Chapter 48
The maple trees on the streets of Beika Town seemed to have been painted gold overnight. The transition from summer to autumn felt like the blink of an eye.
Just a few days ago, the weather had been scorching hot. After a few rain showers, a chill gradually seeped into the air. When you put your hand under the faucet, the running water was now cold enough to make you shiver.
“Silver-Haired Model Bro chose a good time,” Fan An said, flicking the water from her fingertips and holding her phone with her shoulder. “If he had jumped into the sea a week later, his chances of survival would have dropped by 80%.”
She had heard from Hiromitsu that when Gin had jumped into the sea, he had taken off his iconic uniform, which he wore even in forty-degree heat, leaving only his pants to battle the raging sea.
Vodka had tearfully collected his big brother’s clothes. In the unfortunate event of Gin’s demise, he could at least erect a cenotaph for his beloved big brother.
“Unfortunately, Gin eventually made it ashore. The atmosphere in the organization has been terrifyingly tense lately.”
Hiromitsu said on the other end of the line, “Having finally found Gin’s weak spot, Pinga is as excited as if he’s on steroids, biting at Gin everywhere. I’m a little worried Gin will put him in a sack in the middle of the night and beat him to death.”
Provocation is an art that disregards one’s own life and death. Pinga had gone too far down this road.
The Undercover Public Security Officer: I envy you real liquor members. You have no qualms about fighting your own people. You’re so confident.
Thanks to Pinga for attracting ninety-nine percent of Gin’s hatred, the cosplay master Scotch Whisky was still an innocent, good liquor.
“By the way, did An’an receive the dried persimmons from Nagano Prefecture?” After updating her on the distillery’s recent situation, Hiromitsu changed the subject. “It’s a local specialty of Nagano. It’s very delicious.”
“It’s already in my mouth,” the girl said, her mouth chewing away as she talked on the phone. “By the way, why does Hiro’s brother know my address?”
Hiromitsu: Because he’s a police officer.
With the frequency An’an went in and out of the Metropolitan Police Department, it would have been difficult for Brother Taka’aki not to know her address.
Although Morofushi Taka’aki couldn’t help his younger brother with his undercover work at the distillery, he could at least repay the girl’s kindness in some small way. Fan An had been signing for an excessive number of packages from Nagano Prefecture these days.
An’an, buried under a mountain of packages: If I remember correctly, it’s just the beginning of autumn. Do I already have to start stocking up on food for the winter?
And there was no one to share the burden with. The new boyfriend An’an had just made had been so busy lately that she hadn’t seen him at all. It had been almost half a month since they had last been in contact.
“He’s as busy as Hiro,” she complained. “I’ve discovered that Tōru-kun is very suitable for your company. If the distillery wasn’t a ruthless enterprise, I would really recommend him to submit his resume.”
Hiromitsu: (guiltily averts gaze.jpg)
Men are all liars, he thought sorrowfully. I’m sorry, me too.
Fan An had no choice but to complain about her boyfriend, who had been obsessed with work and had disappeared for almost half a month right after they had confirmed their relationship, because she was also extremely busy.
…
“Alright, please open your eyes.”
The makeup artist finished the last stroke. She held the girl’s face, admiring it for a long time before reluctantly letting go.
“It’s a masterpiece,” the makeup artist said, cupping her face in admiration. “Do you mind if I give you a kiss?”
“I don’t mind,” An’an said truthfully. “But then the makeup would have to be redone, and Director Yuko, who is standing behind you, might kill someone.”
The makeup artist wasn’t afraid at all. She said with a grin, “Do you think she doesn’t want to kiss you? Come, come, we’ll each take a side.”
Director Yuko coughed forcefully and tapped the makeup artist’s forehead with her rolled-up script. “Stop fooling around. We can’t let personal feelings delay the filming schedule.”
The makeup artist and Director Yuko were old friends. She wasn’t afraid of being tapped on the forehead. As she packed up her cosmetics, she said, “What’s the point of life if you can’t kiss a fragrant and soft cheek… As expected of the main character you chose after so many selections. She’s the heaven-sent party in a crime of passion.”
Miss An: If you’re referring to the suspect, I am indeed very experienced.
“Don’t mind her. Have you memorized your lines?” Director Yuko said, shooing the makeup artist away and reminding her, “You should know that the filming order of a drama is different from the editing order. My personal habit is to follow the weather. On a rainy day, we film the rainy scenes. On a snowy day, we film the snowy scenes.”
This made it easier for the actors to get into character, unlike filming a kiss in the rain on a sunny day, with the two actors standing in front of a water truck, the operator accidentally pressing the horn, and the water truck happily singing a song.
“I’ve memorized them,” Fan An said reliably. “Please rest assured. I am very professional. Even if the water truck is happily singing a song, I can perfectly perform the scene where the female lead stabs the male lead eight times.”
