[Chapter 3: The Dilemma of Hidden Identities (Day 93)]

 

Through the narrow gap of the open screen door, the chirping of cicadas mingles with a faint, cool breeze drifting into the shop.

It’s been roughly three months since the board game café “Kurumaza” first opened its doors. Tonight, the oppressive summer heat has mercifully eased, courtesy of a passing low-pressure system.

I, Tokiwa Kotarou, savor the gentle breeze teasing my bangs. With our café’s ancient ceiling-mounted air conditioner constantly straining at full tilt these days, letting in some fresh, natural air feels like a rare treat—

“So hot! Hey, Banjo, I’m cranking the AC, so shut the windows already!”

—until a brash gyaru bursts in, shattering the tranquil moment in an instant.

Takanashi Mifuru, the gyaru in question, strides over to the shop’s control panel with a grumbled, “Ugh, it’s sweltering,” and snatches a fan from behind the counter. She heads straight for me as I’m setting up a board game at one of the tables.

Plopping down heavily on the table beside me, she—get this—starts fanning her skirt in a way that’s dangerously close to flashing her underwear, cooling her glossy thighs. …Is this a thumbnail for some risqué video or what? The sight could unravel any teenage boy’s composure, leaving my head spinning. So much for the summer ambiance. Hello, hormonal chaos.

To keep my wits about me, I stand and reluctantly begin closing the shop’s windows. Meanwhile, Takanashi-san has no intention of lending a hand, still shamelessly flapping her skirt.

“Banjo, you’re always going on about ‘board games need humidity control’ or whatever, but you skimp on the AC when no customers are around, huh?”

“When it’s just me and I’m not breaking a sweat, I turn it off. Though I suppose someone who just stormed in might be feeling the heat.”

“If you get that, then keep it cool! You’re so dense.”

“What a legit terrible executive you are.”

Trading jabs like this, I finish shutting the windows for the AC and return to my seat… directly across from the brazenly exposed high school gyaru.

“Phew, I’m coming back to life!”

Basking in the cool air streaming from the ceiling, Takanashi-san flaunts her sweat-dampened nape, her arched back accentuating her figure, and those pale thighs.

It’s a scene practically begging to be labeled the textbook definition of “where do I even look?”

And, as always, Takanashi Mifuru is annoyingly perceptive in moments like these. Pinching the hem of her skirt, she flashes a mischievous grin.

“Oh? Did Banjo want me to stay all hot and bothered?”

Yes, it’s maddeningly delightful. Honestly, even without ulterior motives, seeing Takanashi-san—my crush—in such an alluring state is pure bliss. I’ll definitely be more mindful of saving electricity from now on. For SDG reasons, naturally. …Or so I tell myself.

“……”

Of course, I keep all that locked away, instead pushing up the bridge of my glasses with a practiced motion.

With a deep, measured sigh, I respond as calmly as I can muster.

“For me, ‘gain’ only matters when it’s tied to ‘victory points.’”

“Ugh, there it is, ‘victory points.’”

Takanashi-san’s exasperation is palpable. For context, “victory points” are just what they sound like—points that determine the winner in a board game. Unlike sports, where “points” might be straightforward, board games often involve resources like money or energy that don’t directly translate to victory, so “victory points” is the term to distinguish them.

“I swear, I only hear that phrase here.”

She spits the words out with disdain. Apparently, board game jargon is her kryptonite. Her teasing energy seems to fizzle out, and she finally stops her provocative antics. I exhale in relief.

Returning to my task of checking the board game rules, I strike up some casual conversation.

“By the way, Takanashi-san, don’t you think you should cool it with stuff like that, even if you’re just messing around?”

“Stuff like what?”

She tilts her head, the picture of innocence. Honestly, it’s her oblivious gestures—those unconscious, effortlessly seductive moves—that make her so infuriatingly cute, clawing at my heart. Seriously, please stop. No, wait, deep down, I don’t actually want her to stop. Ugh, I’m a mess. The only thing I’m sure of is that she’s absurdly adorable. That’s it.

But I keep that chaotic inner monologue under wraps, continuing as evenly as possible.

“You know, flashing your skin like that in front of other guys when you’ve got a boyfriend. Isn’t that… kinda iffy?”

“Guys? Hold up, it’s just you here, Banjo.”

“What am I to you, exactly?”

I’m starting to think she genuinely sees me as a hamster or something.

Takanashi-san laughs it off and presses on.

“Anyway, Banjo, you’re overthinking it. I’m doing it because I want to, y’know.”

“Even if you’re cool with it, your boyfriend probably wouldn’t be thrilled.”

“My boyfriend? Uh, well…”

Her response falters, uncharacteristically hesitant. It’s rare to see her with such a pensive look, but I recognize it. Because…

“(This is totally the face Takanashi-san makes when we’re playing bluffing games.)”

More precisely, it’s the exact expression she wears when she’s about to lie.

…For some reason, Takanashi-san always clams up when her boyfriend comes up.

At first, I figured it might be embarrassment or maybe a touchy subject, like trouble in paradise, so I avoided digging too deep.

But despite that, she’s quick to flaunt that she has a boyfriend. When I reluctantly engage, thinking she wants to talk or brag, she suddenly goes quiet.

She boasts about her boyfriend endlessly but freezes when it comes to specifics. She pushes when I back off and pulls back when I lean in. That’s been Takanashi Mifuru’s deal with her boyfriend for months.

“(…If I’m being honest, it’s super suspicious.)”

That’s my current take. What’s suspicious? Well… with a hefty dose of wishful thinking, I’d say it’s the very existence of this boyfriend. But asking her outright is, understandably, tricky. Still, I’m curious.

“Uh… by the way.”

Fiddling with a board game piece, I seize the moment to probe a little, keeping it light and half-joking.

“What’s your boyfriend like, Takanashi-san?”

“Huh? W-what’s he like… you mean?”

She’s visibly flustered, her eyes darting nervously. So suspicious. Way too suspicious. Normally, she’d fire back with a playful, “What, Banjo, you jealous? Ew, gross, lol!” or some cheeky jab.

But now, her face screams, “Please drop this topic.” It’s the same panicked look she gets in Werewolf when she’s about to get lynched.

Still, I don’t want to push her too hard. Keeping my hands busy with the game, I continue casually, like it’s just idle chatter.

“You know, like his name or age? Stuff like that.”

“He’s hot.”

“That’s the vaguest information reveal in history.”

“And… uh… you know, it’s, like… personal info, so.”

“Wow, a gyaru’s information literacy just skyrocketed.”

I mean, a guy whose only descriptor is “hot” and everything else is a mystery? Even the boss of the Black Organization has more details than that.

[T/N: Black Organization from Detective Conan. The leader’s identity was a long-running mystery in the series.]

Takanashi-san looks visibly rattled, her lips pursed, her gaze skittering away.

I don’t enjoy putting my coworker on the spot. Really, I don’t, but…

“(As someone who’s got a crush on you, this is a matter of life and death!)”

In that sense, I’m itching to dig deeper. But I also don’t want to upset her. Torn between those impulses…

“……”

An awkward silence settles over us. Neither of us can find the words to break it, so we end up fiddling with our phones. It’s pure torture.

