Editor Sato was amused by Haruka’s cute wink and didn’t press further.
Ritsu, however, tilted his head slightly behind her, and until the interview ended, he kept replaying Haruka’s answer—
Because in the past, when faced with such suggestive questions, Haruka would most likely unconsciously let something slip—blushing, stammering, or saying something that would require Ritsu to spend half an hour “sterilizing” afterward.
Every time Haruka had an interview and was asked such personal questions, he was always on edge, guarding against such moments.
But this time, not only did she not panic, she easily defused it with a crisp wink and a single word: “Secret.”
‘If he had to give a professional rating out of ten, he’d give it an 8—lively, playful, and watertight. The two points deducted were because she glanced toward him after the question was asked, drawing unnecessary attention.’
‘To be honest, this didn’t seem like Hoshino Haruka.’
‘Or rather, not the Hoshino Haruka he knew—the idiot who would blurt out things like “Manager-san is pretty handsome today too” without thinking during interviews.’
‘…I’d rather believe this car accident really knocked some sense into her.’
At 3:12 PM, the interview ended smoothly.
Editor Sato put away the voice recorder and shook hands with Haruka to say goodbye.
“Thank you very much today. Ms. Hoshino’s condition is far better than I expected. After the article is written, I’ll send the digital version to Mr. Mizugawa for confirmation first.”
“Thank you for your trouble—!”
Haruka bowed at a standard angle, then watched Editor Sato and the photography team leave.
The other staff also gradually exited, until finally only Haruka and Ritsu remained in the studio.
As soon as all the outsiders had left, Haruka deflated like a leaky balloon.
First, she collapsed ungracefully onto the sofa, instantly shedding all her dignified “work mode.”
Then, in three strides, she hopped over to the vanity table, plopped down into the chair, and began removing the accessories from her ears.
At the same time, she stared intently at Ritsu by the door through the mirror.
“So—how was it? How was it?”
Her face screamed “Praise me! Praise me!”
“Manager-san! How did I do today?”
After taking off her earrings, she started removing her makeup while asking, picking up cotton pads and makeup remover from the vanity and wiping her face in front of the mirror.
Her movements were not very skilled—because this was her first time removing makeup by herself—but the cosmetics had been put back in place by the makeup artist earlier, and with this body’s muscle memory and general knowledge, she could roughly manage.
“Not bad.”
Ritsu leaned against the doorframe, looking at his phone.
“Just ‘not bad’?! Not ‘great’?!”
“You almost messed up during that part about the new anime spoilers.”
“That—ahem, that was a mistake! I recovered right away!”
“You did recover. But next time, be careful—try not to reveal your ‘otaku trait’ during interviews. Hoshino Haruka’s character persona doesn’t have a ‘watches anime’ label.”
“Okay, okay, got it—”
She pouted and continued removing makeup.
The cotton pad rubbed across her face, and the foundation and blush colors faded layer by layer.
The face in the mirror gradually returned from “Hoshino Haruka in the magazine” to “Hoshino Haruka without makeup.”
But even without makeup, her face was still ridiculously beautiful.
While removing makeup, she unconsciously hummed a song.
It was Hoshino Haruka’s signature representative song, and the one she used to love listening to—”Himawari” (Sunflower).
The melody flowed from her throat, soft, as natural as water dripping from a faucet that wouldn’t completely shut off.
She didn’t even realize she was humming.
Ritsu had finished handling his business.
He stood by the doorframe, watching Haruka in front of the mirror as she hummed while removing makeup, the corners of her mouth slightly raised, clearly in a good mood.
He nodded slightly, and the corner of his mouth curled unconsciously.
Haruka’s humming stopped because she had just caught Ritsu’s micro-expression in the mirror.
It was an extremely rare expression—the corner of his mouth carrying a slight arc, his eyes with a hint of teasing, but overall relaxed, even “pleased.”
Based on her twenty years of knowing Mizutagawa Ritsu, the only occasions when this guy showed such an expression were when “something happy came to mind.”
“Manager-san—what are you smiling about!”
Haruka turned around from the chair.
“I’m not smiling.”
Ritsu had already returned to his standard poker face.
“You’re definitely smiling!”
“You’re seeing things.”
He straightened up from the doorframe.
