Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [63]

From the rebellious biker gangs of the Shōwa era to today’s city streets, motorcyclists could be seen everywhere—young or old, they were a common sight.

In Japan, motorcycles had long since evolved beyond mere transport. They were a full-blown culture.

“Sir, we’ll notify you once your bike’s ready.”

At the dealership, Kamikawa Rie stood with her arms crossed and a thunderous expression, like someone owed her money and refused to pay it back.

But judging by the way the corners of her lips subtly curled upward, it was clear her mood wasn’t quite as bad as it looked.

Kitahara Takeru, on the other hand, looked a bit dazed.

To this moment, he still couldn’t comprehend how, just before stepping into the dealership, he’d firmly set a spending cap of 400,000 yen…

Yet after Rie dropped one “just add a little more” on the left and “why not bump the budget a bit” on the right, he ended up forking over 749,000 yen for a CBR250RR—a track-day dream for small-displacement racers.

If he hadn’t thrown down the cash when he did, he was pretty sure she would’ve sweet-talked him into spending his entire net worth on an R1.

Yeah. Never bring friends to help you buy a bike.

Kamikawa Rie had more sales game than the actual salespeople.

But hey, maybe this was just the curse of owning an engine.

In his past life, Takeru had been no different. He’d originally planned to get a simple commuter car under 100k. But none of them felt quite right, so he upped the budget a little—switched to the Xingyue L. Then he found himself wandering into the Audi section. And somehow, by the end of it, he was driving off with a BMW 3 Series.

Budget car?
Yeah right. Full cash became a down payment.

“What now?” Kamikawa Rie suddenly asked.

“Ah—oh, whatever’s fine.”

Takeru was still reeling from what had just happened.

“You said it!”

A mischievous glint sparked in Rie’s eyes as she dragged him to a hair salon. Throwing the door open, she called out:

“Master, give him a buzz cut.”

That’s what you get for siding with Shinomiya Kaguya.

That’s what you get for defending her.

This is the price of angering me, Kamikawa Rie.

The stylist blinked, a little unsure. “You sure? Buzz cut?”

Japanese guys were extremely particular about their hair. You almost never saw them with short styles—most wore longer cuts, always styled with wax or gel.

Only athletes or boys begging forgiveness ever got buzzed.

And this guy was hot. The stylist really didn’t want to do it.

How bad was the grudge here?

“Forget it, I’ll do it myself.”

Rie, impatient with the stylist’s hesitation, shoved Takeru into the chair herself, dramatically draped the salon cape over him, and picked up the electric clippers with a loud click-clack.

She dove in with absolutely zero technique.

Five minutes later, Rie found herself staring into the mirror.

Gone was the silky hair. In its place: clean, sharp features and thick brows, now fully unobstructed. Without the cover of hair, his handsome face looked even more rugged—neat, clean, sharp.

And she fell silent.

Wait a second.

Other guys get buzz cuts and look like prison escapees.

How come you turn into Edison Chen?

So you’re just… inherently hot?!

“Are you done being mad?”

Takeru grabbed a blow dryer, casually dusting off the loose strands from his head. He ran his hand across his freshly shaven scalp.

Huh. Feels kinda nice, actually.

The truth was—he’d shaved his head on purpose.

Wearing a wig in the blazing summer heat had nearly given him heat rash.

“…Nope.”

Contrary to expectation, Rie didn’t look satisfied at all. In fact, she seemed even more annoyed.

Not only had she failed to get her revenge, but she could clearly feel how the married women in the salon were now eyeing Takeru like hungry cats.

A few of them she even knew personally.

“What are you staring at?! Don’t you have husbands?!” she snapped, glaring at the women one by one.

Do you even remember you’re married?!

Have some shame—what would your husbands think?!

“Rie-chan, don’t be like that. Of course wild boars smell better than domesticated pigs,” one woman teased, clearly an acquaintance.

“Don’t you agree, Mrs. Sawamura?”

“Ah—yes,”

Caught off guard by the name drop, Sawamura Sayuri—who had been recording a video of her daughter getting her hair done—froze in place and instinctively nodded.

[Ding. Target detected—]

“Shut up.”

Takeru cut the system off before it could finish.

Every time he thought he’d figured out the system’s moral limit, it would happily break through to new lows.

Now it’s going after married women?!

It might as well rename itself from Stand-In System to Cao Thief Simulator.

Most things he could live with—but married women?

Hell no.

Because their husbands might actually kill him.

Besides, hanging out with married women didn’t hold a candle to dating cute high school girls.

Take them shopping, hold their hand—they were happy.

But aunties?

Aunties were wolves in silk scarves. They’d had a taste of the good stuff and were still in their prime.

They didn’t just want emotional support.

They wanted you—all of you.

And at that point, who was really using who?

Besides, giving your “first time” to a married woman?

Absolute loss.

Fun fact: in ancient nightclubs, virgins used to get cash bonuses.

“You—you people!”

Rie was fuming.

If they were her age, she’d have already gone off.

But these were her elders. She couldn’t just go nuclear.

So she yanked open her wallet, slapped some bills on the counter, and dragged Takeru out by the wrist.

Before he was pulled away, Takeru deftly swiped the 10,000 yen bill and stuffed it into his pocket, flipping two 500 yen coins onto the table on the way out.

He was starting to notice a pattern.

Rich people really loved flinging ten-thousand-yen notes around without asking the price.

Shijō Maki did it.

Kamikawa Rie too.

Honestly? He wished next time they’d just smack it across his face and call it a day.

“You’re probably ecstatic right now, huh.”

Rie dragged Takeru into a quiet alley, backed him up against the wall, and looked up at him like an angry little beast.

“Why are you always this pissed off?”

“Because of you!”

She glared furiously at the man in front of her.

Imagine if your girlfriend was constantly being ogled by other guys—how calm would you be?

Looking at her—frustrated, anxious, torn—Takeru hesitated a moment, then gently ran his fingers through her silky hair.

“Just stop, okay? It’s not too late.”

Wasting time on him… was pointless.

And he didn’t want to lead her on.

“Leave the pretty girl problems to pretty girls.”

Her expression had just started to soften under his touch—but the moment he spoke, she smacked his hand away.

Then she stormed off… barely two meters before turning right back around.

“…?”

Takeru looked at her in confusion.

Grumbling to herself, Rie reached out and interlocked their fingers. “Forgot to hold hands.”

Her sulky tone and blushing cheeks made Takeru chuckle.

“What are you laughing at? Don’t laugh!”

Rie scowled and raised her brows, trying to look fierce.

Except with her petite frame and puffed-up cheeks, she looked more like a yapping Pomeranian trying to intimidate its owner.

“Alright then. Where to next?”

“Love hotel.”

“…Come again?”

“I heard the beds are big. Good place to nap when you’re tired.”

“If you keep saying stuff like that, I’m going home.”

“Hmph!” she snorted, then pointed toward a crowd gathering nearby. “Let’s check that out.”

“Sure.”

The door to the dressing room creaked open. A man stepped inside—black sunglasses, a trace of stubble on his chin.

He looked toward the girl seated before the makeup mirror and said:

“You ready, Ai?”

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T/N: AI??? OMGGGG NO WAYH also... did he just get... NOOO THE HAIR

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!