Unlike Takanashi-san, who’s always buzzing through her SNS apps, my phone, as usual, is a notification desert.

With nothing better to do, I scroll through personalized news articles. Probably because my cousin got me hooked on “unsolved mysteries” videos, my feed’s been flooded with grim stories lately. It’s starting to weigh on me.

Sighing, I flick through the articles quickly until one finally catches my eye, more in line with my actual interests.

〈Women’s Meijin Utakata Tsukino Interview: “What Matters is ‘Play’”〉

It’s an online piece about a female shogi player. As a board game enthusiast, shogi, go, and chess are a bit outside my wheelhouse. Still, I vaguely recall looking up this “Utakata Tsukino” before.

Some customers mentioned she supposedly lives around here… in Ogikubo.

Those searches were mostly to humor their excitement, not because I was particularly invested in Utakata Tsukino myself.

But…

“……”

…Why is it that now, seeing her face in this recommended article, my finger freezes on the screen, and I find myself staring?

……?

Without thinking, I tap the article and study the large photo embedded in it. Sure, I’ve heard she’s considered “cute,” and I thought, “She’s pretty,” before.

But that’s all it was. To me, she was just another fleeting news story. Unlike those customers fantasizing about “maybe running into her since she lives nearby,” I never entertained such thoughts. Not because I’m above it—just that, back then, my heart was already set on Takanashi Mifuru.

So why am I suddenly glued to this article? I can’t make sense of it.

Hoping for clarity, I start reading the interview. …Honestly, she seems genuinely likable. Her emphasis on “play being important” really strikes a chord with me. So, yeah, her personality intrigues me. But…

“(……)”

…Before I know it, I’ve scrolled back to her photo, zoomed in, and am staring intently.

“……?”

What’s wrong with me? Am I more shallow than I thought? Even if she’s a “cute girl,” I can’t fathom why I’m so fixated. It’s just weird.

“(Is she, like, subconsciously my type or something? …No, but…)”

I glance at “the gyaru I’m currently head-over-heels for,” sigh at her overwhelming beauty, then shift my gaze back to the refined, elegant female shogi player.

“(That’s probably not it…)”

I’d like to think I know my own tastes, but this is beyond me. I didn’t fall for Takanashi-san just for her looks—it was our daily banter and moments together that won me over. So I’m not some “gyaru enthusiast” or anything.

Nor do I think I’m into the Yamato Nadeshiko type. Proof? The last time I saw an article about Utakata Tsukino, I didn’t react like this.

[T/N: The term “Yamato Nadeshiko” means “The personification of an ideal Japanese woman.”]

So…

“(What’s changed between then and now? Something about Utakata Tsukino…)”

…No matter how much I rack my brain, nothing comes to mind. I haven’t had any notable interactions with her fans, either. The only regular customer lately has been Utamaru-san, so……

……?

“(Wait, what’s this… Does Utakata Tsukino look like someone I know…?)”

For a fleeting moment, I feel like I’m onto why her appearance is suddenly pulling me in, but…

“Yo, what’s that? Banjo, what’re you staring at so hard?”

“Whoa!”

Before I realize it, Takanashi-san is leaning in, peering at my screen from right in front of me.

I instinctively shut off my phone and leap up from my chair to put some distance between us.

“N-nothing!”

“Nah, that’s definitely not a ‘nothing’ vibe.”

Takanashi-san, sensing gossip, wiggles her fingers and inches closer.

“What if it’s, like, a pic of your crush or something?”

“N-no, no, it’s not!”

Getting grilled by my actual crush throws me into a panic.

Judging by her expression, Takanashi-san’s suspicion only deepens. Her eyes shift into full-on “serious mode.” …This is bad.

That’s the look she gets when she’s ready to go all-out. The “I’ll wrestle that phone from you no matter what” look. She’s done it before during a board game, and it was… well, let’s just say it was a lot for my emotions—and my lower half.

“S-stop…”

“No need to be scared, Banjo. I’ll be gentle.”

Me, clutching my phone with teary eyes, and a gyaru breathing heavily. It’s a scene straight out of a crime in progress. …This is bad. Really, really bad in so many ways!

Just as I brace myself—the next moment.

“E-excuse me…”

The door’s bell chimes softly as a customer steps in hesitantly.

In an instant, we spring apart and snap into customer service mode.

““Welcome!””

“Eep!”

Our overly enthusiastic greeting overlaps, startling the customer. Exchanging sheepish glances, we hurry to approach them. And there, standing, is…

“Oh, welcome, Uta-chan!”

“Hello, Takanashi-san. Banjo-san, too.”

The regular female customer dips into a polite—no, almost reverently deep—bow. I return the gesture, offering a warm smile.

“Welcome, Utamaru-san. Thanks for dropping by as always.”

“N-no, I’m the one who should apologize for coming so often… It’s a bit embarrassing.”

Utamaru-san’s tone carries an odd note of apology. To the shop and to us, she’s nothing but a valued regular, so I can’t fathom what she’s sorry for. Still, I quietly appreciate this humble side of her.

It’s not exactly professional for a staff member to have favorites, but as a fellow board gamer, I deeply admire her approach and knack for games. In a different way from Takanashi-san, she’s someone I genuinely enjoy sharing a table with.

I always look forward to her visits……

…………

……?

“Um, Banjo-san? Is something on my face?”

“Huh? Oh, no…”

I realize I’ve been staring at Utamaru-san’s face, just like I was with that article earlier.

What’s gotten into me? Am I losing it or something? Baffled by my own behavior, Takanashi-san swoops in with a teasing jab.

“It’s all good, Uta-chan. The embarrassed one’s our Banjo here. The second you walked in, he was practically wagging his tail.”

“Huh?”

Utamaru-san glances at me, her cheeks tinting pink. Ugh, I’ve probably creeped her out as a café staff member. But it’s true, so I just flash an awkward smile.

“Takanashi-san’s just as thrilled to see you, Utamaru-san, right?”

“Hm? Yeah, totally!”

Takanashi-san’s grin stretches wide, and Utamaru-san returns a gentle smile.

We guide her to a seat, and the three of us settle around the table as usual.

Then, Utamaru-san makes an unexpected request.

“Um, if possible, I’d love to play something with lying or acting today.”

“Huh?”

It’s a surprising choice from Utamaru-san, who usually leans toward “low-luck, brainy games.” I’m thrown for a loop, but Takanashi-san lights up instantly.

“I’m so in for that! Like The Game of Saying ‘Huh’ or something!”

“What kind of game is that?”

“So, like…”

Takanashi-san dives into an explanation. Her rule breakdowns are, as always, a bit shaky, but her passion for the game’s “fun” shines through vividly. I can’t help but listen, completely drawn in. —Then.

“What do you think, Banjo-san? It does seem to involve ‘acting,’ but…”

Utamaru-san suddenly turns to me, catching me off guard. Crap. I was so wrapped up in Takanashi-san that I let my guard down.

“…I’d really like to hear your recommendation, too, Banjo-san.”

Somehow, Utamaru-san’s usually gentle voice feels a tad colder than usual. This is bad.

