Chapter 9: Is It Possible?

“Wait, what did you just say?”

“I mean… I’m kind of tempted.”

“Not that part. You said Akari Hojo was his girlfriend?”

“What kind of nonsense is that? His girlfriend is supposed to be me.”

Nozomi Sakura’s eyes snapped open. Her delicate, arched brows drew together, irritation sharpening her voice.

“Oh, so what you’re saying is that she’s his ex? Akari Hojo is the ex?”

“Mhmm… that’s what he told me.”

Nozomi replied absentmindedly, then shot back reflexively,

“But how is that even possible?”

“There’s no way Hojo could have any connection with him. He’s probably just one of those hopeless otaku who fantasize about idols, you know the type…”

She went on and on, telling Akane Mia how Alan had hidden promotional posters of Hojo in his car and treated them like treasure.

Nozomi argued her case at length, insisting it was completely impossible.

After listening quietly, Mia considered for a moment before saying,

“Hard to say.”

“……”

Nozomi’s eyelid twitched as she sat bolt upright.

Annoyance flared.

Why was everything suddenly “hard to say”?

She knew Mia was cautious by nature, but lately, whenever Alan came up, the answer was always that same evasive phrase…

Nozomi puffed out her cheeks and forced herself to ask, “So, what’s your brilliant take?”

“He’s rich. He could easily be keeping Hojo as a sugar baby. There’ve been online rumors about some wealthy backer supporting her. Otherwise, there’s no way she could’ve risen so fast.”

“Oh…”

Nozomi’s lips parted, some of the irritation draining away. She slumped back against the wall.

“If you put it that way… I suppose it’s not impossible.”

“Hm?”

Mia sounded confused on the other end of the call.

“Nozomi, I thought you hated hearing bad rumors about Akari Hojo.”

Nozomi Sakura was, in fact, a die-hard Akari Hojo fan.

Ever since she’d seen the young singer debut in that contest—her confidence on stage, her captivating voice—Nozomi had been hopelessly hooked.

She streamed Hojo’s songs daily and queued them nonstop at karaoke.

A die-hard fan through and through.

Once an idol became famous, trash talk inevitably followed. Whenever her friends badmouthed Hojo, Nozomi would smile and brush it off.

“Who knows? The media probably exaggerates. Besides, her songs are great, right?”

But the moment she spotted online trolls, she became someone else entirely, calmly asking whether their family trees were circular.

Mia had realized long ago that Nozomi was in too deep. During the worst of the rumors, she’d chosen to stay silent.

Recently, the slander had died down, and Nozomi no longer spent every night fighting haters online.

Even so, Mia hadn’t expected her to react so calmly to the kept-woman theory.

When Mia pressed her, Nozomi’s expression stiffened. She chewed over her words before replying.

“I’m just following your logic. Theoretically, it is possible.”

Deep down, she couldn’t accept the idea that the two of them had ever dated.

Even if Hojo’s charm rivaled her own, it still felt like being overshadowed.

It rankled.

And if, just if, Hojo really had been Alan’s girlfriend, Nozomi preferred to imagine it as a transactional relationship forced upon Hojo by harsh reality. If they’d both been victims of rotten luck, the sting would hurt less.

“So,” Mia asked gently, “do you really want to become an actress?”

“…No.”

Nozomi answered.

“I said I was tempted. That doesn’t mean I’d actually do it. Even if Alan’s telling the truth, if my father found out, he’d probably break my legs.”

Mia fell silent.

She’d known Nozomi since middle school. The day a talent scout had spotted Nozomi at the mall, Mia had been standing right beside her.

She knew how much Nozomi loved attention, clubs, cliques, crowds. Nozomi never bragged, she simply arranged things so that all eyes naturally drifted her way.

The accessories, the bags, the clothes a girl from her background shouldn’t have been able to afford, they were props, tools to make people look.

