Cameras and the Public’s Fascination

Kotone’s mother, having lost everything, could weaponize my relationship with her daughter. We changed her business empire, but not her disposition.

She was going to jail for about five years to a decade, NDAs broken or not. The money, essentially Kotone’s, had yet to be seized and was still in her accounts. Why not redirect more away from Kotone without adding jail time?

She had to decide which strategy brought greater pain to others, which kept destroying her own daughter, and screamed ugly wrath.

I moved past the flashing cameras at Kotone’s new high-rise apartment. They could stare all they wanted, but I was the only one going up to claim the prize.

“You! Kotone’s classmate! Shinohara Rintarō from Shinohara Chocolat, right?!”

“What’s your relationship?!”

“You’re Kotone’s cook?!”

“Cook? This is my school bag. Me? Ah, I asked Kotone to tutor me. She’s making a new agency, and I’ve been marked, you see. She was worried about bringing me up publicly, but as the lower rankings, I have nothing but respect for her.”

“Boyfriend?!”

“She hasn’t said anything about that, has she? I may do modeling for her agency in the future, so you may see me around. Please continue to support her.”

Donations kept pouring into her courthouse and singing tour livestreams. There were many things people wanted to say to each other, but couldn’t. They moved through life seeking the day someone would say it for them, their real feelings. Kotone flared in her approach to this, for her gushing fans, for everyone. In time, they would realize the doubts they had in their hearts were insignificant.

The NDA about my life as a private chef was broken.

Forecasting move for move, the court snapped to release an injunction, essentially an order of “quiet or more years in jail for you.” Kotone’s mother’s professional reputation was severely marred, making it difficult for her to find future employment, especially in the private and entertainment industries where discretion was essential. Even still, she had enough assets to live comfortably after incarceration. Such was the life of the untouchable elite.

The courts were already expecting me to file for a civil lawsuit.

If Kotone saw no problem with it, I would return a portion of her mother’s assets from the lawsuit. Additionally, Wakami would receive her portion as well, to begin repaying her assistance in this matter.

The door had barely clicked shut behind me when I heard the frantic, rhythmic slap of bare feet on hardwood.

“Rintarō!”

She launched. I barely had time to brace myself before a blur of gold and white collided with my chest. Kotone hit me at full speed, her legs hooking around my waist and her arms locking behind my neck. I stumbled back a half-step, my hands catching the underside of her thighs to keep us both upright as the sheer momentum of her joy nearly sent us back into the hallway.

She smelled like sunshine and expensive hairspray, her heart hammering a frantic, victory-lap rhythm against my ribs.

“How are you, Kotone?” I didn't set her down. I kept her pinned against me, my voice dropping into that low, possessive rumble she’d earned.

“Make yourself at home. Or better, come over more often,” Kotone smiled. “Like, a lot more often.”

I adjusted my grip, holding her weight with an effortless, one-armed strength as I kicked the door shut. “I’ve considered it.” I finally let her slide down my body, but I didn't step back. I stood in her space, watching her with a smoldering intensity.

“Ew! There’s that tone again. So stiff and polite!” She strode past me toward the kitchen on purpose. “You sound like you’re signing paperwork when you’re actually doing the opposite. Or maybe all that legal stuff has you totally wound up? Feeling lucky yet?” she added, spinning back around. “What about repaying Yui-chii?”

“I thought I’d repay her my own way.”

“So bold. Okay, fine. Then obviously come over more. But careful, if people keep seeing you here, they’ll start writing stories again.”

“Let them,” I declared, catching her before she could drift again. “Perfection doesn’t need to hide. Neither do I. I don’t pretend when I want something.”

“Ohhh? Finally losing that boring, uptight composure?”

“I saw you on the news,” I celebrated, my tenor lower, drier than usual. “That was wild.”

The triumph was simmering behind her eyes, incandescent. She unpinned her hair. The pencil fell out with a flick. “Wild? It’s been years coming.”

“I watched the tour. You were dangerous on that stage, shining the way you were.”

“You think I was gonna flinch in front of her?” Kotone flipped her hair with a scoff, catching the light. “Please. I’ve been imagining that moment since forever. What I’d wear, how I’d smile, ugh, the entrance I’d make onstage like I owned it? All of that? Was just buildup, Rintarō. I did it so I could come here. To you. To have you complementing me exactly like this.”

“Manners,” I stepped into her space, guiding her with a hand at the small of her back. “You didn’t do it for me. You did it for yourself. Because you want this.”

“That so?” Her eyes glittered. “So we’re gonna pretend I’m the selfish one? Mean!” She laughed, backing onto the counter and kicking her legs slightly. “You missed me so bad it’s dripping off your tongue. Don’t even try to act like you weren’t thinking about me in nothing but lace and lip gloss."

“I was working,” I said, stepping between her knees.

“Mmmhm, and totally focused, I bet. You know what happens next, right? Be smart, Senpai. Acknowledge what’s best for you.” Her fingers tugged lightly on the knot of my tie. “Or I’ll make you realize it the long way.”

I brought my mouth near her ear without granting her the relief of a kiss. “Don’t lecture me on restraint when you’re testing the seam of it. It clashes with your usual glamour,” I added, quieter now. “And makes me want to lose my breath in you.”

“Hh–” She made a tiny sound and looked away, flustered. “Why is it so hot when you talk like that?!” She slapped my chest with both hands, mock-annoyed, but her cheeks were clearly red.

“I want you for me alone.”

“Ugh, you’re annoying, keep talking like that and I’m gonna–” She caught herself and recovered instantly. “Whatever. Keep up, handsome. You think you can hold that smooth-butler act for longer than ten seconds? I already texted the signal. So I don’t need to say it, do I? You knowww.”

My hands settled at her waist, steadying her as I pulled her closer. She met me like she’d been holding it since the stage, loving the sheer, overpowered chaos of the position. We kissed, and the ‘Taciturn Chef’ and ‘Feeble Idol’ ignited, giving way to the real us. There was no polite paperwork left between us, only the raw, unscripted truth of who we were.

Enthused like we’d planned for this, but not for it to feel this real. Like we finally found our home.

As it turned out, the fire reached the Academy before it could consume us. Kotone was able to remain at the Academy, returning after her two-week dismissal. Between our efforts and the pressure from the internet, even the Upper Echelon had to fold. They permitted her to change the very nature of her representative business.

They would obviously later find methods of equaling the field to remind us, their students, who was boss.

As for me, I was transferred for falling short of the revenue requirement on time. The money books before Golden Week were weak, and the profits after it looked like we had played illegal cards. It was heinously stupendous.

Seventeen days into my third year of high school, my time as the modest Shinohara Rintarō at the extremely competitive Academy was over.

I felt abandoned by salvation… but this remained far away from the truth.

I would return for my second trimester with audacity. High school graduation, then all of college occupied our gazes. My time at the Academy as the unstoppable Shinohara Rintarō, savior of the family restaurant, maddeningly handsome MidnightChef, student of the elite, was simply a dinner course away.

I didn’t look back at the gates. I didn’t need to. I adjusted my tie, the one Kotone clearly unknotted, and smiled. The Academy thought they were getting rid of a failure. They were actually granting me time to perfect the main course.