (Alright, Tiny, how are we playing this?)” the chihuahua yipped first.

“Woof woof woof (You little punk, who gave you permission to call him Tiny? It’s Tiny-sama to you!)”

The lead German shepherd cuffed the chihuahua with a paw and then snarled, barking ferociously at Tiny and Miku.

Miku gasped and backed into a wall, frozen.

She had no idea—these were all Tiny’s personal crew.

Thanks to his smarts and constant generosity with gourmet canned dog food, Tiny had earned the title Tiny-sama across the entire Bunkyō ward.

In the house? Sure, you can call me Tiny.

But once we’re out in the streets? You best address me properly.

This is Bunkyō turf—ask around. I run this place.

Tiny stepped in front of Miku and barked at his boys: “Woof woof woof (Bite soft, no real damage. Everyone gets a can if this works out.)”

Confident Miku couldn’t understand, Tiny calmly ran through the plan.

He gave the signal, and the dogs launched.

Fur flew. Teeth flashed. The fight looked wild.

But there was zero actual harm.

To Nakano Miku, though, it was a brutal battle—her loyal Tiny squaring off against a savage German shepherd to protect her.

As Kitahara approached, Tiny judged the timing and signaled the German shepherd to send him flying.

The shepherd obeyed. One solid body slam—and Tiny hit the wall.

…Or rather, he jumped into the wall himself.

He slammed in with a dramatic thud, then made a show of trying to stand, failing again and again.

“Tiny!”

Seeing her beloved dog hurt trying to protect her, Miku ran to him without a second thought, cradling him tightly in her arms.

“Woof…”

Tiny let out a weak whimper, sneaking a glance at Kitahara out of the corner of his eye.

Now it’s your cue, poop-shoveler.

The pack of dogs circled Miku and Tiny, baring their teeth, snarling, slowly advancing.

“No… please, no.”

Miku clutched Tiny close, fear etched across her delicate features.

Just as she squeezed her eyes shut—

A figure stepped in front of her.

The night outlined the silhouette of a tall, lean young man.

Instinctively, Miku looked up.

Under the streetlamp’s gentle glow, she saw silver-white hair, onyx-black eyes. A boy in a black pullover hoodie, one hand casually in his pocket, the other gripping a wooden practice sword.

---

T/N: skull emoji

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!