I take a breath to steady myself, think it over, and then speak up.

“How about Time Bomb?”

“Time Bomb?”

“Yeah. It’s a hidden identity game, like Werewolf, but it’s built to be fun even with just three players. It’s light, quick, and really well-designed.”

“Oh, that sounds intriguing. What are the rules like?”

“Basically, it’s a game where ‘the police work together to defuse a bomb!’ But during role assignment, some players are secretly terrorists who want the bomb to explode instead.”

“So, a traitor hiding among the police, right?”

“Exactly, like the werewolf in Werewolf. Here, the police are called ‘Time Police,’ and the terrorists are the ‘Bomber Gang.’”

“So the Bomber Gang has to act like they’re helping defuse the bomb while secretly pushing for it to blow up. Definitely a game of acting and deception.”

“Yup. What’s great is that even if the Bomber Gang gets exposed, the game doesn’t end there. Here’s why…”

At that point, the sharp-witted Utamaru-san picks up the explanation.

“Oh, because it’s not just about ‘finding the culprit’—it’s about ‘defusing the bomb,’ right? Even if the Bomber Gang gets caught, they can go all-out and aim for the explosion.”

“Exactly! They still have a shot to pull it off.”

Takanashi-san, who often gets outed as the Bomber Gang and goes full chaos mode, chimes in with a grin.

I pick up the explanation.

“Of course, on the flip side, it’s easier to make progress if others trust you, so knowing how long to stay undercover is where the Bomber Gang’s skill lies. Meanwhile, the Time Police can sometimes act shady on purpose to infiltrate the enemy’s ranks.”

“I see… That sounds perfect.”

A spark of curiosity and cunning flickers in Utamaru-san’s eyes. I exchange a nod with Takanashi-san and grab Time Bomb from the shelf.

While setting up, Takanashi-san lets out a groan.

“I love this game, but I’m kinda terrible at it.”

“Well, yeah, you wear your heart on your sleeve and talk way too much.”

“Right? To avoid slipping up, it’s best to just keep quiet.”

“So you do get it.”

I flash a wry smile, but inwardly, I’m impressed. She knows the trick to staying discreet but still chats away, probably to keep the vibe lively and make the game fun for everyone. It’s something I genuinely admire about her.

But at the same time…

“(She knows the key to lying is to avoid saying too much…)”

My mind drifts from the game to her caginess about her boyfriend. That guarded way she dodges details… it’s suspicious.

Caught in a faint hope tied to my feelings for her, I find myself staring at her profile. Then, Utamaru-san nudges me forward.

“Ahem. Banjo-san? Aren’t we starting the game?”

“Oh, sorry! Let’s go over the specific rules now.”

“Please do.”

And so, we pull ourselves together and dive into Time Bomb.

＊

About fifteen minutes into the first round of Time Bomb, the game is hitting its peak.

“Hehe, thank you for trusting me as a Time Police, Takanashi-san. I’m truly honored.”

Utamaru-san flashes a bold grin at Takanashi-san, her “partner” she’s been investigating with throughout the game.

“Uta… chan? W-what’s with that ominous vibe? No way…”

“Yes, exactly.”

With a sly smile, Utamaru-san, now holding the wire cutters thanks to Takanashi-san’s complete trust, moves to snip the wire guaranteed to trigger the “explosion.”

As she flips over the “explosion” card, Utamaru-san declares to Takanashi-san:

“I’m with the Bomber Gang.”

“Nooooooo!”

The bomb detonates at the very last second, and Takanashi-san clutches her head, groaning, before revealing her role card—a Time Police, naturally.

The board game café’s gyaru employee, outplayed in a textbook first round, stands defeated, thoroughly duped.

Takanashi-san shoots Utamaru-san a glare, her frustration palpable.

“Ugh, why, Uta-chan…! You seemed like such a serious girl…!”

“I’m sorry, Takanashi-san. But being your buddy was fun. Hehe.”

“Ugh… Uta-chaaaaaaaaaan!”

The socially savvy (in board games) gyaru, who underestimated the refined, innocent-looking girl, gets spectacularly outmaneuvered and lets out a wail. What is this, a scene from a webtoon ad? It’s hilarious.

Then, Takanashi-san’s gaze swings to me. Teary-eyed, she clings to my arm, whining, “Banjooo.”

“Uta-chan’s acting was insane!”

“Totally. I’m impressed.”

“Right?! Ugh, I’m so frustrated! Getting tricked this bad by a newbie!”

“Yup.”

“We’re such pathetic Time Police, aren’t we?”

“…We?”

I catch that last word. As Takanashi-san pales with a “No way,” I…

…grin and reveal my role card.

“I, too, am with the Bomber Gang.”

“No waaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy!”

Faced with the brutal truth, Takanashi-san sinks deeper into despair. Man, her reactions are, as always, pure protagonist energy. I adore that about her, Takanashi-san.

By the way, in a three-player Time Bomb, it’s not uncommon for two players to be Bomber Gang, making it a nightmare for the lone Time Police. Any seasoned player would see it coming, but Takanashi-san somehow gets shocked every time. She’s just so fun to play with.

And in a completely different way, there’s another person who’s a blast at the table.

I flash a smile at Utamaru-san.

“It worked out great, Utamaru-san.”

“Yes, Banjo-san. Thanks for supporting me by deliberately acting suspicious. It helped me gain Takanashi-san’s trust.”

“No, thank you for picking up on my cues and playing along by countering me.”

“The pleasure’s mine. That move completely hid our connection.”

We dive into a lively post-game breakdown, dissecting our strategies. Man, this is the best.

But Takanashi-san, watching us, starts to pout.

“I’m never trusting anyone again…”

“Come on, it’s not like your boyfriend got stolen by a friend.”

Losing one round shouldn’t spark such an emotional rollercoaster. Sure, that’s part of her charm, but today it feels extra intense.

As Utamaru-san and I share a wry smile, Takanashi-san, apparently miffed by that too, puffs out her cheeks.

“Isn’t it kinda unfair how chummy you and Uta-chan have been lately?”

It almost sounds like jealousy. I glance over, and Utamaru-san’s cheeks are faintly flushed. …For a second, I’m tempted to think I’m in some “popular phase.” But I can’t let myself fall for such convenient daydreams. That’s how you end up like Takanashi-san, betrayed by Utamaru-san just now—or like me, back when I got expelled.

I take a deep breath to steady myself and respond to Takanashi-san as calmly as I can.

“If you’re gonna say that, why not bring a totally reliable ally to the table?”

“? My ultimate ally? Who’s that? My grandma’s guardian spirit?”

“That sounds like an ultimate ally, but I doubt it can play board games.”

“Then my grandma’s Stand?”

“Don’t turn your family into supernatural entities for a board game. I meant…”

I hesitate but decide to push forward.

“You know… your boyfriend.”

I toss it out lightly but clearly. It might be a touch mean, but I’m not entirely serious. It’s just a way to slip back into our usual banter, turning the game’s grudges into playful fun so we can move on.

But my plan veers off course. Before Takanashi-san can fire back, Utamaru-san unexpectedly cuts in.

“Oh, Takanashi-san, you have a boyfriend?”

