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392 Your Only Mistake Was Becoming My Enemy
🕑 Added 2025-07-20 15:00:19 +0000 UTC“Huh?”
Even under the stares of everyone in the room, Katou Megumi maintained her calm and composed expression.
Though she let out a soft sound of confusion, the serene tone of her voice had an unexpected effect—it made everyone start questioning if the problem really lay with her… or with themselves.
With Kyousuke’s mother, younger sister, and even the fluffy little dog all staring at her, a hint of nervousness did flicker through the girl's heart.
Her slender fingers gently stroked the sailor cap resting on the table, eyes subtly sweeping across her remarkable circle of friends.
Only after that did she finally speak, as calm and unhurried as ever:
“But didn’t Hojou just say on stage yesterday, right in front of the cameras and reporters, that he doesn’t have a girlfriend? So I figured… there’s no need for me to cast a vote.”
The moment Megumi spoke those words, the cheerful and heartwarming atmosphere—one that had felt like a nostalgic fourth-grade spring field trip—was instantly shattered.
Okudera Miki turned her head back around, resuming her scolding of Hiratsuka Shizuka.
Yukari bowed her head and began pouring tea.
Naoka shifted her focus to discussing with Hojou Mikiko whether they should have Kyousuke wear a kimono at the next awards ceremony.
“Megumi, you…” Yamauchi Sakura raised an eyebrow, completely unprepared for such a ruthless counterattack.
“I’ve been meaning to say this for a while,” Miyamizu Mitsuha added with a chuckle, “That invisibility skill of yours? It’s perfect for an assassin.
Quiet like the wind, totally unnoticed… and then, when everyone else is exhausted from fighting, you strike. You’re a dangerous one.”
She smiled as she thanked Yukino, then gracefully lifted a delicate rose tea to her lips.
A beautiful girl paired with such refined elegance—if Eriri were here, she’d be sketching her on the spot.
In contrast, the expression of the girl sitting across from them remained perfectly neutral.
Her words, too, were so flat and measured that they almost seemed harmless.
If it weren’t for the keen eyes of Sakura and Mitsuha, it would be easy to think Megumi was merely making a logical observation based on Kyousuke’s statement…
And not subtly throwing shade at everyone present for not being acknowledged as his girlfriend… or perhaps even declaring war.
“Is something wrong?” Megumi asked with an innocent smile.
‘Click!’
What answered her wasn’t a voice—but the crisp sound of a camera shutter.
“Huh? Sakura? Why are you taking pictures of me?”
Most people would panic at the thought of being caught in an unflattering shot.
But Megumi? She simply asked the question as if it were nothing more than mild curiosity.
“What do you mean, ‘why’? Megumi, the smugness and cunning on your face are practically leaking out!” Sakura turned her phone toward her.
“That’s impossible…” Megumi’s voice trailed off.
Her hand, which had been absentmindedly stroking her sailor cap, suddenly froze.
The screen of Sakura’s phone showed a photo—Megumi, face glowing with mischief and quiet triumph, her smile radiant and full of sly confidence.
‘That’s… me?’
She couldn't help but ask herself.
Had she really made such an uncharacteristically expressive face without even noticing?
“Your character's getting more vivid, Megumi. If Eriri saw this, she’d scream that you're straying off model,” Sakura teased.
“That kind of talk about ‘character settings’ is just an otaku thing, I wouldn’t really understand~~” Megumi murmured softly.
Then she turned her head slightly to glance at Kasuko, who was lying on the floor in the exact same pose as Momotarou.
Mitsuha looked away with a small smile and lowered her gaze.
Isn’t this natural? Humans are born with two faces.
Like how her father looked before and after leaving home to become the town mayor…
Like how she herself looked as the shrine maiden of the Miyamizu family in Itomori, versus how she looked beside Hojou Kyousuke in Tokyo…
Like how Sakura looked when she faced Hojou, and how she looked when she turned away…
No girl wants to be invisible in front of someone she truly cares about.
No one alive wishes to leave no trace in the heart of the person they love.