When she had been working part-time at the slaughterhouse, her boss believed that music helped to boost employee morale and often played crosstalk during the pig butchering.
Miss An: Not being disturbed by any external factors. This is professionalism. (thumbs-up.jpg)
“Hey, hey, where in the script does it say I get stabbed eight times?” the actor playing the male lead, Ohara Ryusei, walked over and said with mock dissatisfaction. “Aren’t you being a little too harsh on your lover?”
He was a humorous person, and his few words made the crew burst into laughter.
“It’s a pleasure to work with you,” Ohara Ryusei said, extending his hand to An’an. “We were both played by Director Yuko during the audition.”
“Hello,” An’an said, shaking his hand.
She was always polite to her seniors, so she didn’t point out the fallacy in his words, “we were both played.” An’an had acted according to the script; it was Ohara Ryusei who had unilaterally made a mistake.
Director Yuko glanced at the particularly eager Ohara Ryusei and nodded to herself.
This was a drama with the female lead as the absolute core. The entire plot revolved around her revenge. The male lead in the drama was either being used or on the way to being used.
What he needed to portray was precisely his fascination with the female lead, a crazy infatuation, a love that had lost all reason. He was a complete love-struck fool.
A love-struck fool is actually not easy to play. It can easily come off as fake. Director Yuko hadn’t chosen one of those male actors who look at even a dog with soulful eyes, because what she wanted was a feeling of “near obsession.”
“It looks like it’s going smoothly,” Director Yuko thought with satisfaction.
How could it not be smooth? Ohara Ryusei had forgotten the script and fallen into the pool in front of everyone.
“Alright, today we’re filming the scene where the male lead invites the female lead to dinner for the first time,” Director Yuko said, clapping her hands and signaling for the entire crew to get ready.
The female lead, who came from an ordinary family, was not used to the complex etiquette of a high-end restaurant. It was a situation where she should have been easily intimidated, but she was completely unconcerned.
The ambiguous lighting illuminated the wood grain of the dining table. This was the best seat in the restaurant. The man in front of her had booked the entire place. There were no other guests to disturb them. A romantic serenade flowed through the air, exuding romance and luxury.
The girl’s fair fingers held a silver fork, dangling it listlessly over the plate. The sharp tines slid across the juicy steak, revealing the pink flesh inside.
“Is it not to your liking?” the young master asked cautiously.
“No,” the dark-haired girl said, but she showed no intention of tasting the food.
Her lazy disinterest made the young master, who was used to being the center of attention, feel uneasy.
His first meeting with his beloved had been far from perfect. He had fallen into the pool in a pathetic mess, swallowing a bellyful of water, while she was as beautiful as a water sprite, her bright eyes staring at his empty-headed self.
I have to do something to please her… The young master acted on instinct.
He began to explain the exquisite dishes on the table one by one, as if showing off his knowledge. In his overeagerness to display himself, he had instead been reduced from a high-and-mighty guest to a waiter giving an introduction.
“I really like their steak,” he said, cutting a piece and spearing it with his fork. He leaned forward and held it to the girl’s lips.
From the camera’s angle, the male lead’s posture was a little comical. His stomach was pressed against the edge of the table, his body arched like a shrimp.
If the female lead had been a considerate girl, she would have leaned forward slightly, so that the male lead wouldn’t have to stretch his arm so far.
The girl, her back resting leisurely against the chair, was unmoved. She glanced at the man, slowly opened her lips, and bit the juicy piece of meat.
The meat was slowly pulled from the fork. Her crimson lips opened and closed, her snow-white teeth and tender red tongue captured by the camera, until the piece of meat was chewed and swallowed.
The short clip was immediately marked as a slow-motion highlight. The camera was focused solely on her, not moving to the male lead’s face for even a second.
Was the male lead not present? No, every viewer who saw this knew—he was the piece of meat in the female lead’s mouth.
Offering himself to her, to be chewed and crushed.
“CUT!”
Director Yuko’s voice brought Ohara Ryusei back to his senses. He reflexively flashed his usual sunny smile. “One take! We worked really well together!”
As he said these words of praise, Ohara Ryusei’s eyes were glued to the girl’s red-and-white lips, unable to look away.
An’an had no time to respond to his pleasantries. She looked around for water. “Ew, the steak is so salty!”
It looked so juicy and tempting, but it didn’t taste good at all. A scam!
The assistant sister quickly gave her her own sister’s water. Director Yuko was repeatedly rewatching the footage and didn’t notice her sister’s act of betrayal.
“Have you ever considered starting a mukbang channel?” Director Yuko couldn’t help but ask. “I’ll definitely get you to the top of the charts.”
A mukbang channel? An’an, who was chugging water, thought for a moment. “I do it often.”
A private channel, with an audience of only one.
Unfortunately, the sole viewer hadn’t been online for half a month. The mukbang channel was on the verge of collapse.
