“Actually, you’re not Haruka, are you?”
When Waipo used that calm, utterly unruffled tone to ask this thunderous question, Haruka felt her heart completely stop for a second.
Blood seemed to drain from her limbs, leaving her fingertips icy cold.
But in the extreme panic, the idol instincts of this body, or perhaps her survival instinct, kicked into overdrive.
After just a single second, Haruka forcibly suppressed every micro-expression on her face that was about to collapse.
She jerked her head up, curved her eyes into crescents, and let out a sweet, slightly coquettish laugh: “Waipo, what kind of joke is that! If I’m not Haruka, then who could I possibly be? Did an alien turn into me or something?”
Waipo didn’t laugh.
She simply shook her head gently.
“You really are Haruka. Your voice, your face, even the tone you just used to act spoiled with me—it’s exactly like hers.”
Waipo’s voice was a bit aged, but her words were exceptionally clear.
“But you’re just playing the part of ‘her,’ aren’t you?”
The smile on Haruka’s face gradually froze.
Waipo’s gaze dropped slightly, looking at the white mist rising from the tea cup.
“Is the real Hoshino Haruka already gone, back in that car accident?”
Hearing this, the energy and pretense Haruka had desperately maintained instantly deflated.
The smile on her face completely collapsed, her shoulders sagged weakly.
She lowered her head, staring fixedly at her clenched hands on her knees, not daring to look directly into the old woman’s eyes across from her.
“That little orange cat when you were ten—I made it up on the spot.”
Waipo continued unhurriedly, her tone carrying a trace of cruel clarity.
“Haruka has been severely allergic to cat hair since childhood. If she got even half a meter close, it would trigger a severe asthma attack. There’s no way she would have picked up a stray cat, let alone kept it in the backyard.”
Haruka’s body trembled slightly.
“And this cup of Gyokuro tea.”
Waipo pointed at the untouched tea in front of Haruka.
“She hated that bitter tea taste since she was little. Every time I brewed it, she’d pinch her nose and run away, then throw a tantrum to go buy ramune soda from the convenience store at the end of the alley.”
Waipo spoke slowly, each word like a precise judgment, stripping Haruka’s painstakingly crafted perfect lie bare.
Haruka completely didn’t dare to speak anymore.
Her mind went blank—or rather, she was already previewing the terrible scene about to unfold in her head.
Waipo would definitely stand up, slap her across the face first, then curse her with the most vicious words.
Call her a monster that had taken over her precious granddaughter’s body, a shameless thief, a walking corpse wearing the skin of an idol…
She might even grab a broom and chase her out, demanding she return the real Hoshino Haruka.
But one second passed, ten seconds passed.
The expected curses and slap never came.
“When I was young, I was actually a head surgeon.”
Waipo’s tone was still calm.
“And I worked at that same Shibuya General Hospital where you were taken for emergency treatment.”
Haruka was stunned for a moment, looking up in slight bewilderment.
“Although I retired many years ago, your father called me first on the night you were sent in after the accident.”
Waipo’s gaze turned distant, as if returning to that despairing night.
“Shoichi is the type who only shares good news and hides the bad. He hid the fact of your accident from me. So I contacted an old colleague at the hospital, but they were also afraid that this old woman would do something foolish upon hearing the news, so they kept it from me.”
“Later, I learned the details of the accident through the news. The injuries… multiple internal organ ruptures, massive hemorrhaging, plus severe brain damage.”
“As a doctor who stood in the operating room for decades, I knew better than anyone that those injuries were hopeless—fatal without a doubt.”
When she reached this point, a tremor finally crept into the old woman’s voice.
“That night, I sat alone on this sofa until dawn, already prepared to lose my most beloved granddaughter.”
Haruka’s pupils slightly dilated, and her eyes had already started to redden.
“But later, they told me you miraculously pulled through.”
“Then you woke up, seemingly having lost some of your memory, and your personality had undergone some subtle changes.”
Waipo continued: “Your attending physician was a former student of mine. During your recovery, he called me many times, marveling at this ‘medical miracle.’ At the time, I half-jokingly said to him, ‘Could it be that another soul has taken over this body? To be that injured and still bouncing around.’ The doctor was a staunch materialist; he just took it as an old lady talking nonsense after being shocked. He didn’t take it seriously.”
“But I always had a shadow of doubt in my heart.”
Waipo looked at Haruka.
“On the phone the night you were discharged, that deliberately disguised, excessively energetic tone made me three-tenths suspicious.”
“The old Haruka, even if she just caught a slight chill or had a minor scrape on her hand, would insist on calling me for at least half an hour, pouring out every bit of grievance she had.”
“But that night… after going through such a life-or-death ordeal, you acted like a mature adult, swallowing all the bitterness without a single leak, calmly handling it.”
“Last night’s phone call, you said you were coming back, and this morning you took the train over by yourself. You know, the old Haruka wouldn’t just come back alone so straightforwardly. She would have pestered me on the phone first, spoiled me into going to Tokyo to cook her a good meal, then dragged me through the mall before finally coming home with me.”
“After a near-death experience, a personality change to be more mature—I could force that explanation. But some preferences don’t change because of an accident.”
“So I set up these final tests today.”
“These tests turned my ten-tenths suspicion into complete confirmation.”
