Photo Without Context

Today was another morning where my patience was being tried. Morning class wasn’t really my thing. Or like… at all.

Still there was something in the air today. Something profoundly different from other lazy mornings.

Maybe it was how mostly everyone was looking at me?

I walked through the campus gates half-asleep, headphones in, coffee in hand, trying to pretend I didn’t notice the sideways glances.

That lasted about ten seconds.

“…isn’t that him?”

“Tsukishiro Rin…?”

“No way, that’s gotta be edited.”

“Still, look at his face—same hair, same hoodie—”

I stopped mid-step.

Okay. Either I’d sleepwalked into a true crime documentary… or something very, very stupid had happened online.

Before I could even reach the building—

“TRAITOR!”

A war cry echoed across the quad.

I barely had time to register the blur of brown hoodie and caffeine before Ryo Saitou lunged at me, swinging his backpack like a medieval weapon.

“YOU—YOU—YOU LYING SON OF A—”

“WHAT—WHAT DID I DO?!”

“YOU WENT TO HER HOUSE!”

He swung again. I ducked. The coffee did not survive.

“What house?! Whose house?!” I yelped, dodging another swing.

“RIN-CHAN’S HOUSE, YOU FIEND!”

Students were staring. Some were recording. Great, now this was turning into Season 2.

Finally, salvation arrived in the form of Kanae, who grabbed Ryo by the collar mid-charge.

“Saitou Ryo,” she said flatly. “Put the backpack down before I weaponize it against you.”

“But—he—betrayed—mankind!” Ryo fought back against Kanae’s iron grip.

“I know he did. But let him explain himself.”

I stood there drenched in coffee and disbelief.

“Can someone please explain why I’m being tried for war crimes before 9 a.m.?”

Kanae sighed and handed me her phone.

On the screen: an entertainment news page.

Big headline. Even bigger disaster.

[BREAKING] Rising Idol Tsukishiro Rin’s “Secret Boyfriend”? Mystery Man Spotted Leaving Her Apartment Late at Night!

Photos attached: me. Hood up, walking out of her building, head down, raindrops falling dramatically around me like I just came out of a K-Drama.

And as if that weren’t bad enough, sources below added how I was seen dropped off at Rin’s apartment complex by her manager and was seen leaving ALONE later that day.

Yeah, I’m cooked.

“So?” Kanae arched a brow.

“Look, I know how this is gonna sound now but… I’m not just an intern there any more, apparently.”

“I knew it, you’re—“

Before Ryo could raise his weapon once more, Kanae grabbed ahold of it, still looking at me, deadpan.

“I kinda took a good picture of Tsukishiro Rin and I kinda became her personal photographer for her documentary so…”

Both of them froze upon my explanation, staring straight at me. Only the sound of crickets could be heard in the distance.

“Rin-chan’s?” Ryo echoed.

“Personal photographer?” Kanae did the same.

“THIS ISN’T A JOKE!” Ryo screamed. “You’re her guy?! You—! You absolute legend—and traitor—at the same time!”

“I’m neither!” I said, rubbing my temples. “It’s a misunderstanding! Saya-san drove me there for work!”

Kanae raised an eyebrow. “At night?”

“There was a storm! I fixed a camera setup!”

“And then stayed?”

“The trains stopped!”

Kanae gave me a very distrusting look.

“You do realize how this looks, right?”

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.

*Nakahara Saya*

Oh no.

I hesitated for exactly half a second before answering.

“…Hello?”

“Mikazuki.” Her voice was calm. Too calm. “You’ve seen the news, I assume.”

“I—uh—yes, ma’am.”

There wasn’t really much I could say was there?

“Good. Then you also know you’re trending on three platforms and half of Arclight’s PR staff hasn’t slept.”

“…that bad, huh.”

“Come to the studio after class. Don’t worry we can make the rumours disappear, it isn't as bad as it looks. Just don’t answer any questions.”

“Questions as in…?”

“Anything. You’ve got a big mouth on you.”

Click.

End of call.

I stared at my phone like it had just informed me of my own execution date.

Ryo leaned in, starry-eyed. “She said Rin-san, didn’t she?”

“Man snap out of it.”

“Do you realize how famous you are right now?”

