The raven-haired girl's perfect brows knitted together in a faint, troubled arc. "I will not sell my body."
Kuroha Akira immediately let out a derisive snort. "At this point, you're still clinging to chastity and dignity? Do you even have the right to that luxury?"
"..."
She didn't flare up at the provocation. Instead, the words sank in, forcing a grim calculus. Besides her physical form, what tangible assets did she possess to trade for survival?
Kuroha Akira pressed on, adopting the smarmy tone of a seasoned lowlife. "Well, I guess you haven't thought that far ahead. If you had, I wouldn't have found you in a dump of a shrine. You'd be in Okubo Park."
"Why Okubo Park?"
"Uh…" Is this JK for real? Is she genuinely this naïve? He'd meant it as pure satire, but now he had to explain the seedy reference.
"That's the famous hunting ground for compensated dating. Girls line up meter by meter. All it takes is one night with a greasy, middle-aged 'uncle,' and you walk away with a five-figure payday."
Her frown deepened, a shadow of disgust passing through her eyes. To commodify one's own flesh… What was the difference between that and a slave market?
"With your face and figure," Kuroha Akira continued, his voice clinical, "you could probably charge 100,000 yen a pop and still have clients lining up around the block."
The average office worker's monthly salary was 200,000 to 300,000 yen. If she were truly willing to cross that line, survival would be the least of her worries.
Of course, that world had its own ruthless hierarchies. A standout beauty would attract vicious jealousy and become a target for 'management.' Her likely ending would be a tragic 'transformation' into something broken.
A normal person's mind, however, wouldn't leap to such extremes. The most basic logic was to exchange labor for currency.
She arrived at the same conclusion. "I can get a part-time job."
Heh. There it is. Right on cue.
Kuroha Akira's lips curved into a subtle, predatory smile. He struck while the iron was hot. "If you're looking for work, why not work for me?"
"For you?" Her tone held a clear question: 'Doing what?'
He laid his cards on the table, his earlier sleazy act melting into something more direct. "To be precise, I'm scouting for talent. Think of me as a… talent agent."
"…I see."
She'd been approached by scouts before—many times, in fact. Almost every time she ventured into crowded areas. She'd never entertained the idea. Her father had forbidden it, calling it 'unnecessary.' And there was another, deeper reason… she despised her own appearance.
If only I weren't born this way… The thought of disfiguring herself had crossed her mind more than once.
The boy before her was just another butterfly drawn to her cursed bloom. The very thing she hated most had now become her only viable currency. A bitter, ironic smile touched her lips. She understood that, for her present self, this was perhaps the simplest path to independence.
Just as she was steeling herself to agree, Kuroha Akira's expression shifted again, becoming stern and discerning. "But let me be clear: I'm very picky. I don't collect just any piece of trash."
As he said this, he felt a profound sense of absurdity. Anyone else would be on their knees thanking the heavens for such a find. He was actively insulting it.
It was a blatant provocation. And yet, the girl took the bait. Still smarting from being toyed with earlier, a spark of defiance ignited within her numbness.
"So, you're saying even I am not good enough to catch your eye?"
Kuroha Akira pinched his chin, his gaze sweeping over her with appraising coolness. "That… remains to be seen."
"What else is there to see?" Her meaning was clear: Isn't this face enough?
He knew what she meant but pretended otherwise, pointing at her hands. "Your hands. Let me see them."
"My hands?"
"Yes. Once I see your hands, I'll know if you're worthy of my investment."
"It sounds like you're just making an excuse to touch a girl's hands."
"Cough!" Kuroha Akira choked on his own saliva. I'm not some blushing virgin! And for the record, I'm a feet guy, not a hands guy!
"Who said anything about touching?" he recovered, adopting a businesslike tone. "Just a visual inspection. Simply hold them out like this." He demonstrated a palms-forward gesture.
After a moment's hesitation, the girl complied. Showing her palms was a harmless enough request.
And then, Kuroha Akira witnessed the day's most staggering spectacle.
It made his eyes widen imperceptibly.
I see…
This is… beyond ridiculous.
Kuroo, Kuroo… you really are a lucky charm. You always bring the most critical person at the most critical moment.
Were he not forcibly suppressing his reaction, he might have gasped aloud, his face a mask of sheer, undiluted shock.
On her right palm, three lines of shimmering text glowed, each more unbelievable than the last:
[Heavenly Voice: S][Light Body & Flexibility: S][Soul Performance: S]
Three pinnacle-tier talents.
An SSS-Rank Genius.
He'd just pulled the ultimate character card, the highest possible rarity. What kind of monster was this? Did such a thing truly exist?
This level of heaven-defying aptitude…
A single S-rank talent could propel someone to the absolute peak of a field.
Three?
Voice, physique, and acting—her artistic attributes were maxed out at creation. 'Future Superstar' was literally written on her character sheet.
Actress, voice actress, idol, dancer, singer… The list of viable professions was extensive. She could reach the summit in any of them. Her career path wasn't just broad; it was a multi-lane highway to stardom.
The most terrifying part? This didn't even account for her god-given, '11/10' visuals.
This was no longer a case of the gods pouring a little too much favor into one vessel. This was them upending the entire talent vat over her head.
It was… extravagant. An absurd over-investment.
"Have you seen enough?"
"Not… not quite. Only halfway."
Haa… Calm down. Breathe.
Right, it wasn't over. He still needed to check the other half—the left hand.
Kuroha Akira closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose to steady himself. After a moment, he reopened them and focused on her left palm.
He could already guess what he'd find. If this girl had any intention or training related to the entertainment industry, she'd be famous by now. Yet, Kuroha Akira had never heard of her. Even with his limited interest in pop culture, the boys in his class constantly buzzed about new idols and gravure models, debating whose measurements were superior. A beauty of her caliber would have been trending topic #1.
Her anonymity meant she was undiscovered. A hidden gem.
As expected, a scan of her left-hand proficiencies revealed only one skill even remotely connected to her talents: [Singing: Lv2].
No acting, no dance, no vocal training. Singing well was probably something she'd picked up casually at karaoke with friends, or maybe just a private hobby.
In summary: The raven-haired girl was a colossal, untapped goldmine. A money tree whose branches scraped the sky.
With her alone, he might not need ten 'powerful figures.' She could be the one-woman ticket to his life of leisure.
And he owed this encounter entirely to Kuroo… The little cat was now meowing insistently and pawing at his leg, its message clear: 'I delivered the benefit. Where's my milk?'
Kuroo… you really are a divine messenger, aren't you?
Now, the crucial question remained: How should he proceed to persuade—or, more accurately, strategically guide—her next?