The room fell into a dead silence again.
Only the heater made a soft whoosh sound.
Haruka lowered her head, tears already welling in her eyes, falling in big drops onto the back of her hands.
“I’m sorry.”
She squeezed out these three words in a voice as thin as a mosquito’s hum.
She closed her eyes, biting her lip hard, waiting for Waipo’s final judgment on this monster.
But what came instead was the rustling sound of clothes.
Waipo slowly stood up from the chair opposite, walked over to Haruka’s side, and sat down next to her.
Then, a pair of old hands, calloused and warm with the afterglow of years, firmly grasped Haruka’s ice-cold hands trembling with fear.
“You don’t need to apologize at all, child.”
Waipo’s voice became incredibly gentle, as if coaxing a wronged child.
“On the contrary, it might be me who needs to apologize.”
Waipo paused, a hint of embarrassment in her tone.
“Those words just now were indeed a bit heavy.”
“Because… that reasoning I just gave, which made me sound like a detective, was mostly just an old woman’s rambling—I deliberately used it to bluff you.”
Haruka’s eyes snapped open, tears still falling, and she stared in astonishment at Waipo beside her.
Waipo smiled gently.
“Just now, did you think I was the kind of old lady from anime or movies who can see spirits? Who can tell what your soul looks like at a glance.”
“Hehehe, I’ve held a scalpel all my life. How could I possibly believe in such fanciful tales as ‘soul transmigration’?”
In medicine, after an extremely severe brain injury, complete memory loss, a complete change in personality, and even entirely different habits and tastes are perfectly normal sequelae.
I’ve treated many patients who completely changed after surgery due to severe head trauma.
“Then why… is there still someone here?”
“If you had argued back just now, told me you simply didn’t remember, just didn’t like those things anymore, I would never have pressed another word. At most, I would have sadly accepted this ‘changed Haruka.’”
“But you didn’t.”
Waipo’s eyes held a hint of pity.
“You want too badly to appear ‘normal,’ so you’re walking on eggshells, acting, deliberately pandering to those so-called habits. This deliberate ‘performance’ became your biggest flaw.”
Waipo let out a soft sigh.
“If when I finished my confession just now, you had flatly denied it, I would never have continued this absurd topic. But I didn’t expect that you, silly child, would be tricked so easily, immediately lowering your head and confessing, which instead confirmed my guess that I thought was the least likely.”
Haruka stared blankly at Waipo, her lips trembling slightly, unable to react for a moment.
She felt both annoyed and amused, not knowing what expression to make.
‘After all, it was my own guilty conscience that made me admit it on my own?!’
But Waipo reached out and gently tousled her hair, her eyes full of affection.
“But do you know, girl? This weak spot of yours—when you usually make a mistake, you desperately try to hide it, but once an adult truly hits your sore spot, you immediately obediently lower your head and confess… it’s exactly like the old Haruka, exactly the same.”
“So I thought, maybe there are no monsters or thieves in this world. You are, in fact, my other granddaughter.”
Haruka’s tears could no longer be held back, streaming down in large drops.
“I think I should tell you… thank you.”
“I don’t care who you were before.”
Waipo gently rubbed the back of Haruka’s hand with her rough palms, her eyes full of acceptance.
“I don’t care if you were male or female, poor or rich—none of that matters. Because I’ve seen a lot with my own eyes.”
“Your manager, Mr. Ritsu, has called me many times, and also sent me your practice videos and some event recordings. I saw you desperately trying to live on for her. Saw you enduring discomfort to do rehabilitation training, saw you learning her tone to do interviews, saw you singing like her.”
“You didn’t defile or waste this identity. You didn’t destroy her life just because you became someone else. You gloriously carried on the idol identity. You were willing to accept your new body and identity—that’s enough.”
Waipo’s eyes also glistened with tears.
She reached out and gently, firmly pulled the stiff girl into her warm embrace.
“Your name now is Hoshino Haruka. I am your Waipo.”
Waipo’s hand gently patted Haruka’s back, stroke after stroke, as if comforting a traveler who had been lost for a long time and finally come home.
“But… I’m not her after all…”
“I can see that you’ve never really let go. There’s a grudge in your heart, feeling you’re a substitute.”
Waipo’s gentle voice sounded in Haruka’s ear, carrying a power that could melt any ice.
“But child, since the real Haruka chose to leave this body to you that night, chose to let you live on for her, then please, live beautifully for yourself.”
“Stop nervously ‘playing’ her, and don’t feel you’re ‘replacing’ anyone. From today on, set down those heavy burdens, and become your true self.”
At this gentle whisper, an iceberg named “Impostor Syndrome”—the deepest ice that Haruka had suppressed for over a month with bold words—crashed down in that moment.
The rationality and self-esteem that once belonged to an adult man were shattered completely.
“Wah… Waaaaaaah—”
Haruka hugged Waipo back tightly, burying her face in the old woman’s thin shoulder, crying loudly like a big child who had finally endured enough grievance outside and found home.
She no longer needed to act.
She no longer had to constantly worry about being found out.
She finally had a safe harbor that could completely and unreservedly accept her original soul.
Waipo said nothing, just held Haruka, gently patting her back, humming a lullaby she used to sing to put Haruka to sleep.
Outside the window, the winter wind still howled bitterly.