“Yes. And it’s terrifying.”

Kanae pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re lucky this isn’t a scandal for her yet. Arclight will kill the story fast.”

“Yeah, let’s hope they don’t kill me first.”

I slumped into my chair as class started, pretending to take notes while my brain replayed last night’s events on loop.

Somehow, in the span of twelve hours, I’d gone from cooking eggs to becoming Japan’s most hated man online.

And judging by the look on my professor’s face when she passed by, I was 90% sure even she had seen the article.

📸

The ride to Arclight felt like walking towards my own execution.

Tokyo blurred by outside the window — rain streaking against glass, neon reflected in puddles — and somehow it all looked like the opening credits of a crime drama I didn’t sign up for.

When I arrived, the receptionist smiled that polite, PR-trained smile that screamed “I’ve already seen your scandal.”

Fantastic.

I took the elevator up, every floor ding sounding like another step toward unemployment.

When the doors slid open, Nakahara Saya was already waiting in the hallway — sharp suit, tablet in hand, coffee in the other. The look she gave me could’ve sliced glass.

“Mikazuki.”

That was all. Just my name. And somehow, it carried the weight of a full interrogation.

She led me into a small conference room. A few folders were neatly stacked on the table. Beside her sat a woman whose lipstick had left a stain on her coffee cup — the PR head — and across from them, Rin.

She was dressed plainly again, but her expression wasn’t. There was tension there, faint but visible, like she’d been holding her breath since morning.

“Sit,” Saya said.

I obeyed.

The silence lingered for a solid ten seconds before she finally spoke.

“You’ve caused quite a bit of excitement this morning.”

“I—uh—noticed,” I said carefully. “Half my campus thinks I committed high treason.”

Saya didn’t even blink.

“Congratulations. That means the story reached every demographic we didn’t want it to.”

I scratched my neck. “So… I assume you’re here to throw me into the sea?”

The PR woman finally looked up from her tablet. “Not quite. We’ve already issued a statement. You are, officially, an intern who was assisting with technical setup during a power outage.”

“Right,” I said. “Because nothing screams romance like calibrating tripods.”

That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of Rin’s lips.

Saya tapped the table. “Listen carefully. You didn’t do anything wrong. But perception is everything. You were seen arriving with me, and leaving alone late at night. That combination writes its own story.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “A really stupid one.”

“True,” Saya said dryly. “But stupid stories spread faster than accurate ones.”

The PR woman continued, “We’ll steer focus away with Rin-san’s upcoming appearance. The Smiling Daisy meet-and-greet is still on schedule, followed by a short live performance. We’ll use that event to reset public attention.”

I blinked. “Wait, I’m still shooting that?”

“Of course,” Saya said. “The best way to kill a rumor is to act like it never existed.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “So you’ll do your job, take great photos, and not give the tabloids any more material. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And maybe consider buying an umbrella next time.”

“…Yes, ma’am.”

A beat of silence followed before Rin finally spoke. Her voice was calm, but soft — the kind of soft that carried guilt.

“I’m sorry, Hajime-san.”

I blinked. “For what?”

“For all of this. I should’ve been more careful.”

“Hey,” I said, waving a hand. “Don’t apologize for the weather. Or my bad luck. Or the internet’s collective stupidity. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

That got her to laugh quietly, tension easing for the first time since I walked in.

Saya closed her folder, clearly satisfied. “Good. Then it’s settled. Keep your head down, keep your lens up. And Mikazuki?”

“Yes?”

She smirked faintly. “No more late-night storms.”

“Roger that,” I said. “I’ll only risk my career during daylight from now on.”

Outside the glass doors, the city glowed faintly with the promise of evening — neon lights and drizzle, same as always.

I exhaled. My career wasn’t over. My dignity was bruised.

And somehow, Rin Tsukishiro had apologized to me.

As I waited for the elevator, my phone buzzed again.

A message from Ryo.

“BRO I SAW THE PRESS STATEMENT. YOU SURVIVED?! LEGEND.”

I groaned. Maybe dying would’ve been easier.

But still… I couldn’t help smiling a little.

Next stop — the meet and greet.

And this time, I’d make sure the only thing trending was the photos themselves.