She got into the car and pulled off her mask.
In the rearview mirror, Akari Hojo watched Alan standing exactly where she had left him.
A small, peculiar smile curved her lips, nothing like the gentle warmth she had shown him monts ago.
Once he vanished from sight, she leaned forward, pulled a bag of ice from the compartnt beneath the seat, wrapped it in a towel, and pressed it to her eyes.
Half-reclined against the leather, Hojo replayed the image of Alan standing there, choked and speechless. The sweetness of it spread through her chest like warm sake.
She had lied to him, just not about being "surrounded by people."
As for Aunt Hakari discovering the breakup? That had never been an accident.
If Hojo had wanted to deflect Aunt Hakari, a simple I’m swamped with work would have ended the conversation. Instead, during one phone call, she let her voice tremble, allowed a few tears to slip, and deliberately caught her breath mid-sentence.
Aunt Hakari had bitten the bite imdiately.
From there, it was effortless. She nudged the conversation toward Alan, "accidentally" dropped a hint, then unfolded the entire story of their breakup. Aunt Hakari, distraught and furious on her behalf, handed over every detail Hojo needed about Alan’s life.
Maybe she’d been too gentle with him when they were together.
In his farewell letter, he’d even had the audacity to write: Let’s cool off for a while. Don’t upset Aunt Hakari.
Selfish. Laughable.
At first, Hojo had obeyed. No calls. No visits. No upsetting Aunt Hakari.
But as the weeks dragged on, the ache only sharpened. Ti heals all wounds? Ridiculous. Her wound had festered.
Every night she dread of him. Every morning the breakup letter waited on her nightstand like a slap to the face.
Yearning was a sweet poison, crashing against the cliffs of her heart like seawater. Salt seeped into every cut until she cried herself empty.
She was addicted to the mories of them together. Each day apart felt like withdrawal. Whatever agony she had endured, Alan would taste it too.
That was why she hadn’t scread or raged at him today.
A few harsh words and walking away, too light a punishnt.
Alan wasn’t made of stone.
The coward had fled with a letter instead of facing her. And he wasn’t cold enough to fake every tender, intimate mont they had shared. If he were, he should’ve aid for an Oscar instead of wasting his ti on her.
Tonight, he would lie awake, twisting in regret.
She wouldn’t wish him more pain than that. She still loved him too much to break him completely.
Hojo’s gaze softened as mories flooded back.
As for his new girlfriend—irritating, detestable—Hojo had no interest in even learning her na. Alan would return to her eventually.
Aunt Hakari. Uncle Shin. His old friends. They were all on her side.
What chance did that girl have?
Still, the current "girlfriend" needed a quick check. Hojo would make sure the girl wasn’t carrying sothing disgusting. The thought alone made her stomach churn.
Months of agony finally loosened their grip. Relief sank into Hojo’s bones.
Alan was both poison and antidote.
Yet more than tornting him, she needed to know why he had left without warning.
She pressed the ice harder against her eyes, the towel growing damp.
"I have a girlfriend now."
His words echoed.
A hazy figure surfaced in her mind, a girl gripping a sword, eyes blazing with unyielding resolve.
Nino Kitagawa.
"That bitch..."
A spark flared.
Hojo sat bolt upright, yanked the towel away, and stared straight ahead, eyes wide, as if the answer had just revealed itself.
***
"Alan, are you free this Saturday afternoon? Everyone wants to et you..."
The phone on the table lit up.
Alan glanced at Nozomi’s ssage and ignored it.
Two things weighed heavily on his mind.
The roadmap for turning Nozomi Sakura into a star.
And the upcoming weekend, when he would have to face Aunt Hakari and explain why he and Hojo were over.
The roadmap was already underway, agency contracts, coaches, a tailored curriculum, audition boot camps. Thirteen million yen spent.
Another ten million sat untouched in his account, plus whatever rewards the system would grant, Nozomi’s skill bonuses, and future script earnings.
Financially, it was pure profit.
Within two or three years, Nozomi would explode in popularity. By graduation, Alan could buy a decent condo in Tokyo and live comfortably off interest alone.
All he needed was Nozomi’s consent.
Easy enough. Drop the right hints, dangle the right rewards, and she’d follow the script.
The real headache was Aunt Hakari.
What excuse would she accept? That he’d fallen for soone else? That they simply weren’t compatible?
She would accept neither.
After a minute, Alan gave up. He’d play dead at in boiling water, sit there and take the scolding. She wouldn’t actually skin him alive.
She wouldn’t... right?
Still...
Slumped on the couch, Alan couldn’t forget Hojo’s furious eyes from earlier.
"You’re too cruel!"
Was he?
Maybe.
But love alone couldn’t pay bills. Financial freedom ca first.
Besides, he had already admitted he was seeing Nozomi Sakura.
There was no cure for regret, and Alan had no intention of turning back.
Ding.
A ssage from Hojo appeared.
"Alan, I’m sure you don’t want to go ho either. I’ve explained everything to Aunt Hakari. You don’t have to worry."
"...."
He stared at the screen, thumb hovering.
Then the phone rang.
Caller ID: Akari Honne.
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