The next day.
The cramped apartment was silent, save for the steady, creaking hum of the old ceiling fan.
He sat cross-legged on the mattress. In front of him lay a small notebook filled with messy notes about this body's pathetic financial situation. Kinoshita Kazuya was a broke college student living entirely off his parents' allowance. He frowned, crossing out absurd expenses and drafting a plan for financial independence. A man who couldn't control his own cash flow had no right to speak of power or freedom.
Right then, the phone on the desk vibrated violently. The shrill ringtone shattered the quiet.
He glanced at the screen. The caller was Kazuya's father.
He answered and brought the phone to his ear, his tone flat.
"I'm listening, dad."
A panicked, breathless voice came from the other end. "Kazuya! Get to the Central General Hospital right now! Grandma collapsed! She had a stroke! The doctors are resuscitating her!"
In stark contrast to his father's extreme panic, his heart rate remained completely steady. Holding the phone with one hand, his calm eyes stayed fixed on the numbers in the notebook. His brain instantly began analyzing the situation with terrifying speed and coldness.
He sifted through his memories of the original author's trashy plot. Right, this was the pivotal event. Nagomi's illness was created as a cheap plot device to pressure the original Kazuya into lying, dragging the rental girlfriend into the family dynamic just to satisfy a sick woman's wish. It was an incredibly forced excuse reeking of psychological manipulation.
However, in that pathetic script, Kazuya received the call while on a date with Chizuru, which led to him bringing her along in a panic. And now? Unfortunately for whatever empty-headed scriptwriter was up there, he had already ended that disastrous date yesterday afternoon with a one-star review and merciless humiliation.
Today, he was completely alone. No companion meant no cheap theatrical lies would be allowed to unfold.
"Understood. I'll be right there." He hung up with a short, decisive sentence.
He felt no blood relation to the old woman named Nagomi. After all, he was just a soul borrowing a body, a complete stranger to this world's family. From a purely rational standpoint, her life or death had nothing to do with him.
Nevertheless, he immediately closed the notebook, stood up, and grabbed his jacket.
It wasn't affection. It was principle.
No matter the world or his identity, he held a strict moral boundary he never crossed: children and the elderly demanded absolute respect and decent treatment. That was the metric distinguishing an educated human from a beast. An elder falling ill, especially the grandmother of this body, required him to execute the duties of a grandson flawlessly. There was no room for insolence or coldness here.
The distinct smell of hospital antiseptic hit his nose the moment he stepped out of the elevator. He strode down the hallway with an expressionless face, his steps steady, showing zero signs of panic.
When he pushed open the door to Room 302, the sight of the Kinoshita family gathered around the bed greeted him. Nagomi had passed the critical stage, lying weakly with an IV drip in her hand. Kazuya's parents stood nearby, their faces pale and anxious.
"Kazuya, you're here," his mother choked out.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the sharp, unpleasant, and arrogant aura surrounding him vanished without a trace. Like a master actor donning a new persona, his features softened entirely. He took off his jacket, draped it over his arm, and walked quickly to the bed.
He sat on the folding chair, carefully taking Nagomi's bony, wrinkled hand. His grip was just right to convey warmth, neither too tight nor too loose.
"Grandma, I'm here." His voice was deep, gentle, and perfectly brimming with genuine concern. "How are you feeling? The doctor said it was just a drop in blood pressure from overworking, but you really scared us."
Nagomi slowly opened her tired eyes. Seeing her only grandson, tears welled up. She was used to a Kazuya who was always timid, clumsy, looking down, and stammering. But the young man holding her hand right now radiated a strange calmness and stability. His clear eyes looked at her without any pretense. Every word he spoke was articulate, bringing a profound sense of security.
"Kazuya, my good boy. I'm sorry for worrying you." Nagomi smiled weakly.
He shook his head slightly, gently stroking the back of her hand with his other. "Don't say that. Your health is what matters most. You need to rest more from now on and stop staying up late for the shop. I'm grown up now. I know how to take care of myself."
Kazuya's parents exchanged glances behind him, unable to hide their astonishment. Their son's sudden maturity felt bizarre yet stirred an indescribable emotion within them. The young man with a razor-sharp tongue, the one who gladly threw ice water in his ex's face yesterday, was currently peeling apples and pouring warm water for his sick grandmother with absolute filial piety.
But this rare peace didn't last long.
From the hallway, a figure slowly walked past the ajar hospital door.
It was a girl with an incredibly plain appearance. She sported rustic twin braids, thick round glasses hiding half her face, and baggy, unremarkable clothes. It was a perfect disguise to conceal her true identity. She was passing by purely by chance, on her way to visit her own grandmother, Sayuri, in the same hospital.
However, Nagomi's old but sharp eyes caught the silhouette the moment the girl paused at the door.
The bespectacled girl, Ichinose Chizuru, widened her eyes in surprise upon seeing the familiar face of yesterday's awful client sitting in the room.
"Kazuya," Nagomi whispered, her trembling finger pointing toward the door. "That girl is looking in here. Is she your friend?"
The decisive moment had arrived. A classic scenario from trashy scripts. The male lead gets backed into a corner, panics, sweats profusely, and in his confusion, blindly claims the girl at the door as his girlfriend to please the patient. One clumsy lie dragging ten thousand more behind it, binding the lives of two strangers into a pathetic mess.