“I’ll go handle the follow-up for today’s interview. After you finish removing makeup and change clothes, wait here. Don’t wander off.”
“Eh? No need to go to the office?”
“Today’s dance rehabilitation assessment has been pushed to tomorrow—your condition today is already sufficient, no need to overdo it.”
He picked up his briefcase leaning against the wall.
“I’ll send you the next appointment time tonight.”
“Oh—okay.”
Ritsu picked up his things and walked to the door, his hand on the handle.
“Hoshino.”
Ritsu turned back and looked at Haruka seriously.
“Hmm?”
A particular look flashed in Ritsu’s eyes.
It was very brief, but Haruka clearly saw something special in that look—
Not the usual “manager looking at an artist” scrutiny during work, nor the familiar “brother looking at brother” vibe from when they used to play games together.
It was something new, something she had never seen before, something that even Ritsu himself probably hadn’t realized yet.
“Today—good work.”
After saying these three words, Ritsu didn’t wait for her reply, pulled the door open, and walked out.
Click.
—
By the time Ritsu finished handling all the interview-related matters, it was already five in the afternoon.
During that time, Haruka had been bored on the makeup room sofa playing on her phone for two hours.
When the minibus stopped outside Haruka’s apartment building, the sky had already darkened.
In December in Tokyo, the sun sets early.
It starts turning gray around four, and by around five-thirty, it’s completely dark.
The streetlights came on, casting long, thin shadows of the roadside trees, like black needles stabbing into the ground.
Haruka unbuckled her seatbelt, picked up her small bag, and pushed open the rear door to get out.
“I’ll—”
“Go back and get some good rest.”
Ritsu didn’t turn around from the passenger seat, his eyes still on his phone screen, but his words were directed at her.
“Don’t stay up late.”
He said this very naturally—so naturally it felt like he had said it a thousand times, and in fact, he had said it about a thousand times.
Ritsu himself hadn’t counted, but he had to say it.
Because Hoshino Haruka had a habit that gave all relevant staff headaches: staying up late.
No matter how packed Haruka’s schedule was, she would always finish work by ten or eleven at night, so there were no occasions where she had to stay up until dawn for work.
The problem was after she got off work.
When she got home, what Haruka did was: shower → lie on bed → pick up phone → watch videos/watch dramas → watch videos/watch dramas → watch videos/watch dramas → look at the time and find it was already 2 AM → “Just one more episode” → 3:30 AM → “Really the last one” → 4:15 AM → fell asleep.
Then the next morning, she’d be blasted awake by her alarm at 7:30 AM and face a whole day’s work with only two hours and forty-five minutes of sleep.
Every time the makeup artist saw her two dark circles, their expression could fill a book.
They could cover them up, but the cost was an extra twenty minutes and half a bottle of concealer.
For this reason, the burden of persuading Haruka not to stay up late fell on his shoulders.
Though most of the time Haruka would let it go in one ear and out the other, saying it was better than not saying it.
When Haruka heard “Don’t stay up late,” she instinctively shrank her neck.
Although she hadn’t had any late-night incidents in the past month, her body’s reaction to those three words was etched into muscle memory: a conditioned reflex of guilty feeling like being caught.
“I’ll rest properly!”
She raised her voice a little, sounding aggrieved.
“When will Manager-san believe me!”
Ritsu still didn’t turn around.
“When you can go a full week without staying up late and don’t need the makeup artist to apply concealer.”
“Hmph… that’s the past! I’m different now!”
“Mm. I’ll send you the time for tomorrow’s dance assessment tonight. Go to bed early.”
“Okay—okay—”
Haruka stood by the car door and waved toward the vehicle.
“Then—Manager-san, good work today! See you tomorrow—!”
Ritsu nodded once.
The car door closed.
Mr. Uehara smoothly drove the minibus out of the parking area and merged into the evening rush hour traffic.
Haruka stood there, watching the minibus’s taillights disappear around the street corner before turning and walking into the apartment building.
The minibus’s taillights turned into a small red dot in the traffic, then merged into the millions of small red dots.
In the elevator, she touched her face.
It had been a bit hot when she was “caught” and when she was sulking, still a little warm now, but not red overall.
“Mm hm… don’t stay up late, don’t stay up late…”