Chapter 3
The Red-Haired Beautiful Boy
Chomp, chomp.
The boys were stuffing burgers into their mouths one after another.
Their appetites were unbelievable—like hippos at feeding time.
Ai sighed deeply and put her straw between her lips.
Sluuurp.
At least this was safe to drink—plain, bitter oolong tea.
“Oo-chan, you’re my only real friend,” she said, patting her cup fondly.
“Huh? You sure that doesn’t make you fat too? You’ll go all blub-blub!”
“Hohoho! The four-thousand-year history of China guarantees it’s slimming. I’m fine!”
Yoshii always had to throw in one comment too many.
While the group bantered noisily, someone noticed them from across the food court.
The person smiled gently and began to approach with light, graceful steps.
Kawahara noticed first. “Huh? What’s that…?”
Everyone—men, women, young, old—turned to look, falling silent.
Jaws dropped, time seemed to stop.
Because walking toward them was a boy so beautiful, he looked as if he’d stepped straight out of a movie.
He seemed about the same age as Ai and her friends.
A bit short for a middle-schooler, yet too mature-looking to be an elementary kid.
His pale skin was finely chiseled, his features sculpted like art.
Wavy, flame-red hair spilled to his shoulders, blazing against the snow-white coat he wore.
The coat, lined with golden buttons, was fastened only to the waist, the front opening slightly as he walked—revealing smooth white legs that peeked from short white shorts. The effect was oddly sensual.
“Dude, check it out—looks like some visual-kei rock vocalist.”
“Huh? What, what? Kyaa! He’s gorgeous! Get your phone out, hurry!”
“Don’t have one. School banned them, remember?”
“He’s dreamy! Is that a prince type? If someone like that were my boyfriend, I’d spoil him rotten!”
“Hah! Says the girl still living off her parents.”
“If you’re gonna spoil someone, spoil me instead.”
The two boys were clearly not amused.
“So that’s what a real pretty boy looks like, huh?
He’s coming this way, Ai! Should we talk to him?”
“Look! His eyes—one red, one gray! Different colors! Are those contacts? So cool!
He’s not Japanese, right? How do I say come sit with us in English?!”
“Uh, I dunno! Crap—he really is coming this way!”
The boy’s expression wasn’t a smirk or a grin—it was a refined, polite smile.
With graceful steps, he stopped right in front of the group.
The four chatterboxes who never stopped talking were suddenly struck dumb, mouths open, words gone.
“Excuse me, young ladies,” the boy said softly, bowing slightly.
“H-hello! Good mornin’!!” Ai blurted out.
“Idiot! Speak Japanese! Uh—hello, do you know Ai?” Yoko corrected, flustered.
“An acquaintance, perhaps? Actually, I have a request…”
The beautiful boy suddenly twitched and turned sharply.
“My apologies—this way, please!”
“Eh?!”
He grabbed Ai’s hand firmly and pulled her with surprising strength, rushing toward the exit.