With a porcelain teacup in one hand and a rose-printed saucer in the other, the priestess who could see into people’s hearts turned to admire Megumi’s spring-themed outfit, the very image of elegance.
“You say only otaku care about character settings,” Mitsuha remarked with a smile, “But knowing what that means just shows you understand otaku culture very well, Megumi.”
Sakura put away her phone and propped her chin on both hands, giving up on teasing her any further.
“Well, Hojou, Eriri, Shouko—you all talk about that stuff all the time. As your friend, of course I’d want to have more shared topics and understand the things you're passionate about better. That’s only natural.” Megumi said serenely.
“Just like that book you lent me, Sakura. The right way to respond to a friend’s feelings… is to actually read it.”
“Ugh, Megumi! That level of empathy… you're literally world-class!” Sakura whimpered dramatically, leaning forward to hug her.
“That means… you watched the movie I recommended, too?”
“Mhm~~ There were so many, I only just finished all of them last night.”
“All of them!?”
“Yup. That’s why I was so sleepy this morning.” Megumi smiled serenely—though she’d actually watched The Devotion of Suspect X twice.
“I’m touched! I officially declare you Best Friend of the Year!”
“It’s nothing. The movies were interesting. Bouquet for a Summer Day was so good, I couldn’t help watching it twice. I should be thanking you.”
“Then… you wouldn’t be bored watching Kyousuke’s kendo practice, right?”
“Why would that be boring?”
“What about watching him draw?”
“Watching blank paper turn into living characters—that’s fascinating, isn’t it?”
“And writing? When he’s just silently typing away at his keyboard?”
“Getting to witness the creation of a great work—that’s an honor.”
“What about just sitting in silence together, doing absolutely nothing?”
“Isn’t having time to do that kind of thing… already a form of happiness?”
Almost as if she wanted to put an end to this seemingly endless round of questions, Megumi calmly summed it up:
“In the end… I can always find something to enjoy.”
Yamauchi Sakura, along with Miyamizu Mitsuha and Nishimiya Shouko who had been listening quietly nearby, all looked visibly impressed.
“Your capacity for acceptance is… astonishing,” Sakura murmured.
For her, the only reason she’d push herself to do all those things was one—because the person doing them was Hojou.
Sakura couldn’t find joy in things she wasn’t interested in—but as long as she was with Kyousuke, anything could become fun.
Just like how she hated reading so much she’d get distracted after two lines, and yet she’d grit her teeth and read through everything he liked.
Word by word. Annotating the pages. Folding the corners.
Desperately trying to understand the emotions in his work.
Just like how she could never understand the shouting and sword-waving of kendo—except for the part where Kyousuke ruthlessly crushed his opponents.
That part made her laugh out loud.
There were countless other things too, but one truth remained: her time was limited, and she wanted to fill it with joy.
Wasting it on things that didn’t interest her?
Not an option.
Kyousuke was well aware of this.
So, whenever he had plans to meet someone—especially a date—he wouldn’t let them wait at the kendo club.
Instead, he’d end practice early and tell anyone who wanted extra training to stay behind on their own.
As for things like drawing manga or writing, he would never do those while spending time alone with her.
Yamauchi Sakura knew all of this.
And it wasn’t just her.
Even someone like Shouko—who’d be happy just sitting there staring at Kyousuke like a complete airhead.
Kyousuke would still be considerate of her feelings and tailor their dates to things Shouko enjoyed more.
But Katou Megumi...
Whoa~~
Even a childhood friend with unbeatable seniority couldn’t help but let out a genuine exclamation.
Her level of emotional generosity was simply off the charts.
With someone like her, Kyousuke wouldn’t have to worry at all about whether she’d get bored, or feel guilty for making her adapt to his pace.
In fact, she might even share common interests with him.
She was... flawless.
You could call her too agreeable, but the strange thing was—it didn’t feel like a bad thing.
There was no guilt involved, because behind that calm, gentle smile, Katou Megumi was just naturally that easygoing.
“That’s amazing!~~”
Nishimiya Shouko couldn't help but exclaim in admiration.
During her voice acting lessons, the teacher often had them practice with lines from all kinds of characters, including works she had zero interest in.
