That said, even if Kuroba Akira found it wasteful, he couldn't just tell Shiginomiya Shion, "You'd be better off not becoming a voice actress. That would be such a waste of talent."
Because Shion was a real, flesh-and-blood person—not some game character Akira could control at will. She had her own thoughts, her own will. She wouldn't always do what he said.
If he changed direction too abruptly and made her suspicious, it could backfire.
So first, Akira needed to test something: just how obedient was Shion right now?
By the time these thoughts passed through his mind, the two of them had already returned home. Akira headed into the bathroom, grabbed his towel, and tossed it to her.
"You're probably uncomfortable from all that sweat, right? Here—use mine for now."
Shion was uncomfortable. Her skin was clammy under her track jacket, especially the area between and under her breasts—damp and sticky. She really did want to wipe it all down.
But the moment she caught the towel Akira tossed her, her first thought was—
Does it… smell like him?
She kind of wanted to hold it close and take a sniff—but doing that in front of him would be way too embarrassing.
Akira, well aware of how girls tended to worry about "guy smell," quickly added,
"Don't worry, I washed it with soap earlier. No weird smell."
"…Mm."
Shion wasn't actually that bothered about using a towel Akira had used. What she was really thinking about… was whether her scent would get left on it afterward.
After all, Akira would eventually use this towel to wipe his face…
If she used it to wipe her chest, and then Akira wiped his face with it—wouldn't that basically mean his face was being pressed right into her chest?
That thought alone made her hesitate.
Akira, unaware of the complex mental gymnastics unfolding in front of him, misread her silence as reluctance.
"If you're that grossed out, I guess just hold off for now. You can wait till we buy a new one."
He reached to take the towel back.
But instead, Shion took a step back, clutching the towel to her chest like it was something precious.
"Um… I still want to wipe off. I'm all sticky, and it's uncomfortable… but… Akira, you really don't mind?"
Watching her nervously ask for his opinion, Akira couldn't help chuckling a bit—and let something mildly inappropriate slip.
"Mind what? Honestly, a beautiful girl's sweat is like a bonus for a guy. When you're done, feel free to give it back. I like it when it has a bit of your scent."
"…Alright. I understand."
But instead of the bashful outrage Akira had expected, Shion just nodded with uncharacteristic seriousness—like she'd made up her mind.
Akira blinked, momentarily confused.
Wait. That's not the reaction I was expecting.
He thought she'd blush, shriek "Pervert!" and maybe toss the towel at his face in embarrassment. That was how this kind of scene usually played out in rom-coms, right?
But what he got instead was—
Zzzip.
The sound of a zipper.
Shion turned her back to him and slowly pulled her jacket halfway off, letting it drape over her arms.
The sight revealed her pale neck, smooth shoulders, and a delicate, snow-white upper back that practically glowed under the morning light.
Akira's eyes got a full scoop of visual ice cream—and what caught his attention most was—
Wait… was she not wearing anything under that?!
Previously, the class rep had gone bottomless.
Now this one wasn't wearing a top?
What is it with you current-gen JKs and weird exposure habits?
Or is this some kind of genius-specific quirk?
Hold on… does that mean, while we were running earlier—if I'd turned around at the right moment, I might've seen…
Because with wind blowing from the front, her loose jacket might've clung tightly to her chest…
He'd been so focused on the mountainous front scenery, he hadn't realized there were equally eye-catching peaks behind him. The regret stung.
Of course, Shion wasn't stripping for Akira's visual benefit. She was simply wiping herself down.
She began by patting down the sweat around her neck, then carefully wiped along her collarbones, and then—without hesitation—gently dabbed the upper hemisphere, giving each side a soft squeeze before moving lower to clean beneath.
She made sure to wipe the most heavily scented zones with care, returning her body to a refreshed, dry state.
Then she zipped her jacket back up, turned around, and offered him the towel.
"Here. I'm done with it."
Shion's expression was composed—but the way her ears burned red under her black hair made it clear: she was mortified.
She had done this because she remembered she'd appropriated Akira's pervy panty stash the night before—effectively leaving him "without material."
So she took his joke seriously, and offered her used, freshly-scented towel as a kind of… compensation.
"This is… for borrowing your private stash without asking."
"Uh…"
Akira honestly didn't know how to respond.
This was far beyond anything he'd expected.
She hadn't just accepted using a guy's towel—she was willing to hand over one soaked with her own scent.
She even wiped herself in front of him.
That wasn't just "trust." That was outright offering herself up for his kink.
Shion wasn't some naïve girl with no idea what any of this meant. Based on her reaction, Akira could tell she understood perfectly well how guys might "use" a towel like this.
And yet… she still handed it over.
That was no longer just tolerance.
That was… something else entirely.
Her starting affection level… might be way too high.
Of course, Akira already knew Shion had a favorable impression of him.
In fact, he'd expected it from the start.
He had been the one to reach out when she was at her lowest—the first person who didn't care about her looks, who pulled her out of self-doubt and offered her direction and a roof over her head.
If our roles were reversed, Akira thought, I'd probably fall for that person too.
He was, essentially, her savior. Her godsend. Her first lifeline in a world that had rejected her.
Of course she would be moved. Maybe even infatuated.
And that affection… that's what Akira had planned to rely on most.
The higher her affection, the more likely she'd follow his lead. Do what he told her to. Become who he wanted her to be. No resistance. No hesitation.
Just like in those old-school "princess maker" games, or like raising a volcanic queen in a simulation.
Use affection to override free will. Train her to obey. Mold her into the ideal version.
It was, to put it bluntly, emotional conditioning.
That way, he could minimize the risk of her doing something unpredictable or ruining the plan.
This had always been Akira's strategy—from the moment he realized Shiginomiya Shion was a once-in-a-generation genius.
But now…
Her affection is too damn high.
And that came with its own risk.
Namely—
The risk that a vague fondness turns into clear, unambiguous love.
And if that happened, Akira's dream of coasting through life might be game over.