The Girlfriend Contract

Akari still sat rigid in the same chair, but the room felt entirely different now.

It was the sunlight streaming in through the tall window, but the faint scent of cologne that now lingered in the space. A scent that was probably too expensive to be in a store anywhere.

No, it was simply because he was there.

She tried to focus on the table in front of her. She really did. But her eyes kept drifting up on their own, no matter how many times she told herself to stop.

Takumi Hayase.

Not the version on screens or billboards. Not the smiling image frozen in glossy magazines.

The real one. Sitting right across from her.

Even sitting across the table, he radiated that same impossible glow. The kind that made you wonder if someone had adjusted the lighting just for him. His dark brown hair had that perfectly effortless wave, his white shirt somehow crisp yet casual. And when he smiled, it was with the quiet confidence of someone who knew the cameras loved him.

No, not just the cameras. Everyone.

Akari held the hem of her skirt in both hands, squeezing until her knuckles had gone white. Every time he moved, her attention darted back to him. The way he turned a page with a simple flick of his wrist. The faint cedar scent that drifted over whenever he shifted. The warm rumble of his voice when he greeted her.

Okay, deep breaths. It’s just Takumi Hayase. The Takumi Hayase. The one whose picture Yui keeps taped to the side of the espresso machine. A totally normal situation. And now, you’re his… pretend girlfriend?

Totally normal.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair with the ease of someone at ease in every situation, “you’re Miss Akari Ishikawa.”

His tone wasn’t smug. Just calm. Steady. As if he’d already read the script of her life and was checking whether she’d memorized her lines as well.

Akari’s palms were damp. “Y-yes. It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Hayase.”

“Please,” he said, his smile softening, “just Takumi is fine.”

She blinked. Just Takumi? That felt… illegal.

He chuckled, and somehow even that sounded cinematic. “Relax, Miss Ishikawa. I don’t bite.” He raised both hands in a reassuring gesture.

Heat rushed up Akari’s cheeks so quickly she had to look away. She opened her mouth to answer, but a quiet, curt cough cut the moment short.

Sitting beside Takumi was a woman in a tailored black blazer. Akari had noticed her earlier, but only in the way someone notices a storm cloud on the horizon. Up close, the effect was even stronger. Her hair was pinned back with exact symmetry, her glasses catching the overhead lights like the edge of a blade.

“Miss Ishikawa,” she said, voice as steady as polished steel, “I’m Rie Matsuda, Mr. Hayase’s manager. I’ll be handling the logistics of your arrangement. My priority is ensuring your partnership looks authentic to the public whilst staying professional behind the scenes. The goal is a convincing relationship. Do you understand?”

Akari nodded quickly. “Y-yes! Of course!”

“Good.” Matsuda offered her a folder without ceremony. “Inside you’ll find your media schedule, key talking points, and guidelines for handling reporters. You’ll attend at least one public event with Takumi every week. Coordinated outfits are recommended. You’ll maintain social media presence and appear in casual ‘spotted’ photos together weekly.”

“Casual… spotted photos?” Akari echoed faintly.

“Staged candid shots,” Matsuda clarified, unfazed. “The illusion of spontaneity. No photographers will be informed directly, but word tends to spread fast.”

“Ah. Of course.”

The illusion of spontaneity, Akari thought weakly, How poetic.

“Additionally,” Matsuda went on, “you must not reveal the nature of this agreement to anyone. You’re to behave as though the relationship is real at all times. Any inconsistency, public or private, can and will be noticed.”

“Understood,” Akari said, nodding so fast she looked like a malfunctioning bobble head.

From beside her, she felt eyes on her.

Takumi had glanced her way, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You look like you’re about to salute.”

Her face flared again. Reverting her gaze to her knees again, she mumbled softly, “I-I am just trying to be professional…”

She desperately wished she could slide under the table and disappear forever.

While Matsuda continued outlining schedules and expectations, Akari tried to absorb the information, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the same phrase:

A convincing relationship.

It sounded like a line from one of those trashy romance dramas. Except this time she wasn’t just the viewer. She was the heroine. And the “hero” was sitting across from her, completely flawless in everything he did.

“I bet you’re wondering why you.”

Her head snapped up. “Eh?”

Takumi was watching her directly now, his gaze steady in a way that made it impossible to pretend she hadn’t been staring. She couldn’t tell if he was studying her, testing her, or simply curious.

And that uncertainty made her heart beat faster.

He smiled faintly, like he’d caught her mid-thought. “You keep sneaking glances at me like I’m a puzzle you’re trying to solve.”

“I-I wasn’t!” She lied. Badly.

That earned her a small laugh from him. One so smooth and practiced, yet warm enough to feel real. “You’re honest. I like that.”

Her brain stalled. “Huh?”

He nodded, resting his chin in one hand. “I’ve seen some of your work. That drama about the florist who could read people’s emotions? You played the best friend.”

Her composure scattered to the winds. “Y-you saw that? That was two years ago! I barely had twenty lines!”

“And you made them count.” His tone stayed gentle, but firm and certain. “And your scene in Tears of Spring? The one where you had to smile while holding back tears? That was good. Really good.”

She stared at him, mind completely blank. “You… actually watched that too?”

“I try to keep an eye out for fresh talent,” he answered, “You have a very honest presence. You don’t act to look good, you act to feel real. That’s rare. I like that.”

He ended with another picturesque smile.

Akari’s face burned. She wasn’t sure if she was being complimented, evaluated, or bewitched. “I-I don’t think I’m that special…”

Another pointed cough cut through the air. Matsuda.

“As you can see,” she said briskly, “Mr. Hayase values authenticity. We believe that quality will make this partnership believable.” She adjusted her glasses, “Now then… any questions?”

Akari looked between the two of them: the idol who seemed to glow without trying, and the manager whose presence could probably make a storm vanish in fear.

Questions? She had thousands. Why me? What exactly have I agreed to? And what happens if I panic and ruin everything on day one?

But she swallowed all of them and brought out her signature smile. “No, I think I understand.”

Takumi’s eyebrow lifted slightly, though his smile never shifted.

Kirishima, who had overseen the proceedings, rose from his seat, signaling the meeting’s end. “We’ll schedule your first public outing for next week. Miss Ishikawa, you’ll receive wardrobe and etiquette briefings tomorrow, along with one-on-one personal training. Please review your confidentiality clause in the meantime.”

Akari nodded automatically, clutching her folder like a life raft.

As they left the room, she felt it again. Takumi’s gaze lingering on her. There was something there. Was it warmth? Curiosity? Whatever it was, it tightened the knot in her stomach instead of loosening it.

He’s too perfect, she thought as the elevator doors slid shut, too polished, too graceful. Like someone who belongs to a world I can only ever watch from the outside.

She let out a small sigh.

And now I have to pretend I belong in it.