Mia had expected Nozomi to at least discuss it with her family. Instead, she’d refused on the spot.

Only later had Mia learned the truth: Nozomi’s father was an old-school Showa-era fossil who believed a woman’s destiny was to become a housewife and raise children.

Anything beyond a school uniform was frowned upon. Yukata were allowed, plain casual wear was tolerated. Nothing more.

Mia suspected Nozomi’s current spending spree—two million yen in credit card debt—was backlash from years of repression.

“I’m just daydreaming…”

“If I can’t become a star, it’s still fun to imagine it, right? Besides, I’m already too late. Real actresses start as child stars. They’ve got connections and skills I’ll never catch up to.”

“That’s only part of the picture,” Mia replied gently. “Some people start training in high school and debut two or three years after graduation. Why assume you’re behind?”

She nudged softly.

“Why not just try, Nozomi? You’ve already moved out. Take some lessons, do small stage roles. Your parents won’t even know. By the time you graduate, your father won’t have a say.”

“……”

Silence stretched across the line.

After a moment, Nozomi laughed softly.

“Forget it. I don’t actually want acting that badly. It’s exhausting, and the rumors are disgusting. Everyone online says showbiz is hell, ‘she slept her way up,’ ‘that one’s a sugar baby,’ and so on.”

“Besides, what if I get tricked into signing some contract and end up in an adult film? I’d rather die.”

“…Okay.”

“Alright, let’s stop there. Mia, I’m exhausted. We’ll talk properly when we meet.”

Mia started to say more, but hearing the fatigue in Nozomi’s voice, she simply wished her good night and hung up.

“….”

Nozomi tossed her phone aside. The cramped, dim room fell silent.

She stared at the ceiling.

A sliver of pale moonlight slipped through the window, illuminating the poster of Akari Hojo taped to the wall.

Her gaze followed the light.

Slowly, she raised her hand, peering at the idol’s face through her fingers.

For an instant, Nozomi felt as though the girl on the poster was herself.

Alan’s words echoed in her mind.

“Have you ever thought that one day you might stand on a stage, appear on screen?”

“Don’t say you can’t. If you never try, you’ll never know how brightly you can shine.”

Clouds drifted past. The full moon vanished, plunging the room into darkness.

Nozomi snapped back to reality.

She stared blankly, then gave a self-mocking smile, yanked the quilt over her head, and burrowed inside.

“Pipe dream.”

---

The next day, at a small restaurant popular with students.

“So… that’s why I probably can’t accept your proposal, Alan. Chasing some starry-eyed acting dream just isn’t in the cards for me.”

Nozomi Sakura finished speaking and offered a gentle, sincere smile. Compared to yesterday, her appearance was a complete reboot.

Her carefully styled hair had been dyed back to natural black, giving her a softer aura. She wore the pale-yellow sundress and silk blouse Alan had bought her, paired with white heels that showed off her ivory ankles.

Today’s theme: good-girlfriend chic.

“You look nice. It suits you.”

Alan delivered two dry compliments as he sat down, leaving Nozomi thoroughly underwhelmed.

She’d overdosed on praise from salesclerks yesterday, but that was yesterday.

Today’s quota needed refilling, and she especially wanted to hear it from the clueless blockhead sitting across from her. Somehow, that would’ve felt like an achievement.

Instead, Alan focused on meticulously picking every shred of scallion and diced green pepper out of his lunch.

He disliked many foods, but scallions and peppers topped the list. Cooked scallions turned limp and slimy, and swallowing them made him nauseous.

Peppers were worse. His stomach had been delicate since childhood, and anything spicy or tough was off-limits. Perhaps because everything he hated happened to be green, he’d developed a general aversion to the color, and even refused to carry two-thousand-yen bills.

His prolonged silence sent Nozomi’s imagination spiraling.

Had she been too blunt? She’d mostly told the truth about her father…

But what if he thought she was just making excuses?

For the thousandth time, she couldn’t read him.

