Chapter 2: The Untamed Beauty, Qing Ling Mei Long

Having bid farewell to the convenience store where he worked, Haruhi carried the rice balls and milk tea gifted by the proprietress, strolling along the winding paths of Shibuya in the early evening. October in Tokyo was not as warm as he had imagined; instead, the air was tinged with a faint, humid scent.

On the roadside, everywhere he looked, he saw girls in school uniforms—Kawani girls—with their long, bare legs exposed. He wondered whether they wore safety shorts when riding the subway.

Feeling the weight of food in his hands, Haruhi thought of Mrs. Uehara’s generous curves and welcoming bosom, and couldn’t help but sigh in his heart: What a gentle woman Mrs. Uehara was! He must find a way to repay her kindness someday.

His mind wandered to the “golden finger” he had acquired today—a romance game, apparently. Usually, aside from the ability to freely check character panels, there were no other special features.

But just now, he’d triggered a romance option in his mind, and the content of those choices resembled the paper-thin galgames he’d played before. One hallmark of those games was the ability to save and load at will.

Such a feature was commonplace in games, but if it existed in real life, it would be a true bug!

Thinking of this, Haruhi meticulously examined the virtual screen, scanning every corner. At last, he found a few tiny words in the lower left corner.

They were so minuscule that he instinctively bent down, peering closer to read them.

“For the sake of offering players a more authentic life experience, this game has removed the save and load functions.”

“Damn it!” Haruhi cursed inwardly. The most bug-like feature was gone. Just as he was about to straighten up,

A sudden warmth brushed his nose—through the faint blue virtual screen, he glimpsed a red plaid pleated skirt.

“Whoa!” Haruhi was startled, quickly taking two steps back.

Looking up, he saw a stunningly beautiful gyaru glaring at him in disgust, her skirt clutched defensively over her raised hips.

Her white uniform shirt was filled out, exposing a slender waist at the midriff, and beneath was a red plaid miniskirt revealing long, fair legs. She wore thick-soled boots, strikingly provocative in the autumn twilight, stoking the restlessness of youth.

Her golden, wavy hair cascaded down, and her animated eyes sparkled beneath long lashes.

He realized his nose had just brushed against the girl’s shapely, firm hips.

To make matters worse, this beautiful girl was none other than his classmate, Mirei Kiyoryo.

The infamous gyaru queen of Tokyo National High School—a top predator on the school’s food chain. Rumor even had it that the captain of the kendo club and the judo club had scheduled a one-on-one duel for her sake.

As his otaku friends put it, sharing a class with Mirei Kiyoryo was their greatest honor.

Haruhi had always despised such behavior. He’d thought that as a background character, he’d never cross paths with this pampered princess. Yet today, he’d become a pervert in her eyes.

If her admirers found out, he’d be doomed—possibly ending up as fish food in Tokyo Bay…

Just picturing the judo and kendo club captains, with their muscular bodies, sent a chill through Haruhi.

At that moment, the choice window popped up again.

[The renowned gyaru queen was just taken advantage of by a chubby otaku, but the sensation was surprisingly pleasant, albeit fleeting. So, you decide:]

[A. I’ll touch, I’ll touch! Why not touch? Don’t be stingy!]

[B. That red plaid pleated skirt doesn’t suit you. How about coming home with me to study fashion choices?]

[C. That felt nice!]

ps: In such a scene, apologizing is futile. Better to take a gamble—who knows, you might succeed! Go for it, young man!

Damn, even the system is at a loss for words? Haruhi was on the verge of tears. Ignoring the dialogue box, he apologized to Mirei Kiyoryo,

“I’m sorry, Kiyoryo-san, I didn’t see where I was going just now. Please forgive me.” He hesitated, but refrained from bowing.

He’d never understood the Japanese habit of bowing at the drop of a hat.

Mirei Kiyoryo said nothing. Just as Haruhi was about to say more, a sudden pain shot through his abdomen, so intense he curled up like a plump shrimp.

“Fat pig!” Mirei withdrew her arm, casting a cold glance at him.

After a while, Haruhi finally recovered. He looked up and saw Mirei Kiyoryo still standing there, even colder, staring at him.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” she said icily, then flashed a devilish smile. “Haruno-san, you don’t want the school to find out you’re a pervert, do you?”

“What…what do you want?” Her smile was beautiful, but Haruno Haruhi felt a chill down his spine, retreating two steps.

Half an hour later, in front of a slightly run-down apartment building in Tokyo.

Haruhi fumbled in his pocket for the keys, behind him a voluptuous, boldly dressed gyaru, her expression tinged with impatience.

With the keys in hand, he opened the door. Mirei Kiyoryo brushed past his broad frame, entered, and paused in the entryway, taking in the slightly shabby bachelor’s apartment.

Haruhi sighed as he admired her alluring figure. How had he ended up agreeing to let this delinquent queen into his home?

But refusing meant ending up feeding fish in Tokyo Bay. He hoped this young lady was merely acting on a whim and would soon leave.

He also found himself bitter at his own system. No save, no load; masquerading as a dating sim, yet lacking even such basic functions. Trash!

Mirei Kiyoryo stood at the entryway, peering into the small living room. It was about thirty square meters; though the furnishings were a bit old, she found none of the expected scattered tissues or discarded ramen cups. Instead, it was spotlessly clean—the gleaming tiles proof of the owner’s diligence.

She hesitated briefly, then removed her boots to reveal pristine white socks, stepping inside.

Seeing the gyaru didn’t enter wearing shoes, Haruhi relaxed a little. He wasn’t obsessive about cleanliness, but after the effort he’d put into tidying, he didn’t want it ruined.

Once inside, Mirei Kiyoryo showed less restraint. She dropped onto the sofa, crossed her legs, and surveyed the little room with unabashed curiosity.

The layout was simple: a twenty-inch television, a game controller beside it, a small coffee table in front, and a sofa.