Her slightly out-of-character reaction makes Takanashi-san blink in surprise.

“Y-yeah, I do… What about it?”

“Oh, no, I just thought…”

Utamaru-san glances at me briefly before turning back to Takanashi-san. Neither of us is dense enough to miss the implication, like some rom-com manga character.

I’m secretly thrilled, but Takanashi-san shuts it down fast.

“Ugh, come on, Uta-chan, give me a break. I’ll ban you from the shop!”

“Ehh!?”

Utamaru-san looks stunned. I let out a sigh and jump in.

“With all due respect, Utamaru-san, I might’ve overestimated your sharpness a bit.”

“That’s actually super rude!”

Utamaru-san fires back with a sharp retort. But since we all know it’s in good fun, it doesn’t escalate. She apologizes.

“S-sorry. But, wow, Takanashi-san, you have a boyfriend…”

“You don’t have to sound that shocked. It’s kinda rude.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean anything by it! Uh, um…”

Utamaru-san groans, clearly flustered, before changing the subject.

“W-what’s your boyfriend like?”

“Boyfriend-sama, huh?”

Takanashi-san laughs, pauses with a thoughtful “Hmm,” and answers.

“Super hot.”

“There it is, the classic vague boyfriend info.”

I pounce on her response. As Takanashi-san pouts, I explain to a confused Utamaru-san.

“Utamaru-san, her boyfriend stories are like urban legends.”

“Urban legends…? Like nekomata, umibozu, or pillow-flippers?”

“Are you from the Edo period or something?”

Utamaru-san’s old-school references are, as always, oddly endearing. Hilarious, too.

While I’m chuckling, Takanashi-san steers the conversation back with force.

“What about you, Uta-chan? Got a boyfriend?”

“No. If ‘boyfriend’ means a romantic partner, I’ve never had one.”

“O-oh, got it.”

Takanashi-san seems thrown by the overly earnest reply, unsure how to respond. The dynamic between this gyaru and this old-fashioned girl is endlessly entertaining—like a live cross-cultural exchange. Their daily interactions could be a Manga Time Kirara strip without any edits.

So, I lean back with a grin, enjoying the show.

But then, Utamaru-san turns her gaze to me and drops a bombshell.

“So, Banjo-san, do you have someone you’re interested in?”

“Hyohe!?”

The question hits so directly that I let out a bizarre noise. My brain flashes to a shogi board with a “check” move pinning me down. Is it Utamaru-san’s demeanor doing this? My heart’s pounding.

Instinctively, I glance at Takanashi-san. …Big mistake.

Utamaru-san gives an “Oh” (I get it) look, while Takanashi-san…

“Oh? Ohohohoh?”

…fixes me with a hunter’s glare.

The introverted board game nerd averts his eyes as the extroverted gyaru leans in, her posture accentuating her figure.

“What’s that, Banjo? You got a thing for someone?”

Yup, exactly as you suspect. I’m totally, head-over-heels into you. —As if I could say that!

“W-w-w-what do you mean, ‘a thing’?”

“That d-d-d-dodging sounds like a virgin’s stutter!”

Takanashi-san’s mischievous grin spells trouble. She’s going to be relentless. Even if she’s joking, I’m not slick enough to deflect this well.

I mean, I’m actually into Takanashi-san, so if this keeps up, my true feelings might slip.

But I can’t let that happen. For the sake of workplace peace and to avoid troubling a girl with a boyfriend, I absolutely can’t let it show.

I push up my glasses, trying to calm my nerves, but it’s not helping.

This is bad. Really bad. I didn’t see this ambush coming.

Desperately, I look to Utamaru-san for a lifeline. She’s sharp and kind—maybe she’ll sense my panic and throw me a save—

“So, you do have a thing for someone, Banjo-san?”

—Nope, she’s delivering a stone-cold checkmate. Why, Utamaru-san? What do you gain from exposing me?

“……”

“Urgh.”

One’s grinning with sadistic glee, the other sizing me up with a calculating stare. Both women are silently pressing me into a corner.

At this point, a weak dodge won’t cut it. I’m teetering on a cliff’s edge.

Frantically searching for an out, I scan the shop. No rescuer in sight—just stacks of board games and the Time Bomb setup in front of us…

“(…Time Bomb?)”

I glance at my role card from the last game—Bomber Gang—and a spark of inspiration hits.

The beauty of this game is that even if your identity gets exposed, the game doesn’t end.

Because the “focus” isn’t on that—it’s on something else entirely.

The real goal isn’t unmasking the traitor; it’s whether the bomb explodes or not.

…Doesn’t that apply here, too?

Right now, it’s basically confirmed I have a crush. There’s no walking that back.

But the critical “focus” isn’t there.

The game-over scenario would be if it came out that I like Takanashi-san.

Luckily, Takanashi-san’s teasing is still half-playful, and Utamaru-san doesn’t seem fully convinced of her suspicions.

In other words, while it’s clear I have a crush…

—there’s still wiggle room about who it is!

The challenge is picking a “scapegoat”…

“Oh, by the way.”

Takanashi-san fires another shot, as if a memory just clicked.

“Right before Uta-chan showed up, you hid your phone screen, didn’t you, Banjo?”

“Huh? Oh…”

Her words jog my memory. Yeah, I did hide my screen from her earlier. Because I was looking at that article about……

…………

……I see.

I feel a plan rapidly forming in my mind.

I speak up, adopting a deliberately calm tone.

“Phew, well, I guess there’s no dodging it if I’m this cornered.”

“Oh?”

Takanashi-san perks up at my exaggerated sigh and dramatic flair.

I press on, channeling the vibe of a Bomber Gang member who’s been outed in Time Bomb.

“Yes, it’s true. I do have a crush. But it’s… not some chronically late girl.”

“Hey, who’re you calling that, Banjo?! That’s rude! Apologize!”

“Wait, you’re self-aware?”

Takanashi-san and I slip into our usual banter.

But Utamaru-san, the quietly competitive regular, remains unruffled, her gaze steady and skeptical, like a serene lake.

“…So, Banjo-san, who do you claim to like?”

“W… well…”

Her calm intensity nearly throws me. She presses further, unfazed.

“Come to think of it, you’re always downplaying yourself, saying you have few friends, especially since your expulsion.”

“Y-yeah.”

“And despite Takanashi-san often teasing you about your lack of guy friends, I don’t recall you ever having a good comeback for that.”

“Pfft, this is hilarious! Uta-chan’s in full courtroom-drama mode, and it’s strong. lol”

Takanashi-san bursts out laughing as Utamaru-san grills me. That jerk…!

But Utamaru-san continues, her tone free of malice.

“Also, Banjo-san, you strike me as someone who prioritizes hobbies over romance or meeting people. Given that tendency…”

“G-given that?”

“—I’d deduce that the number of people you could potentially develop feelings for is extremely limited.”

“……”

“So, I’ll ask again. Is your crush really not Takanashi-san?”

What is it with this girl? Her poker face is next-level. Sometimes, she snatches truth or victory with an almost unsettling calm. Sure, as a board game veteran, I’ve got a higher win rate, but when it comes to sheer human tenacity, I’m no match for her.