She pouted and, during a break, took out her phone to type.
[The steak Tōru-kun makes is so much better than the crew’s! So despairing, it’s so salty my tongue hurts. Can I claim a workplace injury?]
Amuro Tooru, who had been busy for a long time and had finally finished his work, was at the supermarket picking out ingredients. He felt his phone vibrate and immediately opened the message.
Seeing the girl’s complaint, Amuro smiled.
[Then let me treat An’an today.]
“He replied so fast. Is he not busy anymore?”
The boyfriend she had been keeping in touch with via text message during his absence had clearly given the signal that they could meet today. The screen reflected the dark-haired girl’s curved eyes.
An’an happily put her phone away. “Director Yuko, I need to go back a little earlier today. Let’s shoot the next scene quickly.”
The filming location wasn’t far from Beika Town. An’an wasn’t staying at the hotel arranged by the crew and was going home as usual.
Her filming efficiency was very high, and Ohara Ryusei’s condition was also surprisingly good. Director Yuko calculated the progress and readily let her go.
Ohara Ryusei turned his head to say a few words to his agent. When he turned back, the girl had vanished without a trace.
“She left so fast?” he was stunned.
An’an: Not being enthusiastic about getting off work is a sign of a problematic mindset.
…
“I’m back!”
The dark-haired girl, who had quickly returned home, changed into her loungewear, quickly went next door, and quickly burst into the sacred ground of the kitchen, cheered happily.
Amuro Tooru picked up a freshly washed, plump cherry tomato and fed her one. “Welcome back.”
A cherry tomato couldn’t possibly heal An’an’s heart, which had been salted by the filming props. She clung to the blond young man’s arm, her eyes fixed with longing on the sizzling frying pan.
Amuro couldn’t refuse her. He could only flip the steak under the difficult circumstances of being hindered, his expression helpless, but a smile always on his lips.
A home-cooked steak is not like a restaurant’s, which takes half a day to plate. The hot, juicy piece of meat was mouth-watering just sitting on the plate.
Amuro: “It’s too hot. Let it cool for a while before you eat.”
“It won’t be as good when it’s cold,” An’an said, thinking of the crew’s steak. She had a million complaints to make. “Don’t be fooled by how delicious it looks on camera. It was actually salty and cold, worse than leftovers.”
And she had to pretend to be enjoying it. How pitiful.
“I’m not the rookie actress I used to be. My acting has improved a lot,” An’an said solemnly. “To think I even perfectly performed such a scene against my conscience. How dedicated.”
Listening to industry professionals complain about the goings-on on set was quite interesting. Amuro listened attentively while cutting the steak into bite-sized pieces.
Without him having to say anything, the girl leaned over and bit the piece on the fork.
An’an: Sobbing, this is what human beings eat.
She was very serious when it came to food. She chewed slowly, her tongue licking the juice from the corners of her lips.
After finishing one piece of meat, she was fed another. An’an continued to chew.
“Director Yuko suggested I start a mukbang channel. She said she would get me to the top of the charts.”
The girl nudged her boyfriend’s waist with her elbow. “The current number one on the charts, what do you think?”
“I’m very honored,” Amuro replied. “To be able to retain the number one spot in An’an’s heart even when I’ve been so busy with work lately, I’m extremely grateful.”
“That’s right,” An’an said in agreement. “The effect of neighbors having a long-distance relationship is really amazing.”
Amuro: I think I’m being passive-aggressively called out by my girlfriend.
I’m sorry. He didn’t want to either. It was all Gin’s fault, and the fault of the mysterious person who had framed Gin.
The blond young man’s face showed a look of apology, like a rain-soaked puppy looking pleadingly at a human.
An’an was helpless against such a look. It was a foul. She couldn’t get angry at all.
“I wasn’t angry in the first place,” the girl mumbled. “I just missed you a little.”
She had known her boyfriend was a “Working Emperor” before they started dating. She was mentally prepared. After all, An’an’s work was also the type where she would disappear for ten days or half a month when she was busy.
But lovers, isn’t that a relationship where you have the right to be unscrupulously clingy?
“Comfort me,” An’an said with righteous conviction. “Say you missed me too.”
She looked up at Amuro, her ink-black eyes clean and bright.
Amuro let out a soft breath.
Another direct hit. He had discovered it. His lover was very skilled at hitting people with direct hits until they were completely defeated.
It had been like this when she had asked if they wanted to date. It was like this again when they met after half a month. She straightforwardly and honestly expressed her feelings and demanded his answer.
A verbal response alone was not enough to express his feelings.
Amuro raised his hand and, cherishingly, caressed the girl’s soft cheek, tucking a few unruly strands of hair behind her ear.
“I missed you so much,” he murmured, his lips gently brushing against An’an’s cheek.
“I missed you like this.”