Even someone as patient as Shouko found it painful.
But she had a feeling that Katou Megumi could probably accept it all without the slightest complaint.
“Huh? Is this really something to be impressed about?” Megumi blinked in surprise, not quite understanding why everyone was reacting so strongly.
“Then would you come help me bottle-feed a baby calf?” asked little Kasuko as she stood up, letting her mom brush bits of grass off her clothes.
“Bottle-feeding a calf? That’s more amazing! I thought the cow moms were the ones who took care of their babies!” Megumi said, genuinely surprised.
“Nope! When the calf is just born, Kasuko takes care of it. Later on, we use this super tall machine—then, whoosh, the milk powder pours in, the water flows through the pipe, and the calves go bru-bru-bru running over…”
Wearing denim overalls, Kasuko spread her arms wide to demonstrate how big the milk-feeding machine was, her head bobbing as she imitated the calves running.
Her wide black eyes sparkled with absolute seriousness.
“It’s that so. So then… you drank the mama cow’s milk instead?” Megumi asked just as seriously.
“Megumi, you dummy! The calves are raised to be eaten! Their moms too! The ones that give milk are dairy cows,” Kasuko huffed proudly.
“I… I see...”
…
The conversation between the tall girl and the small one went on, and just like she said, Megumi truly could find joy in anything.
Her capacity for acceptance really was amazing.
Miyamizu Mitsuha averted her eyes nonchalantly, trying to dodge her sister’s silent stare.
‘Seriously, still holding grudges at your age?’
‘Not cute at all! If you were as adorable as Kasuko, I wouldn’t have made Sayaka deal with you on my behalf!’
The priestess couldn't help but miss her foolish friend Sayaka a little.
If Sayaka and Yotsuba could get along, Kasuko would probably love her too.
Hojou Mikiko looked at the circle of girls with nothing but warmth and pride glowing on her face.
———————————————————————
On Shin-Mejiro Avenue, a polished black Toyota sedan glided smoothly down the road.
“I can’t believe you actually had the guts to come along, Eriri. That’s Kosaka Akane we’re talking about here. Just promise me you won’t go charging up for an autograph when you see her in person.
Honestly, I suggest you get out while you still can—go back to Aunt Mikiko and talk about the latest quirky English news you read in a magazine. Sounds like a better time to me.”
Kasumigaoka Utaha sat in the left rear seat, her red knit top cinched tight under the seatbelt, her lower half wrapped in a fitted black pencil skirt.
Her face didn’t exactly scream confidence as she spoke.
She knew exactly what kind of fool Eriri could be—not that she thought Eriri would screw things up, and not because she actually cared whether Eriri embarrassed Kyousuke.
The real issue was this: Kosaka Akane was simply out of Eriri’s league.
Kasumigaoka had done her homework.
She knew exactly how ruthless Akane could be.
Among the three of them, Eriri was the easiest target—the most vulnerable point. And once things started, Akane would strike her the hardest.
‘This idiot’s going to cry,’ Kasumigaoka thought with a sigh.
‘Maybe I should make her cry now and get it over with—it might make things easier on both me and Kyousuke later.’
“Hah? I should be the one saying that to you! You’ve been going on and on about how scary Kosaka Akane is—like,
Watch out or she’ll spike your drink the moment you go to the bathroom, and next thing you know, you’re in a hotel room going, ‘Eh? Wait a sec, at least wear protection!’”
Eriri, seated on the right side of the backseat, was clearly fired up and ready for war.
She hadn't gone for a formal outfit either—instead, she wore her go-to combination that showed off her noble, princess-like flair:
A pink off-shoulder top and a pale green mini skirt.
It was a strategic choice, one she’d planned ever since her mother helped her pick out outfits yesterday.
After all, Kosaka Akane was just some old woman.
If things didn’t go her way in the conversation, she had a nuclear option lined up:
“Aren’t you a little too old to be chasing after someone like Kyousuke? Have you no shame?”
The perfect finisher.
Sure, maybe planning a surrender strategy before the battle even started wasn’t a great omen—but Eriri considered it her “Final Explosive Tactic.”