Right now is one of those moments. I had a plan to spin a lie, but my confidence is crumbling fast.

This flimsy, desperate “escape” lie—will those piercing eyes see right through it? The fear grips me, and I swallow hard.

But I’m in too deep to back out. With no other options, I have to bet on this shaky, last-ditch lie.

“M-my real crush is…”

“Yes, Banjo-san’s real crush is?”

…Ugh. Those eyes. I can’t imagine my lie slipping past her.

I don’t believe it will, but… I cling to a faint hope.

Unlocking my phone, I pull up the interview article of “that person” and…

Locking eyes with Utamaru-san—not Takanashi-san—I let out my desperate lie.

“The person I really like is… the female shogi player, Utakata Tsukino-san!”

In that instant, Utamaru-san’s unshakable poker face, impervious to any board game—

“……………… …………Heaah!?”

—shatters spectacularly. Her eyes widen in unprecedented panic, her hands flailing wildly before, finally—

“I-I’m leaving.”

““So suddenly!?””

Her abrupt exit stuns both of us staff members. It feels like we’ve made a massive blunder as a shop. Even Takanashi-san, a seasoned pro, panics.

“Wait, wait, wait, Uta-chan! I mean, Utamaru-san! Sorry, sorry, we got carried away! Really sorry!”

Takanashi-san’s rare sincere-apology mode kicks in, but Utamaru-san tilts her head in response.

“? No, Takanashi-san, you haven’t done anything wrong…”

“R-really? Then, let’s try again…”

“Yes.”

Utamaru-san flashes a bright smile… and stands up.

“I’m leaving.”

“You’re actually leaving!?”

We slump in defeat. Utamaru-san, seeing our reaction, tries to smooth things over.

“N-no, really, it’s not like I’m upset or anything!”

“Are you sure? If our behavior or attitude as staff upset you, we’d appreciate your honest feedback for future improvement…”

“No, no, it’s really not that! But, well…”

“But?”

I swallow hard. In customer service, complaints are part of the gig, and I’ve built some tolerance for the irrational ones from tough customers.

But with Utamaru-san—a genuinely great customer—it’s different. I’m terrified of what I might’ve done to upset her. If she’s upset, it’s almost certainly my fault, and that’s a gut punch.

Sweat beads on my forehead. Utamaru-san… stares at me for a moment, her cheeks faintly flushed with what seems like anger, then looks away and declares:

“…I’d appreciate it if you’d say ‘things like that’ when we’re alone…”

“Huh?”

For a second, I don’t process what she means. But then I recall the conversation—my claim about liking Utakata Tsukino—and it clicks. At the same time, Takanashi-san seems to catch on, too, and scolds me.

“Oh, right, Banjo! If you like this Utakata Tsukino girl, you gotta muster the courage to tell her, not us!”

“What? No, I mean, you two were the ones cornering me, so I had no choice…”

“Oh, so that’s how you’re playing it, Banjo? Wait, are you actually into this Utakata Tsukino girl?”

Crap, now I’m under fire again. I need to shut this down clearly!

“How rude. I’m genuinely in love with Utakata Tsukino-san!”

“I’m leaving.”

“Why so suddenly!?”

The moment I loudly proclaim my pure (fake) love for Utakata Tsukino, Utamaru-san bolts for the exit with movements straight out of an SCP containment breach.

We can’t keep up with that speed—we can barely track her with our eyes. Yet, she dutifully leaves the exact payment at the register in cash, and then—

“Thank you for the match—er, game—today!”

—she meticulously says “Thanks for the game” before zipping out at SCP speed again.

““……””

Takanashi-san and I are left speechless by the sheer absurdity.

We stand there, stunned, until our eyes meet, and we snap back to reality, awkwardly slipping into “staff mode” to cover the silence.

I start cleaning up Time Bomb, while Takanashi-san logs Utamaru-san’s payment into the register. We work without a word.

As I shelve Time Bomb after tidying up, Takanashi-san, closing the register with a clank, speaks up.

“So, Banjo.”

“Yeah?”

I respond without turning around. Takanashi-san continues in a flat, almost detached tone.

“…That thing about liking this Utakata girl. Is it for real?”

“…Well, yeah, it’s real…”

“I see.”

“Yup.”

……The conversation dies without us even making eye contact, and silence blankets the shop.

……

If this were a board game, I’d be confident I made the right play—fighting to the end without folding, as a true gamer and person should. No question.

So why…

“I see. You’ve got a crush, huh, Banjo.”

“…Yeah…”

“Got it, got it… I see.”

“……”

Why do I feel like I’ve blundered, like advancing a pawn too far in shogi?

 

Utakata Tsukino

 

About ten seconds after leaving Kurumaza.

“Excuse me!”

“!?”

Bursting into the staffing agency office on the fifth floor of the same building, I…

Ignoring the startled president—my aunt, Mari-san—I charge straight to the back.

I dive into the changing booth used for photoshoots, yanking the curtain shut with a sharp snap.

In that cramped space, I tear off the stifling disguise cap, letting my long black hair spill free, and collapse onto the simple chair inside.

Finally, I unleash the raw emotions coiled tight in my chest.

“UUUuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”

As expected, my aunt immediately protests.

“Um, Tsuku-chan? I get that we’re family, but barging into my workplace, commandeering a corner, and howling like a beast… that’s a bit much. As a human.”

“Sorry. Thanks for having me. Excuse me. UUuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”

“Yeah, polite greetings don’t make the beast noises okay.”

“…………………………………………!”

“Wait, are you seriously muffling your voice with a handkerchief? Stop that, too.”

“…Sorry, Mari-san. Just pretend I’m possessed by a fox spirit and leave me be.”

“What kind of aunt leaves her fox-possessed niece alone in her workplace…?”

“UuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”

“Ugh, fine, do whatever.”

Through the curtain, I sense Mari-san giving up and returning to her work. Apparently, an aunt can leave her fox-possessed niece alone in her workplace. As expected of my Shishou.

Taking her words to heart, I continue my bizarre howling in the changing booth for a while.

Five minutes later, I abruptly stop, stand, pull back the curtain, and step out before my Shishou as the poised, refined “Utakata Tsukino.”

“Hello, Shishou. Fine weather today, truly splendid, isn’t it?”

“Wow, that switch is intense, my niece. That’s straight-up fox-possession territory.”

“? Isn’t that just how shogi players are?”

“Well, fair enough.”

Mari-san nods easily. There’s some exaggeration, but shogi players—or any competitors—have their own ways of processing emotions.

I’m no exception. Even if someone I care about… Banjo-san… confesses their love to me, five minutes of groaning is enough to… to…

“Ugh…”

“Oh? Lingering emotions? That’s rare for you, Tsuku-chan.”

“What a way to put it. But… yes, this agitation might linger.”

Sighing, I settle into a desk chair by a long table, likely used for meetings and business. Mari-san stops typing, swivels her monitor to face me, and asks:

“So, what’s up? Your first shift as a rental boyfriend isn’t until later, right?”

“No, I haven’t even decided if I’m doing that yet.”

“Ugh, that’s a problem! I already swapped out the previous guy’s profile pic on the website!”

