Kaoru Hoshitani held the laminated menu in his hands, head slightly bowed, his gaze wandering aimlessly among options like “Kachara Ramen,” “Shio Ramen,” and “Shoyu Ramen.”
The air was thick with the rich aroma of Pork Bone Broth, the charred scent of grilled Char Siu, and the pungent sharpness of Minced Garlic, making the place feel a bit stuffy.
He didn’t really have much of an appetite; his mood was still in turmoil from the relentless morning shopping spree and the presence of the woman beside him, but the hunger in his body was undeniable.
He hesitated, wondering if he should just order the most basic Shio Ramen.
Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he sharply caught sight of a figure who didn’t belong to the busy restaurant staff, standing quietly beside their booth.
That figure blocked part of the light coming from the side, casting a slender shadow.
Judging by her attire in the periphery—a refined black dress, perfectly tailored, the fabric carrying a subtle sheen—she was clearly not one of the affordable ramen shop’s servers.
Moreover, the person just stood there, not asking for an order nor showing any sign of leaving. This silent lingering brought an inexplicable, almost scrutinizing sense of intrusion.
Kaoru Hoshitani furrowed his elegant brows, a flicker of annoyance and confusion rising in his heart at the interruption.
Instinctively, with a hint of caution, he slowly lifted his head, his gaze moving away from the colorful menu pictures to look at the uninvited guest standing by the table.
Then…
Then he froze, as if struck by an invisible current. His fingers gripped the edge of the menu ever so slightly.
He didn’t know what expression he wore at that moment—the usual dewy, doe-like eyes widening just a little, clearly reflecting astonishment and dazed wonder, his soft pink lips parting in surprise.
In truth, the look on his face now was almost identical to the expressions of shock he’d seen earlier on Ginza’s streets and in luxury shops, when passersby or shop assistants first caught a clear glimpse of his appearance.
It was the most primitive and direct instinctive reaction of a human being in the face of a “beauty” that surpassed ordinary comprehension.
[Am I… running into a TV celebrity? Or maybe a member of some idol group?]
This was the first, somewhat bewildered thought that sprang into Kaoru Hoshitani’s mind as he took in the full appearance of the young woman standing at their table.
There was no other explanation—the girl in the black dress before him was simply too striking, her presence far too distinct.
She wasn’t like Rika Kawasaki, who exuded an aggressive, wild, and untamed aura.
Instead, she was the epitome of what mainstream society, especially many men, imagined as the “dream girl” or the heroine of a youth romance drama—elegant, poised, the classic image of an upper-class young lady untouched by the mundane world.
Her features were soft and exquisite, each line seemingly carved with great care, carrying the delicate grace and gentle beauty extolled by traditional Eastern aesthetics.
Her skin was flawless and cool-toned, still radiant and lustrous under the ramen shop’s slightly dim lights, like fine white jade.
Her jawline was smooth and graceful, connecting to a long, pale neck.
Most striking of all was her hair—long, straight, jet-black, entirely undyed and unpermed.
The hair quality was superb, like the finest black silk, shining with healthy luster and flowing smoothly down her back, the ends almost brushing her slender waist.
As she turned her head slightly, her hair cascaded like a waterfall, releasing a faint, elegant fragrance that stood apart from the restaurant’s food aromas.
Her height and figure were also developed to just the right extent, about 175 centimeters tall—a tall figure among women.
Her physique was upright and well-proportioned, her curves alluring but never gaunt or excessive, radiating youthful vitality and healthy beauty.
Wrapped in the elegantly tailored black dress, her form looked even more slender and graceful.
In short, the looks and presence of this girl in the black dress were undoubtedly the kind of “perfect woman” template most popular and desired in mainstream society—beautiful, elegant, dignified, with a sense of distance yet inexplicably alluring.
As Kaoru Hoshitani gazed at her in wonder and confusion, their eyes finally met just as the girl shifted her gaze from Rika Kawasaki back to his face.
Their gazes crossed in midair.
Kaoru Hoshitani’s heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason.
He saw her eyes—the color of her pupils was… a unique, cool-toned gray.
That gray… gave him a strange sense of déjà vu, as if he’d seen it somewhere before, but he couldn’t recall where.
Those gray eyes were fixed on him now, filled with complex emotions—curiosity, inquiry, assessment, and perhaps even a touch of… unexplainable heat that made him uncomfortable?
But before Kaoru Hoshitani could ponder further, the girl in the black dress was the first to break their eye contact, turning her attention back to Rika Kawasaki, whose face had noticeably darkened since a moment ago.
A flawless, perfectly measured smile appeared on the girl’s face—one of just the right surprise and intimacy, as if that brief moment of eye contact with a stranger had never happened.
With a voice that was sweet and crisp yet not cloying, she smiled and asked,
“So it really is you, Sister? What a coincidence. What brings you to a place like this?”
Her tone was so natural it sounded like running into family, but there was a subtle, almost imperceptible upward lilt at the end—hinting at a probing intent.
Then, as if just noticing Kaoru Hoshitani’s presence, her gaze shifted back to him, her curiosity and amusement even more apparent, her voice softening,
“And… this is…? A friend of yours, Sister? I don’t think I’ve seen him before.”
“Sis… Sister…?”
Kaoru Hoshitani was stunned yet again by how naturally the girl in the black dress addressed Rika Kawasaki, his delicate face displaying unrestrained shock.
He instinctively glanced at Rika Kawasaki across from him, her face ashen, an aura of low pressure emanating from her whole body.