In the few days since they’d met, she’d rarely seen him show strong emotion. Watching him move so unhurriedly made her feel as though the air itself was pressing down on her.

Say something. Give me any reaction at all!

She begged silently.

As for the students passing their table, she no longer cared if they noticed her eating with Alan.

Between the shocks he’d given her and Akane Mia’s pep talks, she’d already accepted the label of “Alan’s girlfriend.”

So what if people knew? Next week her friends would meet him anyway, no point hiding it.

Her gaze flicked to the pile of scallion and pepper scraps on the edge of his plate.

Mental note: picky eater. Probably fought with his mom over vegetables as a kid.

“It’s not as rushed as you think.”

Alan finally set down his chopsticks after removing every last “contaminant” and looked up calmly.

“!”

Nozomi jumped. She’d just finished cursing him in her head.

Recovering, she blinked.

“I only suggested you become an actress,” Alan continued evenly. “I never said you’d step onstage tomorrow. Right now, aside from outstanding looks, you don’t have screen presence.”

“Heh.”

Nozomi forced a polite smile while clenching her fists beneath the table. She wanted to strangle him.

Was she supposed to thank him for the compliment?

Years of school socialization, had no one ever taught him tact? He must’ve been a class outcast. No, correction, he still had no friends.

Even Akari Hojo—if she really had been his girlfriend—might’ve dumped him for this exact reason.

Only I'm stupid enough to date him.

…Jerk.

“Don’t overthink it,” he went on. “Follow the study plan I’ve made. Improve step by step.”

“Wait—” Nozomi’s smile cracked. “What study plan? Did you even hear me? I’m not pursuing acting!”

“As for your family situation…”

Alan paused, his black eyes locking onto hers.

“You’re different. I saw your potential at first glance, potential you don’t yet recognize. When you finally stand onstage, everyone will cheer, drawn to the light you give off. But before that, you need to block out interference that hasn’t even happened yet. It’ll only slow you down.”

He added that he’d never promised her anything upfront, but if she trusted him, things would work out.

He hadn’t anticipated the scale of her father’s resistance.

In the twenty-first century, with virtual idols everywhere, he’d underestimated old-school Showa stubbornness.

Still, anything threatening his income had to be eliminated. Cutting off someone’s money was like killing their parents, and since Alan’s were already gone, this amounted to patricide.

The mindset had to be dealt with. Ruthlessly.

Nozomi sat frozen, heart racing, not with the earlier dread, but because Alan had talked her right back into excitement.

Her throat dried. Her palms ached from clenching.

She almost blurted out, "What’s the plan? What do I do? Can you really persuade my father?"

Her gaze flickered, then dropped to the table. She sipped her water and said nothing.

After three—almost four—days, she’d finally discovered what made Alan special beyond his money.

His words.

They were hypnotic, making you want to believe, especially when his tone and eyes carried such certainty, as though whatever he said would become reality.

Except for the part about Akari Hojo being his ex. That defied all logic, and she refused to accept it.

“I…” She opened her mouth, managed only a single syllable, then fell silent.

Alan shook his head, picked up his chopsticks again, and spoke unhurriedly.

“I’m not asking for promises. If you still think this is unrealistic, let’s make it concrete. For every small goal you achieve following my instructions, I’ll wire you one million yen. Deal?”

“?!”

Nozomi’s eyes flew wide.

In an instant, the image of her imposing father plunged into the Mariana Trench.

She nearly shouted, "Give me my first mission, commander!"

But a sudden buzz cut the impulse short, saving the last shred of her dignity.

Bzzzt.

Alan had just lifted a bite of rice when his phone screen lit up.

Caller ID: Aunt.

A bad premonition flashed through him.

He set the chopsticks down, eyes narrowing. After two seconds of hesitation, he stood and stepped away to take the call.

“Give me a moment.”

Nozomi tilted her head, mildly curious about the caller.