“Yeah, that ‘ugh, that’s a problem!’ is definitely my line.”

“Whatever. Seriously, though, why are you here?”

“…Well, um, how do I put this…”

Trying to explain to my Shishou, I find the words catching in my throat. I’m used to consulting her about shogi, but this is my first time discussing personal relationships.

I gather my thoughts, focus, and decide to confide in my aunt.

“So, earlier, I got a sudden love confession from someone of the opposite sex…”

“? What’s that now? That’s been happening all the time lately, hasn’t it?”

Mari-san asks curiously. She’s right. Especially after some TV coverage, I’ve been approached through SNS, letters, even in person… from all sorts of channels. Sometimes even from celebrities. …Yeah.

“True, now that you mention it. But it’s more like…”

“They weren’t serious enough to take seriously, huh?”

“Yes. I treated them like junk mail or flyers, brushing them off. Though, occasionally, I got heartfelt letters, and I’d reply to those by hand…”

“But even that was just a courtesy reflex, right?”

“Yes. After all, they were strangers. To begin with, I think there’s a fundamental clash of values when someone proposes a relationship based solely on seeing me in the media.”

“Hmm. So, in other words…”

Mari-san pauses, summing up my situation in her usual shishou-like way.

“When it comes to confessions from people you don’t care about, they don’t move you at all, do they, Tsuku-chan?”

“…Now that you analyze it, that does seem to be the case. As expected of Shishou. Truly splendid.”

I nod in admiration at her sharp insight, and Shishou grins mischievously.

“In other words…”

“?”

“A confession from someone you do care about would hit you right in the heart, wouldn’t it?”

“!”

My face burns the moment she says it. Mari-san’s sly grin, the kind she flashed in her active days, pins me. Ugh…!

“T-that’s true for everyone, isn’t it?”

“Sure is. But the issue now is that someone like that has finally appeared for you—the great Utakata Tsukino.”

“W-what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. I mean, come on, Tsuku-chan, your life so far has barely had a hint of romance, right?”

“How rude. I’ll have you know I’m a blossoming, pure-hearted maiden in the prime of youth!”

“That phrasing alone proves you’re anything but ‘blossoming.’”

“I-I’ll have you know, even in the shogi promotion society, I had one or two rumored flings with players…”

“Oh, you mean that legend where a certain elementary school girl crushed a famous player who mocked female shogi players in an unofficial match? Yeah, I’ve heard that one.”

“…I-I got a sincere letter from a middle school classmate, a boy…”

“Oh yeah, your sister showed me that one. ‘I’m good with the 〈After-School Shogi Club〉 now. Really, I’m fine. Seriously. I’m so sorry.’ That one, right? It was dripping with feeling. His handwriting was shaking like crazy.”

“I-In high school, at an all-girls school, I was the princess of the shogi club, adored by all the members…”

“Adored so much they were terrified and eventually kicked you out, right?”

“I wasn’t kicked out! I was ‘inducted into the hall of fame.’ An honorary member.”

“Sure, sure, my poor little niece.”

“A-and, speaking of guys, I once went to a hotel with the Eternal Dragon King, Tsukumo-san…”

“And got into a fistfight, right? Wait, no? Am I mixing this up with Dragon and Strawberry or something? Anyway, your relationships are basically all strong-arm style, aren’t they?”

“Ugh…”

I can’t deny it. My approach to relationships often feels like a “win or lose” match. Even with Banjo-san, it’s like that. Ugh… strong style…

“To think that even the formidable Utakata Tsukino would find a guy she cares about.”

I respond to my teasing aunt with a cool, composed expression.

“He’s not that important to me.”

“Yeah, right. You spent five minutes howling like a beast in my office. That’s not convincing.”

“Urgh.”

She’s got me. Checkmate. I slump my shoulders in surrender and decide to confide openly.

“As you’ve probably guessed, I recently got a love confession from someone I’ve been getting close to.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you—though I wish I could just be happy about it.”

“What do you mean? This doesn’t seem like just embarrassment.”

“Yes. The thing is—”

Just as I’m about to explain that it was an indirect confession, the intercom buzzes, signaling a visitor.

“Huh?”

I turn, startled. Through the frosted glass, a vague silhouette appears. A visitor.

That’s normal, of course, but it’s the first time I’ve seen someone else come here since my first visit, so I’m thrown off.

Instinctively, I hold my breath. Meanwhile, my aunt responds naturally with a “Yes?”

“Who’s there?”

A young woman’s voice comes from beyond the door—one that feels unnervingly familiar.

“Um, I’m the one who contacted you through the website’s email form…”

“Yes? Hold on, let me check.”

Shishou responds while quickly turning her monitor and clicking the mouse. Finding something, she continues, sounding apologetic, through the door.

“Oh, here it is! Sorry, I must’ve missed it…!”

“No, no, it’s fine. I only sent the email, like, three minutes ago, so it makes sense.”

“Huh? Oh, you’re right. So, what’s this about…?”

“Well, after sending the email, I checked the website again and realized, ‘Wait, this address is just one floor up!’ So I figured it’d be faster to come in person.”

“One floor up?”

Mari-san’s puzzled question overlaps with my own voice. While she’s just curious, a sinking feeling creeps up inside me.

“(This voice, this way of speaking, and the ‘one floor up’ comment… If my hunch is right, it’d be bad—really bad—for ‘me as I am now’ to run into this visitor…)”

With my hair down, unmistakably “Utakata Tsukino” but dressed as the “Utamaru” from the board game café, even someone as oblivious as Banjo-san might not notice, but the other staff member—“her”—would definitely figure it out.

And that identity reveal would be catastrophic right now.

If this were thirty minutes ago, getting found out would’ve been a lighthearted “Oh, I’m actually kinda famous!” moment.

But now… knowing that Banjo-san’s crush is “Utakata Tsukino,” it changes everything.

“(Getting exposed at this timing would be the worst possible scenario!)”

It’s beyond awkward. Depending on the nature of “her” feelings for Banjo-san, this could spiral into full-blown drama.

In any case, this is bad.

I leap from the chair. I need to hide somewhere, anywhere.

Seeing my panic, Shishou… gives an “Oh” as if she’s realized something. Yes, as expected of my shishou and blood relative, a former women’s shogi player. She’s perfectly grasped what I need—

“Oh, sorry for keeping you at the door! Come on in!”

“(You—!)”

Whether it’s natural or calculated, Shishou invites the visitor in with “kind” intent.

Thinking back, Mari-san’s always been like this, even in shogi. She’d play a relaxed, fun game for a while, then suddenly drop a brutal move with a smile, dragging you into a hellish quagmire. Always has, since way back.

“Oh, then I’ll take you up on that.”

The sound of the doorknob turning—click. No time left.

Like the endgame in shogi, I have one move left.

Right behind this chair, the place I was hiding in just moments ago—

“(Gotta make it!)”

—the changing booth.

I kick off my shoes, grab them, dive into the booth, and yank the curtain shut with a snap.

Holding my breath, I strain my ears to gauge the situation.

“Excuse me!”

The familiar voice enters. …No doubt about it. It’s “her.” The question is…

“Huh?”