Unfortunately, the person sitting here was not a weak male lead fond of compromises. And it wasn't a coincidence that he had left the door open since his arrival.
He slowly turned his head. His gaze brushed past Chizuru's stunned figure at the door. Even with her thick glasses and braided disguise, his sharp eyes easily stripped away her facade. Combined with the memories of this world, he knew perfectly well they lived in adjacent apartments.
He retracted his gaze and turned back to Nagomi, sporting the kindest smile. Not a single drop of sweat fell. Not a single heartbeat was skipped. He answered clearly and articulately, carrying the absolute credibility of someone holding the truth.
"Ah, yes. That is Ichinose, the girl living in the apartment right next to mine. We're just neighbors. We exchange basic greetings in the hallway sometimes, but we aren't close at all. She probably has family admitted here and just happened to walk by."
The words were sharp and clean like a blade, severing the roots of any misunderstanding entirely.
Nagomi let out a regretful sound. "Is that so? I thought my good boy finally had a girlfriend. She looks so gentle and sweet."
"I want to focus on my studies and career path first. Romance isn't something to be forced." He pulled the blanket up for her, gently extinguishing any romantic delusions right in the crib. "But don't worry. I'll bring a girlfriend home eventually."
Outside the door, Chizuru stood rooted to the spot. Her heart skipped a beat in shock.
First, he recognized her instantly despite her careful disguise. Second, how did he know they were neighbors when she had never told him? And third, the most shocking thing of all: facing his family, instead of using the situation to show off or drag her into his mess like other awful men, he drew a clear, decent, and flawless boundary.
Chizuru pressed her lips tightly together, clutching her bag, and decided to step back into a hidden corner of the hallway. She didn't leave. Her trampled pride at the Aquarium Cafe yesterday, combined with his bizarre attitude today, urged her to demand an explanation.
Thirty minutes later.
Nagomi had fallen into a deep sleep under the sedatives. Kazuya's parents were exhausted, leaning against each other on the corner sofa.
He stood up, adjusted his collar, quietly stepped out of the room, and left the door slightly ajar to avoid making noise.
The moment his back entered the hallway, the surrounding atmosphere instantly shifted. The warm smile and gentle eyes meant for his sick grandmother evaporated as if they never existed. His face hardened. His usual cold, sharp, and unpleasant demeanor cloaked him once more.
He turned the corner, heading toward the vending machines.
"Kazuya."
A quiet but frustrated voice rang out behind him. Chizuru stepped out from the blind spot, blocking the path. The eyes behind her glasses glared at him, carrying the dissatisfaction of a superior demanding justice.
"What was the meaning of yesterday at the cafe?" she growled, her hands gripping her bag straps tightly. "The one-star review and those insults. Do you think having money gives you the right to insult someone's profession? And knowing we're neighbors. Did you investigate me?"
He stopped in his tracks. With both hands in his pockets, he slowly turned his head.
The air around them seemed to freeze. There was no corporate smile, no mocking banter like when he faced Mami. His eyes were perfectly still, dark, and bottomless. An invisible, suffocating pressure radiated from him. It was the genuine killing intent of someone who had once stood at the absolute peak, ready to crush anyone who dared block his path or question his choices.
He looked down at Chizuru's face as she tried to force a strong front. The suffocation made her instinctively shudder, her chest pounding with primal fear. This man was no ordinary student.
He didn't bother raising his voice. He merely smirked, hissing words as cold as ice through his teeth.
"Investigate you? Don't flatter yourself, Ichinose. It isn't my fault the apartment walls are so thin I have to hear you muttering your scripts every night."
He stepped forward half a pace. The invisible pressure forced Chizuru back, her canvas shoes squeaking softly against the floor.
"As for yesterday," he leaned down slightly to her eye level, his voice razor-sharp and carrying absolute lethality. "I paid for a service with perfect ratings. Instead of living up to its reviews, the service was terrible, fake, and an absolute eyesore. Me leaving five stars on the app to save your livelihood was already too merciful. Or did you want me to cry, put you on a pedestal like a goddess, and beg you to love me just to satisfy your cheap pride?"
"I... I didn't mean that!" Chizuru stammered. Her initial confidence had been entirely shattered by his aura.
"Then you should know when to stop," he interrupted ruthlessly. His eyes held not a single drop of pity. "This is a hospital. My family is inside. Do not bring the attitude of a trashy service provider here to disturb my personal life. I don't care who you are, what you do, or how grand your dreams are."
He stood up straight, his gaze sweeping over her like looking at worthless air.
"Our transaction ended the moment I walked out of the Aquarium. Now shut your mouth, turn around, and get out of my sight immediately. Don't make me repeat myself."
Without giving Chizuru a chance to retort, he turned his back and walked straight toward the elevator, leaving the perfect girl rooted to the spot in the quiet hallway.
Chizuru was completely paralyzed. All her arguments and pride were slapped awake by that freezing reality check. Her lips trembled, her chest heaving. His cruelty, combined with the warmth he had just shown his grandmother, created a terrifying and deeply contradictory contrast. She lowered her head, gripped her bag tightly, and hurriedly ran in the opposite direction, carrying an extreme bewilderment she had never felt in all her years of working.
The elevator bell chimed dryly. He stepped inside, watching the metal doors slowly slide shut.