Kotomi Izumi started high school this year, and in just two or three years, she’d be graduating. Naturally, many elite families hoping to marry into the Izumi household had already begun visiting Yakken Izumi.

There were even more than when Kaneyoshi Izumi was in high school.

It was understandable—Kotomi’s beauty was the kind that, even from afar, left a lasting impression one could never forget.

In recent months, so many proposals and marriage alliance talks had come through that they were practically wearing down the doorstep.

Unfortunately for them, Yakken Izumi hated nothing more than people trying to push his daughters or granddaughters into marriage alliances for profit.

If Kotomi or Aimi genuinely fell in love with someone from another elite family, he wouldn’t say a word. But the problem was—he didn’t even know if Kotomi liked anyone at all.

First, if either Kotomi or Aimi already had someone they liked, forcing a marriage without asking could lead to a tragic love story. Neither Yakken nor Harumari would ever do something so heartless.

Second, as grandparents, all they wanted was for their granddaughters to be happy. So pushing them into marriage alliances was absolutely off the table.

Which is why, every time someone brought up marriage, Yakken Izumi would curse them out and promptly show them the door—”politely escorted out” by Izumi family standards.

As for why he called to ask if Kotomi had someone she liked?

It wasn’t to vet her partner’s status or family background. He wasn’t the type to break up young love just because it wasn’t advantageous.

The reason was simple. Old folks, once they reach a certain age and have grandkids, start wondering when they’ll get to hold a great-grandchild.

That was all. That’s why Yakken and Harumari had called Kaneyoshi.

But now, back in the present, Kaneyoshi and Akina exchanged glances—neither of them knew what to say.

“Honey, have you thought of how to reply to Mom and Dad? We can’t exactly say Kotomi not only has a crush, but is also stringing along three girls!”

“Of course not. Mom hasn’t been in the best health lately—if we told her that, it’d probably shock her into another episode,” Kaneyoshi said flatly.

No matter what, that was something they could never reveal to the family.

On their way home, Kaneyoshi mulled things over and then said:

“I’ll call Dad later and tell him that Kotomi’s suddenly gotten serious about school. She’s been studying day and night, has no time, and no interest in dating right now.”

“And anyway, Dad’s call wasn’t just to find out if Kotomi has a boyfriend or girlfriend. He wanted an excuse—a reason he could use to confidently shut down all the marriage proposals people keep bringing to him.”

“If we say she’s focused on studying, it’s not as powerful as saying ‘she already has someone,’ but it’s enough to keep most of them at bay.”

“Wow! You’re amazing, honey—you read all of that between the lines!” Akina said with admiration, like a fangirl.

“Well, I was trained by Dad since childhood. Understanding his hidden meanings isn’t that hard.”

And just like that, the marriage talk was tabled.

Thanks to Kaneyoshi’s methodical redirection, Akina’s fury over Kotomi’s “three-ship situation” gradually cooled.

Kotomi’s butt was safe… for now.

And where was this supposedly study-obsessed Kotomi?

Off sightseeing in Kyoto with Mashiro Shiina, of course.

After all, today was her last day in Kyoto. The first round of the National Art Exhibition was ending that evening, with a closing ceremony that all selected participants were expected to attend.

In practice, it was just a few speeches from the judges, followed by a group dinner.

Unlike when they first arrived, the closing ceremony for the first exhibition wasn’t just another round of long, boring speeches. Because professors from the art departments of both the University of Tokyo and Kyoto University would be attending, it was something most of the selected artists were genuinely looking forward to.

Some were even secretly hoping to impress one of those elite professors enough to exchange contact info—maybe even improve their odds when applying to one of those top universities later.

Kotomi Izumi and Mashiro Shiina, however, weren’t too concerned about the ceremony itself. They planned to attend, of course, especially since afterward there would be a luxurious banquet hosted by the organizers at a five-star hotel.

Kotomi originally hadn’t wanted to attend, especially after hearing it would be one of those standing receptions with no chairs—champagne in hand, guests mingling around like it was some posh cocktail party. Kotomi much preferred sitting—or even lying down—while eating.

But then she saw the banquet menu and immediately changed her mind.

Not because I’m a glutton or anything, she told herself. I just want to immerse myself more deeply in the world of art!

There was still half a day before the ceremony began, so Kotomi and Mashiro decided to spend the afternoon exploring Kyoto and enjoying its daytime beauty.

Somehow, as they walked, their hands naturally found each other and intertwined—a casual, almost habitual gesture of walking side-by-side.