“Something wrong?”

She seems to notice something. My heart pounds as I stare at the swaying curtain. …Ugh, if I’d had just a few more seconds, it would’ve stopped moving…!

I curse Shishou’s bad (in this case) quick judgment.

I can’t see her face, but I know she’s smirking outside the curtain. She’s probably thinking, “Whatever happens, it’ll be entertaining.” That’s just who she is.

And the result of her gamble…

“Whoa, just one floor up, and the view’s totally different!”

…seems to be my win. The visitor’s more interested in the view outside than the plain changing booth.

Shishou lets out a “Hmph.” She’s gracious in defeat.

“Haha, if you like the view, feel free to enjoy it as much as you want.”

Naturally, Shishou doesn’t do something tactless like revealing my presence. Instead… as if rewarding my victory in this gamble, she clearly states the visitor’s identity, directed at me.

“—Takanashi Mifuru-san.”

＊

“Please, have a seat over there. I’ll make some tea.”

“Thanks. Uh, wait, you sure it’s okay?”

Using slightly awkward polite language, Takanashi-san moves toward me—toward the changing booth—as Mari-san directs.

The sound of her footsteps—clack, clack—draws closer. My heart races, knowing only a thin curtain separates me from someone who absolutely cannot see me like this.

“Alright, I’ll sit.”

Takanashi-san doesn’t seem to notice anything odd about the changing booth and takes a seat, apparently.

I exhale in relief. She’s still close, but with her back to the booth, the odds of her spotting me are now near zero—

“Wait, huh?”

“Something wrong?”

Takanashi-san’s voice spikes as she notices something, and Shishou responds. She continues, puzzled.

“Nah, it’s just… the chair’s kinda warm?”

“(Because I was sitting there until just nowwwwww!)”

My heart lurches at her sharp observation. I never imagined I’d feel like a criminal cornered by a detective in real life.

If she keeps deducing, she might think, “Someone else must be here,” “There aren’t many places to hide,” “The most likely spot is…” and it wouldn’t be surprising if she yanked open this curtain.

Overthinking like this is practically a shogi player’s bad habit, but once I start, I can’t stop.

Curled up on the small chair, I start trembling. At this rate, she might not even need to deduce—I could give myself away with the noise and shaking.

But then, surprisingly, Mari-san tosses me a lifeline.

“Oh, sorry, I was taking a little break from work.”

Mari-san says, sounding sheepish. Takanashi-san seems to assume she was the one sitting there.

“Oh, no worries at all.”

She responds brightly, dropping the topic.

I let out a silent sigh, my trembling easing.

It’s frustrating, but Mari-san… Shishou is incredible, as always. She hid my presence without even lying. She was taking a break—talking to me—but by omitting that, Takanashi-san assumed she was working at the chair.

I’m thrilled by Shishou’s sharp wit, but it also makes me think:

Why couldn’t she stay my idol—my admired women’s shogi player—forever?

What you want, you have to take for yourself, Tsuku-chan.

I still miss the fearless, grinning “Shishou I looked up to” from back then.

“……”

Without realizing, I’m clutching my knees tightly when I notice their conversation has shifted past greetings to the main topic.

“So, could you tell me why you’ve come to our office today?”

“Oh, yeah. About that…”

Takanashi-san slurps her tea loudly. Then, with a clunk as she sets the cup down firmly, as if steeling herself…

She drops a predictably “troublesome proposal.”

“I want to borrow this ‘Usa Itsuki’ guy from your website as a rental boyfriend!”

“…I see.”

Even the unflappable Shishou sounds slightly thrown, her voice tinged with surprise. For me, though, I half-expected this from Takanashi-san.

…Yeah, I expected it, sure.

“(But the ‘complexity’ of this situation in every sense is insane!)”

I clutch my head inside the changing booth. I’m already sneaking into the board game café in disguise, and now one of the staff wants to rent me as a boyfriend? What even is this? Even in shogi, I rarely encounter a board this convoluted.

As I groan inwardly, Mari-san starts explaining.

“Just to clarify, as stated on our website, the ‘rental boyfriend’ service is designed to provide an ‘extra’ to act as a boyfriend. You understand that’s the premise of your request, correct?”

“Y-yeah. And as long as it’s not anything shady, it’s fine even if the customer’s a minor, right?”

“Huh? Well, yes, I suppose so…”

Mari-san hesitates, as if it’s a gray area. After a brief pause, she shifts her approach.

“However, in terms of actually renting him out, there are hourly fees plus transportation costs calculated from our office, so it might be a bit pricey for a student…”

“Oh, about that.”

When the topic turns to money, Takanashi-san, as if prepared, speaks fluently in her usual smooth way.

“Basically, I’d only need him for the absolute minimum time. And if the service is good, I’ll spread the word to my friends. So, maybe you could give me a discount for that? Plus, we’re neighbors, right? Come on!”

“H-haah.”

Mari-san seems to find the formal customer service tone pointless now. Matching Takanashi-san’s casual vibe, she responds more informally.

“So? What’s this ‘minimum’ you’re talking about?”

“Well, here’s the thing.”

Takanashi-san explains with an excited tone.

“Basically, I’d only need to borrow a boyfriend a few times a week, and honestly, we’re talking, like, five minutes tops.”

“Huh? A few times a week, for just five minutes?”

“Yup. And as for transportation costs, since it’s just popping down to the floor below, that’s gotta be zero yen, right?”

“…That’s, uh, quite a request. It’s hard to put a price on something like that.”

“Right? So, doesn’t it just make you wanna do it for free?”

“H-hey, you!”

Takanashi-san is in full Takanashi-san mode, leaving even Shishou flustered. To think she can outwit even my shishou—classic Takanashi-san.

Shishou asks.

“So, what’s the situation here? Borrowing a boyfriend for just a few minutes a few times a week downstairs…?”

“Uh… well, it’s kinda, you know…”

Takanashi-san mumbles awkwardly. After a few seconds of silence, she spills.

“I kinda told my coworker at my part-time job downstairs that I have a super-hot boyfriend…”

“…That’s so lame.”

Mari-san sighs, dropping the customer service facade entirely. Her judgment in moments like this is as sharp as ever.

But Takanashi-san doesn’t back down. She fires back with her signature quick, intuitive, and cutting retort.

“The job that makes money off this lame demand is even lamer, don’t you think?”

“Gnh.”

Wow, Takanashi-san. She’s not just outplaying me or Banjo-san—she’s got Shishou cornered. If we tossed her into the shogi world, she’d stir up a storm in more ways than one.

Riding her momentum, Takanashi-san presses on.

“Also, this… Usa-kun? He’s super hot and perfect for a ‘boyfriend to brag about,’ obviously. But what I really liked is that he’s a ‘girl,’ you know?”

Oh, so the website even mentions that… Well, it makes sense—they wouldn’t hide it since it’s part of the business.

Mari-san responds.

“Yeah, that makes it safer for both the client and the employee.”

“Exactly. And, like…”

Takanashi-san lowers her voice to a whisper, inaudible to Mari-san across the table but just loud enough for me behind the thin curtain.