That blond hair, the wild clothing, those gray eyes usually burning with anger or desire; then he looked back at the elegant, dignified girl beside him in the black dress.
From their hair color, aura, fashion sense, and overall presence, the two seemed to hail from entirely different—even opposite—worlds. No one would think of them as “sisters” at first glance.
The stark contrast left him unable to process it for a moment.
[Oh, right…]
A thought flashed through his mind like lightning, and Kaoru Hoshitani suddenly realized,
[Those eyes… the gray eyes…]
He finally understood where that odd sense of familiarity came from.
Rika Kawasaki also had a pair of gray eyes. Though their usual emotions were completely different, that distinctive gray iris was unmistakably the same!
This realization brought an even deeper sense of unease, and he had a faint premonition that things might be even more complicated than he’d thought.
“Why are you here?”
Rika Kawasaki’s voice cut in, snapping Kaoru Hoshitani out of his thoughts.
Her tone was low, simmering with obvious anger, each word squeezed through gritted teeth.
Her gray eyes stared daggers at her sudden, unwelcome little sister, Chinatsu Ayase, her face so grim it looked like it could drip water.
Of course, she’d noticed it—just now, when Kaoru Hoshitani lifted his head and looked at Chinatsu Ayase, those doe-like eyes flashed unmistakable amazement and dazed wonder.
That look was like a spark falling into her possessive oil vat, instantly igniting a nameless, wild flame in her chest that burned her insides with irritation and pain.
Though in her own eyes, Chinatsu Ayase—prancing around in a skirt, putting on airs, so delicate she looked like she’d collapse at a touch—could never be called a real “woman,” lacking strength and wildness, fake and pretentious.
But she was not entirely oblivious to current social trends.
She knew all too well that many young men today, especially those well-protected, gentle, or even timid types, were especially drawn to that!
They were more easily captivated by the “young lady” image that looked gentle, elegant, and in need of protection, believing that was the ideal woman.
Kaoru Hoshitani’s stunned reaction just now proved it—leaving her with the aggravating sense that her precious treasure was being judged, even coveted, by others’ standards.
[Perfect! Yes! That’s it! That expression… it’s perfect!!!!]
Completely opposite Rika Kawasaki’s raging fury, Chinatsu Ayase, having caught the undisguised gloom, displeasure, and even what she interpreted as “apprehension” or “nervousness” on her sister’s face, was instantly swept away by a torrent of joy, nearly excited enough to scream out loud!
She’d searched and observed for so long, and finally! Finally, she saw it!
She saw such vivid, so “human” negative emotion on Rika Kawasaki’s face—usually written off with indifference, carelessness, or even mockery.
And this emotion was clearly provoked by her noticing this beautiful man!
It proved her judgment was right. This man was special to Rika Kawasaki!
He was someone she cared about!
Choking back the urge to cry out in excitement, Chinatsu Ayase forced herself to remain outwardly calm, even maintaining a touch of perfect innocence.
She turned her head again, her gaze settling once more on Kaoru Hoshitani’s pure and exquisite face, which still showed a bit of confusion and surprise.
Up close, this face truly possessed a mesmerizing charm—a beauty with a fragility that even she could not help but feel moved by.
Her pink tongue slipped out instinctively, lightning-quick and almost teasing, to lick her somewhat dry lower lip, a flicker of dark, possessive intent glinting deep in her eyes.
[As I thought… you’re special to Sister, aren’t you?]
She asked silently in her heart, the desire to “take” this target growing like wild vines.
Meanwhile, Rika Kawasaki, seeing her little sister completely ignore her furious questioning and, worse, once again direct that probing, interested gaze at Kaoru Hoshitani—who by now she considered entirely off-limits—felt her rage flare to its peak.
Her voice suddenly rose in volume, cutting through the clamor of the ramen shop with a sharp, commanding presence:
“Hey! Chinatsu Ayase! Are you deaf? I’m talking to you! Why are you here?!”
She leaned forward, her hand clenched into a fist, knuckles whitening, a storm brewing in her gray eyes as if she were ready to take even more drastic action at any moment.
Fortunately, thanks to the angle she was sitting at, and with the table and Kaoru Hoshitani blocking her view, she hadn’t seen the flash of possessive, predatory lip-licking Chinatsu Ayase had just directed at Kaoru Hoshitani.
Otherwise, knowing her temper, things would have escalated beyond just raising her voice.
“Ah! S-sorry, Sister!”
Chinatsu Ayase seemed startled by Rika Kawasaki’s sudden shout, her body flinching ever so slightly, her face shifting instantly to one of slight panic and helplessness, like a startled fawn.
She hurriedly waved her hands, lowering her voice and taking on a respectful, slightly apologetic tone,
“Please don’t be angry, Sister… It’s, it’s like this.”
“This ramen shop is one of Quansheng Group’s directly-operated stores.
The store is about to change managers, so we need to do some personnel evaluations and handover work.
I’m just interning in the HR department now, so… today, my senior sent me over to do some on-site research and collect basic information.
It’s really just for work—I had no idea I’d run into you… and this gentleman.”
Her explanation was reasonable, her expression innocent, and she even made a point of stressing “work reasons” and “had no idea,” painting herself as nothing more than an unlucky little sister who’d been scolded by surprise.
Yet beneath her lowered lashes, in the depths of her gray eyes, a fleeting, icy glint of triumph gave away her true feelings.