When Kotomi realized, she didn’t let go. Mashiro’s hand was just too comfortable to hold. Still, she made a mental note to break this habit once they returned to Chiba.

“I remember my cousin once said Kyoto is full of beauties. Kotomi, have you met any during these three days?”

She had, actually. When she visited Gion’s Hanamachi district, she’d encountered two.

One was Ayani Kika, a renowned name Kotomi instantly recognized.

The other, Kotomi hadn’t identified at the time, but later remembered—Hayami Oshika. Petite and graceful, and when not in geisha makeup, she was dazzlingly eye-catching in her fashion.

Kotomi recalled all this silently but replied aloud in a calm voice:

“Kyoto does have a lot of beautiful women, but to me, they’re just fleeting faces. I didn’t talk to any—didn’t even really notice. Honestly, if you hadn’t brought it up just now, I wouldn’t have remembered Kyoto had that reputation.”

She spoke with noble detachment—while secretly reminding herself to delete that browser history: “Which areas of Kyoto have the most beautiful women?”

Mashiro let out a soft, involuntary smile at Kotomi’s words. She wasn’t sure why, but it made her inexplicably happy.

And then, a sweet and alluring voice wafted through the air, like a perfume-laced breeze drifting into Kotomi’s ears.

“From afar, I thought to myself, ‘Whose silhouette feels so familiar, so engraved in my thoughts?’ And now that I’ve come closer, I see it’s the lovely little sister I regretted not speaking with more last time~ What a beautiful twist of fate.”

“Little sister, would you be kind enough to tell this big sister your name?”

The moment Kotomi heard that voice, her hairs stood on end.

She knew exactly who it belonged to.

She slowly turned her head, stiff as a statue—only to meet the charming, sly smile of Ayani Kika.

Mashiro had heard it too—and seen it all.

Her once-sweet smile instantly vanished into a cold, frosty expression.

…

Kotomi wondered if she’d forgotten to check the calendar today.

She had planned to spend her final day in Kyoto leisurely sightseeing with Mashiro. Even though autumn and winter meant no cherry blossoms, the beauty of Kyoto was still breathtaking. Under such scenic charm, she’d hoped to maybe pen a timeless poem that would shock the world and echo through history.

Unfortunately, Kotomi lacked the talent for that. Writing novels, flirting with girls, or throwing out a witty jab—sure. But poetry? She hadn’t even memorized half the ancient poems in her textbook, let alone write one of her own. Even if her writing stats were maxed out, there was no saving that endeavor!

That was fine though. She wasn’t about to force it. All she really wanted was to wander Kyoto holding Mashiro’s hand, taking in the sights.

After all, once they returned to Chiba, she wouldn’t be able to casually hold Mashiro’s hand like this anymore…

Unaware that her favorability score in Mashiro’s heart had already maxed out—and was veering into dangerous territory—Kotomi was still trying to make the most of their time in Kyoto, hoping to earn more affection points.

She had just been about to say something cheesy like, “This scenery is beautiful, but not as beautiful as you,” when fate decided to intervene.

Enter Ayani Kika.

If it weren’t for the need to hide her panic, Kotomi would’ve wiped away the cold sweat forming on her brow. She wasn’t stupid—she knew exactly what kind of situation this was.

She had just boldly declared to Mashiro that she hadn’t looked at a single other woman in Kyoto, that her eyes had been only for her. She had been one breath away from saying: “Mashiro, you’re the only one I see.”

Such a line would be absolutely devastating to any girl’s heart. Hear it, and you fall.

Of course, Kotomi wasn’t actually planning to say that—not now, anyway. She knew she had to keep her pace steady and measured.

Just as she was carefully trying to walk that line, this perfect storm of coincidence dropped Ayani Kika into her path…

Had she been alone, Kotomi wouldn’t have been fazed. She might’ve even welcomed the encounter, exchanging clever lines with the top oiran of Gion like old friends. Things might’ve taken a surprise turn, flowers and all.

But the problem was—Mashiro was standing right beside her.

And Ayani Kika, that dastardly woman, had attacked without warning—ambushed her, even! No time to react, no time to prepare. She came up from behind!

If Kotomi had seen her from a distance, had just a few seconds to compose herself, she might’ve found a way to dodge this bullet.

Any amount of reaction time would’ve helped. At the very least, it might’ve stopped Mashiro from looking so…

Well, angry.

Was Mashiro actually mad?

If the other members of the art club had seen this, they would’ve been shocked.

Since transferring to Sobu High School and joining the art club, Mashiro rarely spoke to anyone. She’d just arrive, silently work on her paintings, and when the final bell rang, she’d pack up and leave with Kotomi.