“…Even if it’s just acting, I don’t wanna get all touchy-feely with a guy who’s not my real crush…”

“……”

Uh, okay. That’s an extra scoop of info I wasn’t supposed to hear. Yeah, let’s pretend that didn’t happen. It’s all in my head.

“Hm? What was that?”

Mari-san asks, and Takanashi-san returns to her normal tone.

“Anyway, the service I’m looking for is basically just having a boyfriend role pick me up after my shift downstairs, that kind of vibe.”

“…Hmm.”

Mari-san responds thoughtfully. I know that tone from her shogi days—it’s the one she used right before conceding. In other words…

“—I see. Instead of nickel-and-diming a local student for such a small job, it might make sense to do it for free and have you advertise for us.”

That’s the signal she’s ready to accept the terms. I let out a quiet sigh as their conversation continues.

“Wait, for real? So this deal’s a go?”

“Hold on, it’s still under consideration. It’s only if we decide you’re useful as an advertiser for our service…”

“Oh, by the way, this is the total follower count for all my SNS accounts right now.”

“You’re hired.”

And just like that, my free rental is decided in seconds. Aunt!?

“Don’t worry. Usa’s payment will come out of our advertising budget.”

“? Oh, cool, I guess? Whatever.”

Mari-san’s explaining this not to Takanashi-san but to me, eavesdropping. Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I’m not entirely opposed…

No, wait, that’s not the point. This isn’t about that anymore.

Mari-san doesn’t know, but the situation between me, Takanashi-san, and Banjo-san is incredibly delicate right now.

Banjo-san, who I thought might have a thing for Takanashi-san, suddenly declared his… l-love for the real me, “Utakata Tsukino.”

Meanwhile, Takanashi-san, who I thought might care about Banjo-san, claimed to have a boyfriend and denied any feelings for him. But now it turns out there’s no boyfriend, and she’s resorting to renting one to keep up appearances.

And me? By becoming a regular as “Utamaru,” I ended up getting an unexpected confession from Banjo-san, and now I’ve learned Takanashi-san’s secret.

If Takanashi-san were to find out my real identity in this situation…

It’d be…

“By the way, Takanashi-kun, what’s your plan if this ‘rental boyfriend’ thing gets found out by the coworker you’re trying to fool or anyone else?”

“Huh? Oh, well… I guess there’s really only one thing to say.”

“What’s that?”

To Mari-san’s question, Takanashi-san responds with terrifying cheerfulness.

“I’d die.”

Yup, there’s no way I can let this get exposed. And it’s not just Takanashi-san’s line anymore—it’s mine too. If the full situation—Banjo-san, Takanashi-san, or the public—gets out, my reaction would be the same.

I’d die.

Those three words are probably the ultimate reason to keep a secret.

But that’s exactly why…

“(Can’t we somehow cancel this request, even now…!)”

Mari-san doesn’t know the details, so she casually accepted, but for me, the risks outweigh any reward, no matter how short the job.

No, I mean, in terms of time commitment, it’s a dream job. Pop into Kurumaza as Usa Itsuki, act friendly with Takanashi-san as we leave, and even cover my café expenses? Sounds great.

But not at the cost of endangering important relationships or my social standing.

I need to get this rental boyfriend gig canceled, no matter what.

As if my prayers were answered—or maybe Shishou’s genius intuition kicked in—Mari-san gives Takanashi-san a warning.

“Oh, but we don’t know yet if Usa can take this shift.”

“What? You mean I might get a different rental boyfriend?”

“Well, that’s a possibility.”

“Seriously…?”

Takanashi-san sounds openly disappointed.

“I chose this place because of the super-hot ‘girl’ part, you know.”

“Oh, that’s splendid.”

Wait, aunt, why are you stealing my catchphrase at a time like this…!

“Splen… did? Wait, that phrase sounds kinda familiar…”

“Ahem, ahem.”

After a deliberate cough, my aunt continues.

“So, if Usa’s unavailable, you’re okay with the deal falling through entirely, no substitutes?”

“Well… I guess so.”

Takanashi-san replies, clearly unenthused. I quietly pump my fist.

“(Yes! Sorry, Takanashi-san, but after you leave, I’ll get Mari-san to cancel this!)”

As I steel my resolve, Takanashi-san adds, “Oh, but.”

“If Usa-kun hears all the details of this request and then cancels, that’s not okay.”

“Hm? You mean, like, a confidentiality thing?”

“Exactly. This is totally personal info. Even just the fact that I’m hiring a rental boyfriend—I don’t want anyone but the necessary people knowing.”

“Fair enough.”

“Right? So, make sure Usa-kun’s decision comes before hearing the details. If he hears the request and then backs out, I’m making him take it, no questions asked.”

“Got it.”

Mari-san responds lightly, saying she “gets it” but not “agrees.” Sly as ever. Honestly, I’m planning to refuse after knowing everything, so it’s understandable.

If I stretch logic, I could argue that “Utakata Tsukino” heard the details, not “Usa Itsuki.” That way, “Usa Itsuki declined without knowing anything” might hold up. Barely. It should be enough to dodge Takanashi-san.

As I’m scheming, Takanashi-san suddenly stands up.

“Crap, it’s already this late!”

“Got somewhere to be?”

“More like, I’m in the middle of a break from my shift right now!”

“Got it. We’ll sort out the details later. The meeting with Usa and all…”

“Cool! So, that’s the plan… wait?”

“Something wrong?”

“Uh—sorry, when I stood up just now, I think my bra clasp came undone.”

“Oh no. You okay?”

“Ugh… I’ll need to take my shirt off to fix it.”

“Oh, then feel free to change wherever—”

Mari-san cuts off mid-sentence.

At the same time, I realize what she saw—and the chaos that could unfold next. In a flash, like a rapid-fire shogi move, I act on instinct.

I frantically start pulling on a “certain outfit” left in the changing booth.

“Thanks. Oh, perfect, I’ll borrow this changing booth thingy.”

As expected, things are barreling toward the future Shishou and I foresaw seconds ago.

Takanashi Mifuru’s hand reaches for the thin curtain separating the booth from the outside.

In mere moments, I’ll have to face her—there’s no escaping it.

The situation is already the worst of the worst. —But.

Even so, as a shogi player…

If there’s even a sliver of a chance to avoid checkmate and survive…

Even if it leads to further chaos, I have to take it.

Right after that thought—

“Alright, excuse me—…huh?”

The moment Takanashi Mifuru yanks back the curtain…

My eyes lock with hers, just as I finish changing at the last second.

“……”

Time freezes in the office.

The three of us stand stunned. Takanashi Mifuru breaks the silence first.

Confused but addressing me—no, “him”—

“Wait… are you Usa-kun?”

The figure reflected in her eyes right now…

It’s the “move one step shy of checkmate.”

In the worst possible situation, it’s still a glimmer of hope compared to facing her as Utakata Tsukino or Utamaru. In other words—

“Y-yo. I’m Usa Itsuki, your boyfriend starting today. Nice to meet you.”

I brush back my blonde hair with a flourish, channeling my aunt’s brazen shogi player persona from her active days, and half-accidentally launch into my role as “rental boyfriend Usa Itsuki.”