Even if she couldn’t win, she was going to drag that woman down with her.
“Why did this conversation suddenly become an R18 doujin plotline?” Kyousuke asked wearily.
“Whatever~ More importantly, Kyousuke, have you thought about how you’re going to deal with her later? Want me to have Dad go over to the company now? If Kosaka Akane goes nuts, he can just lie on the floor and pretend she assaulted him.”
Eriri sounded way too excited.
In the front seat, Kisaki Tetta instinctively tried to glance back and check his big brother’s expression, but when he looked up, he was met not with a rearview mirror—but with a screen showing the car’s external camera feed.
‘Oh, right. I had that customized.’
‘Why do I even have ears? In situations like this, being deaf would be a blessing...’
The two girls in the back were clearly psyching themselves up, treating this verbal sparring like a warm-up before a match.
Kyousuke, sitting silently between them, had been quietly writing on his tablet with a stylus.
But now, at their words, he finally looked up.
He mentally apologized to Mr. Spencer, then was just about to politely decline their... "support," when Kasumigaoka spoke again:
“By the way, Kyousuke, how did you convince those employees who had quit the interview process to come back?”
“I didn’t convince them.”
He put down his pen.
The car wasn't exactly cramped, but three people in the back made it a little tight.
If Kyousuke wanted to draw comfortably, he had to stretch his arms forward, practically into the girls’ laps.
Any bigger movement, and he’d end up bumping into some rather... soft areas.
“You didn’t? But didn’t you say the issue was already resolved?” Eriri asked, puzzled.
“Ahem. Please pardon my interruption,” Kisaki Tetta cut in, “I was with boss this morning when he called Kazama Riki and the others. If I may, I can explain the situation to you both—”
As soon as Kisaki heard the prompt, his eyes lit up.
After all, as a proper subordinate, it was his duty to loudly proclaim his boss’s greatness the moment Kyousuke started being humble.
Kyousuke just smiled quietly, picked up his pen again, and lowered his head back to the tablet.
The ride from home to the company would take about an hour, and he wanted to finish his sketch before they arrived.
And so, as Kisaki Tetta spoke, Hojou Kyousuke transformed into an awe-inspiring figure in his narration
—A lone mafia boss seated in a wide leather chair, his face half-shrouded in shadow, a sleepy lion-like cat sprawled across his lap, gently spinning a jade ring on his pinky finger while exuding an air of effortless authority.
Charismatic and composed, he bent the hearts of men to his will with little more than a whisper.
Those cowardly interviewees who’d backed down under Kosaka Akane’s tricks?
According to Kisaki, they’d returned, tears streaming down their faces as they knelt to kiss Kyousuke’s shoes, begging forgiveness, swearing loyalty with their very lives, vowing to help build his kingdom of ambition.
“Whoa, I can totally see it!” Eriri exclaimed with bright eyes.
This kind of legendary, dramatic storytelling was right up her alley.
“Honestly, I thought you’d send in a covert ops team, hold a knife to their throats, and force them back to the interview room!”
“What kind of company do you think we’re running here?” Kyousuke gave her a helpless smile.
“Heh, so that’s the truth then…” Utaha murmured, her deep red eyes sparkling as she glanced sideways at the man beside her.
No matter how long she spent with him, he always managed to surprise her.
That poise, that cunning, that iron will—yes, this was exactly why she liked him.
“But still,” she mused, “Kyousuke should be the kind of guy who stands in a silver suit by the massive windows of a skyscraper, smiling down at the ant-like people below.”
“Right? That’s what was missing from Kisaki’s version!” Eriri nodded quickly, then turned her blushing face toward the window, trying to hide her racing heartbeat from the boy beside her.
Yes. That’s him.
That calm, thrilling sense of security—like a shot of cola, exhilarating and addictive.
No need for tricks, no cause for worry.
Kyousuke turned setbacks into victories with nothing but sheer strength and ability.
He’d already slapped Kosaka Akane in the face without even meeting her.
Perfect. He’s the reason I fell for him at first sight.
Eriri couldn’t help remembering the first time they played a game together:
Kyousuke had stripped Knight Male Lead #1 of his title for insubordination, exiled Bard Male Lead #2 for ruining the city’s aesthetics.
Imprisoned the king’s illegitimate son in a political coup, and crushed a neighboring kingdom under the iron cavalry of a princess—who then rose to power as the Empress of Crimson Solitude.
Just like then, no rules could bind him.
His only goal was guiding the princess to her best ending—crushing anything in his way.
“So,” Utaha said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “What’s the plan, Kyousuke? Got something we can help with?”
Kyousuke glanced between the giddy blonde on his left and the sharp-eyed novelist on his right.
A strange feeling stirred within him.
If this were a boss battle, he’d be the main damage dealer, Utaha the strategist or healer… and Eriri? She was basically the team mascot.
“What? You haven’t thought of one yet?” Utaha asked.
“Of course I have. Every person has flaws. And if they have flaws, we can exploit them. Kosaka Akane is no different,” Kyousuke replied.
“A flaw? Did you find a major bug in Marz Corporation’s upcoming release? Or maybe that new book by their star author Green Skirt is plagiarized?” Utaha asked eagerly.
She had been gathering intel through her own sources as well.
“Wrong!” Eriri spun around, puffing up angrily. “The biggest mistake Kosaka Akane made… was daring to mess with us!”
“You’re the one messing things up,” Utaha retorted, rolling her eyes.
Kyousuke laughed. “Eriri’s not wrong. Trying to stir up trouble for me is, in itself, Akane’s biggest problem. If she’d stayed in Osaka quietly, we never would’ve crossed paths.”
Utaha frowned slightly.
She trusted him implicitly—was even attracted to his confidence, the kind born of strength. But still…
“So what’s the actual plan?”
Kyousuke lowered his head with a smirk. “I just want her to feel overwhelming shame. And pain.”
“Exactly! Who told her to show up and ruin our day?” Eriri chimed in.
From the front seat, Kisaki nodded in agreement.
That was right.
If Kosaka Akane had stayed in her little bubble, even as the so-called queen of the industry, Kyousuke wouldn’t have given her a second glance.
But now that she’d entered his orbit, her fate was sealed—incineration by the sun.
The car came to a smooth stop in front of a modest grey three-story building.
Kisaki stepped out, but didn’t rush to open the back door as he usually did.
He had two sets of protocols—one for when it was just Kyousuke, and one for when the “first ladies” were present.
This time, he simply walked over to the front entrance and took his place at the head of the two neat lines of men in black suits waiting to welcome them.
“Whoa, Kyousuke, I knew it—our company is totally a yakuza front!” Eriri squealed with delight.
Her debut manga had been a forbidden love story between a mob prince and a doujinshi artist, so this was basically a dream come true.
Outside the car, a wall of imposing men stood motionless in black suits, forming two symmetrical lines from the front door all the way to the car.
The atmosphere radiated pressure.
Utaha had no doubt: if Kosaka Akane showed up right now, regardless of her family background or fame in the industry, she’d be stuffed into a concrete barrel and dumped in Tokyo Bay before she could utter a word.
“Come on,” Kyousuke said with a smile. “Let’s check out the company.”
He didn’t bother correcting Eriri’s wild assumptions.
He didn’t like flashy displays like this—but he’d made an exception this time, thinking of a certain silly girl.
Now, seeing Eriri’s face light up with delight, he decided that going door-to-door with gifts afterward to assure the neighbors they weren’t actually criminals… wouldn’t be so bad.
Totally worth it.
It’s all part of building partnerships, after all.
Leaning forward, he unbuckled Eriri’s seatbelt, then did the same for Utaha, before opening the door for them.
Eriri took a deep breath, her heart pounding wildly.
This is our company.
These are our people.
This is where our story will be born.
This… is our company.
As the girl’s polished shoes hit the ground and she stepped forward, Kyousuke followed behind her, his tall figure cutting a striking silhouette in the sunlight.
Utaha trailed him, wearing her usual gentle smile.
Kisaki Tetta inhaled deeply, then bowed low and shouted:
“Good morning, President!”