To most of the art club, their relationship didn’t seem like classmates. More like… owner and pet.

Kotomi was the owner. Mashiro, the pet.

Some members had worried whether they’d get along with Mashiro.

After all, she was a world-class painting prodigy. She’d had artwork displayed in the Louvre when she was still in elementary school.

Some might feel jealous or annoyed by her—but even so, no one could deny her talent. In painting, Mashiro was unmatched, past or present.

Even within the Shiina family, she was one of a kind. “Once in a generation” didn’t even begin to describe how rare her gift was.

A genius painter born with unmatched talent—recognized on the world stage and leaving her mark in the art world from an early age—someone like that would understandably carry a bit of pride.

And people with pride are often the hardest to get along with.

So, before Mashiro joined the art club, the other members had their concerns—and rightfully so.

But after spending some time with her, they were shocked to discover that while Mashiro mostly kept to herself, as long as you asked her art-related questions before she began painting, she would always answer with surprising patience.

Whether they could understand the guidance of a genius? That was on them.

Mashiro didn’t talk much, but over a month in, she hadn’t had any conflicts with any of the art club members.

And this was an all-girls club.

Groups of girls might look harmonious on the outside, but it only takes a small misstep for cracks to form beneath the surface.

With boys, a conflict might lead to silence—or even a fistfight that somehow ends in friendship.

But girls?

Kotomi had seen firsthand how messy that could get back in junior high. After that, she realized those palace drama shows weren’t exaggerated at all—if anything, they were being too tame.

Anyway, even Kotomi had never seen Mashiro angry. Even when she showed a hint of frustration, it would fade quickly, no coaxing required.

Which was why seeing Mashiro’s face now—completely frozen with a chill—Kotomi didn’t dare say anything careless. But she couldn’t just ignore Ayani Kika either; that would be too rude. So, she forced herself to respond:

“Miss Ayani, we only met in passing last time. I didn’t expect you to remember me. That’s truly an honor.”

Kotomi offered a polite smile, doing her best to project the image of a courteous, distant acquaintance in front of Mashiro.

A “just-met-once” kind of polite.

Not that she and Ayani really knew each other. Kotomi only knew Ayani’s name because it was so famous—anyone in Kyoto did. Ayani, on the other hand, didn’t even know her name.

Kotomi felt so wronged. If this had been some other girl she was seen close with, Mashiro getting upset would’ve made sense.

But she and Ayani? They hadn’t even touched hands!

Getting misunderstood for this? Absolute highway robbery.

True, Ayani had once invited her to Gion to sing a song for her.

But Kotomi, despite talking big about Gion performances, had totally chickened out. When faced with the number one oiran’s invitation, she panicked and ran. Literally. That scene had become the talk of Gion’s Hanamachi for days.

First, because Ayani Kika’s status was just that high.

Second, because she had never taken the initiative to invite someone to hear her sing.

She’d only glanced at Kotomi briefly that day before acting on a sudden whim.

And Kotomi bolted.

Everyone was stunned. Ayani herself sat in front of the mirror that night, sulking.

Was her charm fading?

Was it the geisha makeup that scared Kotomi away?

Absolutely not.

She ruled out the first one instantly. An oiran had her pride!

So, with Gion quiet these days, Ayani removed her geisha makeup and strolled around Kyoto’s bustling streets like a regular woman. It gave her a chance to relax—something she rarely got to do—and maybe, just maybe, run into that mesmerizing silver-haired girl again.

She hadn’t been surprised by Kotomi’s comment just now. They’d only exchanged glances last time. She didn’t even know Kotomi’s name.

But hearing the tension in Kotomi’s voice, and seeing the cold expression of the girl beside her, Ayani quickly pieced things together.

A strange delight filled her heart.

She smiled gently and picked up where Kotomi left off, offering a version of the story that would sound more credible—and smooth over the misunderstanding.

“Yes, it was my fault back then. Out of reserve, I didn’t come forward to ask your name. That was rude of me and must’ve startled you—no wonder you turned and walked away. I’ve been looking for you around Kyoto these past few days—not for anything special, just to offer my apology.”

Her tone was light and graceful. It was clearly just far enough—not too close, not too cold—and did wonders to dispel the misunderstanding Mashiro might’ve had.

Sure enough, after listening to their stilted, unfamiliar exchange, Mashiro’s frosty demeanor finally began to thaw.

The misunderstanding had been cleared up.

But even so, Mashiro clutched the sleeve of Kotomi’s coat tightly, as if afraid someone might try to take her away.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep