Chapter 16: Defense Line

Ritsu did not answer Haruka’s question.

Instead, he began to think about the strange thought that had suddenly popped into his head.

Why did he suddenly think Haruka had “become prettier”?

First of all, as an idol, Haruka’s face had always been very pretty, even without makeup.

As her manager, he saw that face every day and had never once thought it was “not pretty.”

It wasn’t as if he had grown tired of looking at her and then suddenly found her pretty today—after all, her appearance was one of her core competitive advantages.

But before, “pretty” had been an objective fact, like knowing “the sky is blue.”

It didn’t stir any feeling.

Now, however, he seemed to “feel” it—a slight discomfort that put him on guard.

Just as he was about to forcibly suppress the thought with reason—

“By the way, Manager.”

Haruka’s voice rang out again.

Her expression had shifted from earnest sincerity to a look where her eyes started drifting upward, the corners of her mouth pulled wide, her whole face brewing the precursor to some “questionable statement”—

Ritsu’s professional sixth sense immediately blared an alarm.

“…What?”

Haruka pressed her hands together, raised them to her chin, tilted her head, and flashed a smile even she knew was weak.

“Hehe… actually, I’m still a little tired, since I just got out of the hospital… could I…”

Her voice grew softer.

“…take one more day off?”

Ritsu looked at her face.

The Haruka who, two seconds ago, had stirred something subtle in his heart, who had said in a calm but firm voice, “You’ll help me earn the money back, right?”—

Now, she was using a method no different from haggling at a vegetable market to try and squeeze out an extra day of vacation.

In Mizutagawa Ritsu’s mind, the superfluous emotions from thirty seconds ago—like “she’s gotten prettier,” “she’s become more mature,” “something stirred in my heart”—were deleted as cleanly as emptying the recycle bin.

They vanished without a trace.

In their place was a very familiar feeling, one that appeared at least three times a day: this girl is slacking off again.

“No.”

Ritsu’s tone was decisive, leaving no room for negotiation.

Haruka’s clasped hands froze in midair.

She had expected him to refuse, but not so bluntly.

She felt she wasn’t prepared enough—even though she’d made that bold declaration earlier, it was just talk.

She still wanted to review how this role performed on stage.

Ritsu had already pulled another document from his briefcase.

“You can continue resting this morning.”

He placed the file on the coffee table and tapped it with his index finger.

“After lunch, the van will pick you up. Be at the office by 1:30 PM.”

“Ah—”

“At 2 PM, there’s a magazine interview about your comeback—mainly covering your recovery during hospitalization, your message to fans, and your plans after returning. I’ll go over the question list with you in the car this afternoon. It’s not hard, but there are a few questions where we need to watch the phrasing.”

“Wait—”

“The interview will take about an hour and a half. After that, at 3:30, a dance instructor will do a rehabilitation assessment—testing your current physical condition: flexibility, core strength, balance, and completion of basic dance moves. It’s just an evaluation, not training. We mainly want to see if the accident left any motor-related sequelae—”

“Ritsu, wait—”

“—If the rehab assessment shows no major issues, we’ll start formal training next week. We’ll begin with basic fitness, then move to dance. I’ve also scheduled a vocal coach, still coordinating the time—”

“Ritsu!!”

Haruka finally managed to interrupt the rapid-fire speech.

Ritsu stopped and narrowed his eyes.

“Could you not say everything in one go without letting anyone get a word in edgewise?!”

“I’m done.”

“…”

Haruka stared at the densely packed schedule on the coffee table.

She looked like a sunflower that had been overwatered, visibly wilting, her head drooping heavily.

Ritsu stood up from the sofa, zipped his briefcase, and picked up his now-cold coffee.

He organized the documents, leaving on the table what she needed and packing away what he was taking.

All the movements were fluid and efficient, with no wasted steps.

Then he walked to the genkan and put on his leather shoes.

Haruka followed to the area between the living room and genkan, somehow having grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa.

She stood at a distance, watching him put on his coat.

“Manager.”

“Mm.”

Ritsu didn’t look up.

“…Do I really have to go this afternoon? Can’t we push it to tomorrow or the day after—”

“No. The magazine’s deadline is this week.”

“…”

“Anything else you want to say?”

Haruka looked at him.

She wanted to say something, but in the end, she just shook her head.

Ritsu straightened his clothes, stood up, and turned to look at her.

“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself,” he said.

“This afternoon is just an interview and an assessment. You’re not going on stage. If you feel uncomfortable afterward—tell me, and I’ll make adjustments.”

After saying that, he didn’t wait for Haruka’s reply.

He pulled the door, stepped out, and closed it—all in one smooth motion.

click

With the crisp sound of the door closing, the entire apartment fell back into silence.

Haruka remained in the same posture, hugging the throw pillow, standing like a buddha in the genkan.

Her gaze was fixed on the closed door, her brain processing the information from those last few seconds at high speed.

The rapid-fire work schedule from earlier was very Mizutagawa Ritsu.

She had seen this side of him many times, both in their normal interactions before and during the month in the hospital.

But those last two sentences before he left—they were very unusual.

That workaholic, always expressionless and devoid of human warmth, had actually slowed his speech, even let his gaze linger on her face for an extra half-second, and said in a voice that was almost gentle and with a hint of magnetism: “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

“…”

Haruka looked down at the throw pillow in her arms.

Then, her heart gave a thud, like it had skipped a beat.

Her entire body convulsed as she leaned over, clutching her chest.

Her chest was large and soft… no no no, that wasn’t the point.

The point was she felt sickeningly uncomfortable, as if her heart was about to be pulled out of her chest by a human hand.

Then, an uncontrollable wave of heat surged up from her collar.

The roots of her ears felt like they had caught fire, and the burning temperature rapidly spread to her cheeks.

‘Mmph… he was kind of handsome just now?’

The moment this thought formed in her mind, she shuddered as if electrocuted.

Handsome? Mizutagawa Ritsu? That Mizutagawa Ritsu?!

She gasped, her legs giving way, and she slid down the genkan wall to sit on the floor, burying her bright red face into the throw pillow.

‘I’m crazy, I must be crazy… How did I ever come up with that?’ She let out a muffled wail into the pillow.

Objectively speaking, if you were to rate Mizutagawa Ritsu as a “stranger of the opposite sex,” with his handsome features, straight posture, and that aloof expression resembling a character from a certain six-character game called “Cold-Faced Little Azure Dragon,” he could indeed be labeled a “handsome guy.”

But the problem was, why had she never thought so before?

Haruka began to recall her first impression of Ritsu.

But when she actively tried to remember his deadpan face, she would remember the time they played games together.

He could maintain a completely expressionless face without a blush or a raised pulse, while simultaneously giving commands in an impassioned tone: “Armor broken! Armor broken! Almost dead! Just one hit! Go clean it up!”

In reality, the “almost dead” and “armor broken” from Ritsu’s mouth generally meant—meet and break armor, shoot and almost kill, down to a sliver of health, and when asked what armor the enemy had, he’d say he didn’t know.

And that time they went to a hot spring together and even compared…

Stop stop stop stop—

She slammed the pillow against her face.

‘No no no no, what am I thinking about—’

Haruka flopped around on the wooden floor of the genkan like a fish out of water for a couple of seconds.

Her face was now as red as a ripe tomato, even her neck tinged with a strange pink.

She sat up abruptly, slapped her burning cheeks with both hands, and took deep breaths.

‘Calm down, calm down, this isn’t your fault.’

She began frantically shifting the blame in her mind and quickly found the perfect scapegoat.

‘Right, it must be the former Hoshino Haruka who had some unspeakable feelings for Ritsu—like some cheesy plot about a teenage idol with a crush on her mature manager. Then she conveniently packaged those feelings and left them in the hardware, so this blushing and heart racing absolutely can’t be my feelings. This is a preset program in Hoshino Haruka’s hardware that runs automatically, just like that time in the hospital room. It’s all the program’s doing, absolutely! It has nothing to do with me personally.’

‘Yeah! That’s right. I said I’d be a perfect idol. What’s this about getting flustered over my own manager? As a Sigma Male who once boldly declared I’d never marry and would only marry a 2D waifu, as a hugely popular idol carrying the expectations of so many fans, how can I let a mere manager stand in my way?’

Having reached this analysis, Haruka nodded to herself with satisfaction, forcefully ignoring her still-racing heart.

Then she got up from the floor, washed her face quickly in the bathroom, and dragged her legs—still weak from extreme embarrassment—as she hurried into the bedroom.

thump She threw herself onto the bed and wrapped herself tightly in the duvet like a sushi roll, turning into a cocoon.

From deep within the covers came a despairing, muffled sound:

“…So annoying.”