After spending so much time with geniuses, getting to interact with ordinary people again made Suzuki Yuu feel a wave of comfort.
“Shiraishi really is adorable. I can’t even imagine what kind of bastard she’ll end up marrying in the future.”
He found it amusing when he remembered the bewildered, clueless look on Shiraishi Ayaha’s face as she did her homework last night.
Of course, tutoring someone itself was a bit of a mental torture, especially with math. No matter how he explained it, Shiraishi Ayaha always looked confused, and it cost him a lot of effort.
“I guess I’ve gotten too used to being around those clever ojou-samas. I can’t quite adjust when I meet someone a little slower.”
Suzuki Yuu’s thoughts drifted, and just then, a sleek, black luxury sedan slid silently to a stop in front of him, without making the slightest unnecessary noise. The window rolled down, and in the back seat sat Jinguu Amane.
Today, she wasn’t wearing her student council president uniform, but instead had on a cream-colored silk dress, with two small pearl buttons at the collar that swayed gently as she breathed. Her long black hair, instead of being left loose as usual, was tied back with a matching ribbon, making her look utterly relaxed.
“Good morning, Suzuki. Have you been waiting long?”
“Just got here.” Suzuki Yuu opened the car door and sat down beside her.
In his hand was that black-and-gold invitation, and his phone screen still displayed an introduction to the art exhibition.
“There’s no need to take it so seriously. We’re just there to show support.” Jinguu Amane smiled as her gaze fell on the information Suzuki Yuu held.
“Since I’m accompanying you, senpai, I should at least take it seriously. And besides, this counts as a learning experience, doesn’t it? No harm in learning a bit more.” Suzuki Yuu explained.
“Oh? So you understand art, Suzuki Yuu?”
“Just a little—I studied some painting in middle school.”
“You really are multi-talented, huh.”
With a teasing remark, Jinguu Amane turned her gaze out the car window.
The scenery outside raced by. From the residential area to the commercial district, the buildings grew more upscale, and the people on the streets looked more refined.
Suzuki Yuu didn’t feel any stage fright. After all, in the past, he’d accompanied Shiina Chisa to plenty of high-end venues.
At first, he’d thought those places required exceptional sophistication, but once he was actually there, he realized there was only one thing he needed to do:
Watch more, speak less. Compliment those older than you, act mysterious with those younger.
As long as you didn’t aim to form deep connections, this process rarely went wrong.
There’d always be a few idiots who found him mysterious and tried to get to know him better.
Thinking this, Suzuki Yuu straightened his tie, made sure his outfit was perfect, then got out of the car with Jinguu Amane.
They were greeted by an old man in a well-tailored three-piece suit, a vintage top hat on his head, and a silver-tipped cane in his hand.
“Miss Amane, welcome.” The old man bowed slightly, his voice steady. “Your mother asked me to receive you.”
“Thank you for your trouble, Mr. Yoshihara.” Jinguu Amane nodded politely.
“And this is…?”
Yoshihara’s gaze turned to Suzuki Yuu, curiosity in his eyes.
“This is my underclassman from school. I asked him to come with me—hope that’s not a problem?”
Before Suzuki Yuu could answer, Jinguu Amane jumped in with an explanation.
It was a perfectly normal explanation, but the old man stared at Suzuki Yuu for a long while, a hesitant look on his face.
“You really are just like your mother.”
After a while, he finally squeezed out those words.
“That’s not quite right. Suzuki genuinely wants to be close to me.”
Jinguu Amane said with a gentle smile, and pinched Suzuki Yuu’s arm for good measure.
“Ah, yes, I really am drawn in by Amane’s charm.”
Completely lost by their exchange, Suzuki Yuu caught Jinguu’s hint and quickly played along in front of Yoshihara.
“Is that so…” The old man fell silent again, but suddenly seemed to have figured something out. “Well, it’s not my place to pry. Go on inside.”
With that, Yoshihara turned to lead the way.
Jinguu Amane gently hooked her arm around Suzuki Yuu’s, the two of them following side by side behind the old man.
The movement was so natural it almost seemed like they really were a couple.
A warm breath brushed his ear, making Suzuki Yuu instinctively tilt his head.
They walked through a spacious lobby into the exhibition’s main hall.
It felt less like an art exhibition and more like a gathering of high society.
Guests in elegant attire held champagne, chatting in small groups. Occasionally someone paused in front of a painting, but most of the attention was on each other, not on the artwork on the walls.
Suzuki Yuu wasn’t interested in these people. While it was good to expand one’s social network, he knew that in such circles, interactions were always mutually beneficial.
Right now, he could only benefit from others, not offer much in return.
“Miss Amane, please feel free to look around.” Yoshihara nodded slightly. “If you need anything, just call for me.”
“Thank you, Mr. Yoshihara.”
Once the old man had walked away, Suzuki Yuu finally spoke.
“It feels like most people aren’t actually here for the art…”
“Of course. Most people are like me—just pretending to understand. At most, they stand in front of a painting and offer a few compliments.”
“What a boring charade.”
Suzuki Yuu muttered, but soon his attention was caught by a model of a building.
It wasn’t that the building was particularly impressive, but that it looked out of place among the exhibits.
A little too ordinary.
The model sat in the corner of the main hall’s display area, not protected by a fancy glass case, just simply surrounded by clear acrylic panels.
Only up close did Suzuki Yuu see clearly—it was a model of a small two-story apartment building: the red brick pattern was painted by hand, the windows made from cut plastic sheets, and even the furniture inside was of a simple style. A small sofa in the living room, a single bed in the bedroom; it all looked a little shy, but gave off an earnest, sincere feeling.
Compared to the gold-framed oil paintings and sculptures with professional description cards, this model looked like a neighborhood kid who’d wandered into a ballroom by mistake—plain, but oddly eye-catching.
He looked for the creator’s name.
“Mizutani Seisen…”
Nope, never heard of them. Probably not someone famous, but being exhibited here, maybe there was something about it that his shallow perspective couldn’t appreciate.
As Suzuki Yuu’s mind wandered, a middle-aged man suddenly approached Jinguu Amane.
“Miss Jinguu, long time no see.”
“Hello, it’s been a while.”
Unlike the polite response she gave Yoshihara, Jinguu Amane was much less enthusiastic with this man, but he continued anyway:
“Mr. Mizutani’s work has been displayed as your mother requested. I wanted to ask about the previous cooperation…”
It seemed to be something related to Jinguu Amane’s family, so Suzuki Yuu decided to keep quiet and observe.
After all, it had nothing to do with him.
But then, Jinguu Amane’s reply left him dumbfounded:
“I need to use the restroom. If you have any requests, please discuss them with my boyfriend—he’ll give you a suitable answer.”
Huh, me?
Suzuki Yuu’s pupils quaked.
Jinguu Amane’s words were light as a feather, but to his ears, they landed like thunder. She didn’t even give him a glance as a warning—she simply finished speaking, turned with elegance, and strode off into the crowd toward the lounge, leaving him and the stunned middle-aged man face-to-face.
Boyfriend? Discuss? Suitable answer?
He hadn’t even set foot in Jinguu Amane’s house, let alone knew anything about the family’s business!
This woman was doing this on purpose!
But he couldn’t refuse, so with a silent sigh, he braced himself and stepped forward:
“Hello, I’m Suzuki Yuu. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Mr. Suzuki… I’ve heard so much about you.”
A blatant lie, and Suzuki Yuu knew he wasn’t famous and had never met this man before.
Suzuki Yuu could sense the man’s hesitation, so to put an end to this farce as quickly as possible, he spoke bluntly:
“Just tell me what you’re asking for.”
“Ah, it’s about what I discussed with Mrs. Jinguu last week, about opening a location in Shibuya—”
“Sorry, that’s not possible.”
Before the man could finish, Suzuki Yuu cut him off.
Since Jinguu Amane had left this to him, she probably wanted it rejected anyway, so he didn’t even bother listening to the details.
The middle-aged man was clearly stunned for a few seconds, then his whole face flushed red as he gritted his teeth and demanded:
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like you. You rub me the wrong way.”
Suzuki Yuu didn’t mince words. From the start, Jinguu probably wanted him to be the scapegoat anyway.
So he braced himself for a scolding.
As expected, the man finally lost it and snapped:
“You’re just another pretty boy being kept by the Jinguu family, just like Mizutani. What right do you have to meddle in these affairs?”
Though angry, the man’s tone was still restrained, as if he didn’t dare make too big a scene.
But Suzuki Yuu, hearing this, was even more confused:
“Mizutani? Pretty boy? Kept?”