Chapter 19: After Losing Face So Many Times, One More Doesn’t Matter

This was the first time the two of them had done such a thing—something only young couples would do—in public. At first, Milene Kiyora tried to resist, but after glancing at Haruhi Harano’s profile and thinking it over, she ultimately let him take her hand.

After all, there was no one around who knew her, so she might as well consider it a reward for this chubby guy. After all, it was Haruhi who had spoken first, and as the victor, it seemed only fitting to grant the pitiful loser a little benefit. Poor Haruhi—he could only find a shred of comfort in holding her hand.

With that thought, Milene stopped resisting and allowed Haruhi to hold her delicate hand.

As they entered the mall, this odd pair—a chubby boy and a beautiful girl—drew a great deal of attention. Though Haruhi had a somewhat cute face, his physique was undeniable, and he looked utterly mismatched beside the vibrant, youthful Milene Kiyora. Yet, they looked so much like a couple that it could not be faked. What a lucky fat guy! Ugh! Jealous tears silently fell from the eyes of the onlookers.

Haruhi ignored the strange looks from those around them.

Lamb rolls, beef rolls, mushrooms, eggs...

Having earned thirty thousand yen from Yukiko Ogata that afternoon, Haruhi’s wallet was well-stocked. After selecting all the ingredients they needed for hot pot, Haruhi was about to leave the mall when he suddenly stopped at the exit.

He stood there, dazed, his gaze fixed in one direction.

Milene, curious, wondered what the chubby boy was looking at. She just wanted to hurry home and enjoy a big meal.

Following Haruhi’s gaze, Milene’s eyes landed on the bold sign of a women’s lingerie store.

“You jerk! What are you staring at, you damn fatso?!” Milene fumed, convinced this lecherous fatty was ogling the lingerie inside!

She raised a hand to smack Haruhi. It was humiliating enough just to be next to him—what a disgrace! Damn fatso!

Haruhi was completely bewildered as Milene suddenly lost her temper and hit him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Calm down!”

After much explanation, Milene finally believed him—that yes, he’d been looking at the lingerie, but only because he was wondering if he should buy her a set.

“Hmph! Well, then I wasn’t wrong either. Who told you to keep staring at the lingerie?” she insisted.

Even though she knew she’d misunderstood, Milene’s pride would never allow her to admit fault to this fat guy. Crossing her arms over her chest, she flicked her golden hair with a haughty snort, but the two embarrassed pink spots blooming on her delicate face betrayed her.

“All right, all right, you’re not wrong. Let’s go, then,” Haruhi replied.

Seeing Milene’s proud demeanor, Haruhi only shrugged indifferently.

Having said that, he turned to leave, right hand carrying a large bag of groceries, left hand scratching the back of his head, leaving Milene with nothing but his broad back and a sigh.

“Well, I was thinking of buying someone a couple of new sets of underwear. After all, it’s pretty uncomfortable to go a couple of days without changing. But it seems it’s not necessary now~”

As Haruhi walked off, Milene froze. Wait, that wasn’t how the script was supposed to go.

Normally, even if she was being unreasonable, Haruhi would shamelessly insist on buying underwear for a pretty, lively girl like her. Why did he just walk away?

Hey! You damn fatso!

Couldn’t you say a few more words? If you’d insisted a bit more, maybe I would’ve bought it...

Now that Haruhi had brought it up, Milene became acutely aware of how uncomfortable her undergarments felt—especially after yesterday and today at school, when they’d gotten dirty and sticky... Even if they were dry now, they felt awful...

Damn it! That fat jerk!

Noticing the girl hadn’t followed, Haruhi grinned, took two more steps, then stopped, wiped the smile off his face, and turned back with an innocent look.

“What’s wrong, Kiyora?”

The little delinquent stood her ground, slender legs wrapped in white knee-high socks, a red plaid skirt exposing a stretch of soft, full thigh, her white shirt tight and straining at the buttons. With her hands behind her back, her exquisite face turned aside—gone was the arrogance from just moments before, replaced with a touch of vulnerability that tugged at the heartstrings.

Her cherry lips opened and closed, muttering under her breath, “Jerk, jerk…”

“Are you coming or not, Kiyora? I want to get home and eat,” Haruhi called with a smile.

Suddenly, Milene looked up, her gemstone-like eyes fixed on Haruhi, and shouted from where she stood, “You’re such a jerk!”

Her voice trembled with a hint of grievance, but mostly with the coyness of a girl feuding with her boyfriend—a scene straight from a lovers’ quarrel.

How could that fatso make such a beautiful girl feel wronged?

Milene had thrown caution to the wind. She’d already embarrassed herself plenty in front of this guy—one more time wouldn’t matter.

As long as no one else knew, it would remain a secret shared only between her and Haruhi.

Out in the world, she was still the ever-glorious boss. But before Haruhi... so what if she embarrassed herself? She was broke, after all.

The commotion naturally drew everyone’s attention.

Seeing the jealousy in the eyes of the Japanese men around him practically boiling over into murderous intent, Haruhi muttered a silent curse.

Resigned, he walked over, took six thousand yen from his pocket, and handed it to her.

“Go buy what you need—I’ll wait outside.”

So much for the pride of a princess! It was all nonsense. In public, no less!

Milene snatched the money with glee, placed it in her palm, stuck out her tongue cheekily at Haruhi, and, humming a little tune, strolled into the lingerie store.

Haruhi did not follow. He didn’t want to provoke the swarm of otaku any further—someone might actually rush over and punch him.

After all, Japan was notorious for its abundance of wild, unpredictable men.

He found a random spot to squat, set the groceries on the ground, and absentmindedly played with his phone.

Just then, a boy in a dark green high school uniform approached.

Haruhi glanced at the white bandage wrapped around the boy’s arm and the left hand poised as if ready to form a ninja seal.

Another chuunibyou case.

With that quick assessment, Haruhi had no intention of engaging.

Talking to a chuunibyou was exhausting.

But, as fate would have it, the more you dread something, the more likely it happens.

Sure enough, after muttering a string of incomprehensible incantations, the high schooler looked straight at Haruhi.

“Hey, fatty, have you heard the goddess’s summons?”

The boy’s words were excruciatingly embarrassing.

Haruhi looked at his scrawny frame and resisted the urge to punch him. He stood up.