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She, Shihou Chouko, finally realized it now.
She was a useless, foolish girl who couldn’t do anything at all.
From the moment Harutaki declared that he was still a virgin, she understood something painfully clearly—there was nothing she could give him in return.
Not even the simplest, most direct offering of her body.
Saving one’s first time for the person you truly love, only doing it after both sides have made their feelings clear…
That really did sound exactly like something Harutaki would say, she thought. Cool and dashing, unmistakably the words of a “scumbag” who was incredibly good at winning girls over—yet somehow, he inspired no disgust at all.
Then… could she convey her feelings to him now?
Were the feelings she wanted to convey truly “love”?
She wanted to be held in Harutaki’s arms—that warm, dependable sensation made it impossible to pull away.
She wanted to sleep while hugging him—that peaceful, relaxed feeling felt like sinking into a beautiful dream.
She wanted to go eat donuts with him again, to go cherry-blossom viewing picnics together, to let him taste the dishes she had carefully prepared, to enjoy his gentle care and superb cooking, to spend the remaining two years of school life together with him, Izumi, and everyone else…
This was “liking” someone, right?
But—
Through the gaps of her jet-black bangs, Chouko looked up at her mother, Shouko’s face, and saw the young woman’s expression growing colder and more strained.
She could no longer resist her mother.
She could no longer, as she had before, threaten the people who cared about her by hurting herself.
Harutaki was someone she loved, and someone who loved her—an irreplaceable presence. But her great-grandmother, her father, and her mother were the same: people she loved, and who loved her deeply.
Being forced into an impasse where she had to choose between the two sides made her think of that famous “dilemma”—
If your mother and your wife were both drowning, and you could only save one, who would you save?
There were many versions of the question, but all of them were designed to torment the one answering, forcing them to give something up, to make a sacrifice.
Why did there have to be only A and B?
Why couldn’t there be a third option, C?
Chouko clenched her hands at her sides, gripping her skirt tightly.
If it were Harutaki… if it were him—
Even if that third option didn’t exist, even if it seemed completely impossible, he would definitely find a way, wouldn’t he?
Just like when he saved her from that karaoke room.
In the instant before her consciousness slipped away, she had been utterly desperate.
Just like when he comforted her, directly and decisively shattering the shadow that had taken root in her heart.
After breaking free from that pitch-black, terrifying abyss, she had thought the trauma of nearly being violated would never fade. She had believed she would suffer nightmare after nightmare, unable to sleep in peace.
Just like when he helped her—“sacrificing himself” so that she, Izumi, Sae, and Minako could become friends.
She had never imagined that she could have friends besides Onii, friends she could sincerely treat in a completely “normal” way.
Harutaki was capable of anything, she thought.
If it were him, he could definitely do it.
Her eyes, brimming with hope and longing, turned toward the figure standing in front of her mother.
…
“Thank you very much, everyone, for your encouragement and help, but… please stop.”
After taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, Harutaki looked around at the crowd. Facing the gazes filled with expectation, admiration, approval, and encouragement, he bowed deeply to the onlookers once again.
“I’m sorry for taking up everyone’s time. But I want to earn Auntie’s approval through my own efforts—not by forcing her hand like this… not by using the atmosphere to pressure her.”
Harutaki truly hadn’t expected things to escalate this far.
To be honest, he had only hoped to help Chouko out of her predicament while also earning a bit more goodwill and recognition from her mother.
But…
Could he really say he hadn’t anticipated this outcome at all? That he hadn’t imagined what might happen after acting that way?
Impossible.
Even if it had been an improvised decision, he had to reflect on what he had truly been thinking in that moment.
Inciting a crowd, using atmosphere as leverage, applying pressure until the other party yielded, even agreeing to conditions they never wanted to accept—
He had seen it countless times. Whether it was self-righteous sentimentality or deliberate coercion—
Holding a bouquet of flowers, arranging candles into shapes, or both at once… creating a charged public atmosphere where rejecting the confession made the person seem like they had done something wrong, like they were betraying everyone’s expectations.
What should have been the final, natural push at the end of a process often turned into a tool steeped in malice.
After turning down several girls who rushed over asking for his contact information, Harutaki turned back and met Shouko’s pale reddish eyes.
“I’m sorry, Auntie. What happened just now was entirely my fault. I caused you trouble.”
…
A virgin, huh…
Shouko suddenly wanted to laugh—but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t.
This boy was serious.
Although people from prestigious families were usually low-key, and in outsiders’ eyes conservative and rigid—old fossils who sat formally on cushions even while eating—
Rules were rules, but people from distinguished families were still people. Who didn’t want to live comfortably?
At home, as long as they weren’t dining with outsiders or the family matriarch, they naturally ate however they liked…
Just as she understood modern young people’s values and ways of thinking.
“Virginity is gross, chastity is shameful.”
An obsession with individuality and appearances, hollow on the inside—distorted values that had influenced far too many.
Yet there were those who didn’t agree with such thinking. Because of group pressure, or even society-wide “atmosphere,” they could only choose silence, too ashamed to reveal such identities, terrified of being excluded, isolated, mocked, or ridiculed.
She couldn’t help but regret her earlier questioning.
As a mother, she had failed to consider her daughter’s feelings—yet the boy she had regarded as a “hungry wolf” had stepped forward to shield Chouko from scrutiny.
And then there was that line—
“After clearly confirming each other’s feelings, saving one’s first time for the person you truly love.”
That sentence alone made her freeze.
It was almost identical to the values and beliefs she herself had once taught Chouko—the same as Hoshikawa’s “resolve.”
Her hostility and preconceptions toward the boy began to waver.
Perhaps, she thought, he wasn’t some ill-intentioned “hungry wolf” at all, but someone who genuinely loved and cherished Chouko—and was loved by her in return.
However, what followed plunged Shouko into icy depths.
The countless gazes converging on her.
The overlapping voices of discussion and urging.
The condescending opinions and comments.
This scene was far too familiar.
Because this was exactly how Chouko’s father had once confessed to her at school.
With her conservative mindset, even if she felt some affection, she had hoped for a gradual, step-by-step process…
Yet that man had knelt on one knee in the middle of campus, holding flowers, and confessed publicly.
“Say yes!”
“Accept him!”
“That’s the heir of the Shihou family!”
The atmosphere condensed into a crushing weight, pressing down on her, shattering her emotional defenses.
Even her friends urged her on. Dazed and confused, she could only agree—and had to smile happily, otherwise she would be seen as arrogant and ungrateful.
“Oh? Not bowing this time?”
Facing the boy who was apologizing to her for the second time today, Shouko’s tone carried a hint of resentment.
“Bowing can be used to hide sincerity. But I don’t think true remorse can be represented by a single bow.”
What a ridiculous argument…
And yet, looking into the boy’s deep violet eyes, she found herself believing him.
Or rather—wanting to believe him.
If only, back then, he could have done the same.
Even though she and her husband later married smoothly and her life in the Shihou family was considered happy, that confession remained a thorn buried deep in her heart, impossible to pull out.
“Hah…”
She let out a soft breath, calming herself, her tone returning to its original composure.
“Then tell me, Hoshikawa-kun. How do you intend to show the sincerity of your apology?”
“Of course, by proving it through action. Just like when someone’s caught littering—no matter how many apologies they give, it’s better to pick up the trash and throw it into the bin.”
Harutaki’s calm, unflustered expression never wavered.
“And your proof?”
She was genuinely curious now—what kind of concrete action this boy would take.
Protecting the dreams of the daughter you love most, Harutaki thought to himself, before speaking aloud:
“I’d like to ask you to give Shihou one more chance… and allow her to continue staying in Tokyo.”