Fueled by the borrowed fire of [Academic Ability: A], Kuroha Akira's mind was a precision engine, instantly calculating several paths to deception. A dose of inspirational sap, a spiritual massage, a triple-layered combo of flattery so thick she'd forget her own name… abducting her would be child's play.
But… did he want to do that?
For a short-term hustle, trickery was the fastest route. But for cultivating a long-term meal ticket from the ground up? Trust was the non-negotiable currency.
In simpler terms, he needed to establish their dynamic from the start.
If he approached her from a subordinate, supplicant position, this girl—who was acutely aware of her own staggering 'hardware'—might never take him seriously. What if, after he painstakingly nurtured her to stardom, she turned into a rich diva who tossed him aside for a newer, shinier toy boy? He'd become the ultimate clown in a tragic NTR comedy.
Kuroha Akira had zero interest in tasting that brand of betrayal.
Therefore, their relationship had to be founded on equal partnership. And for a truly coveted partner, there was only one currency that mattered: sincerity.
So, here and now, he needed to deploy a serious, straight-talking rebuttal!
"Have you looked enough?"
Just as Kuroha Akira solidified his strategy, the girl's cool, detached voice cut through his thoughts. Though she was merely showing her palm, a faint, inexplicable sense of exposure made her maintain an icy façade to mask a sliver of shyness.
Unknowingly, her [Soul Performance] proficiency ticked upward a fraction.
Kuroha Akira mistook her tone for impatience. "Yes. Conclusion reached. You can put your hand away."
"Then speak."
It was less a request and more a command, laced with a subtle urgency. She was eager for his verdict.
'Do I meet your lofty standards?' Her cooperation was rooted in wounded pride. She knew her own worth, and Kuroha Akira had just confirmed it.
"I'll be blunt," he began, his tone shifting to one of brutal honesty. "With your looks, even without me, you'd inevitably be scouted into the entertainment industry. You could make a living from it. I'm guessing you've been approached by talent agents before."
… Hn.
A silent nod. She'd never given those fawning scouts a second thought. Now, the tables had turned, and her fragile pride was being methodically dismantled. Simply losing the shield called 'family' had rendered her this vulnerable… this insignificant. A pang of inferiority etched itself deeper into her heart.
Kuroha Akira continued, sprinkling the harsh spice of reality onto her emotional wounds. "Even as a complete amateur, your face alone would open countless doors. If you were willing to pay a certain… physical price, you'd probably rise through the ranks at breakneck speed."
…
"So yes. You have the potential to be a star."
The risk of this approach was obvious: by making her understand her true market value, she might become inflated… in her self-worth. But that was a problem for after she agreed to partner with him.
Right now, Kuroha Akira saw only confusion in her eyes. She wasn't mentally prepared for the entertainment industry's crucible. Until recently, she was just a student, a campus belle admired from afar. The leap into society, let alone accepting its seedy underbelly, was too much for an unseasoned high school girl to process.
That's why she looked lost after his description. Her internal question wasn't "Can I become a star?" but "Do I even want to walk this path?"
Kuroha Akira saw through her and voiced the doubt she couldn't articulate. "But here's the real issue: do you actually want to walk this road?"
…I don't know.
"Then let me tell you," he pressed, his gaze steady. "You're only considering it now because you feel you have no other choice. I just happened to appear before your helpless self. You've tacitly accepted that your appearance is your only asset, that you can only survive by monetizing your face."
...
Perhaps it was true.
She loathed her own face most of all, yet had ultimately conceded that this visage was her sole, cursed currency. The raven-haired girl felt a fresh, acidic wave of self-hatred for her own perceived helplessness.
"But the truth is," Kuroha Akira continued, his voice a notch softer, "if all you want is survival, you don't have to walk the entertainer's path. You could just get a part-time job, like you said. It would just be... brutally hard."
I...
Could she endure hardship? Was she willing to?
The girl believed she could. But if survival was the only rule, why not use her most powerful weapon? Even if she despised this gift, it was a gift the world coveted.
"And even if you do choose the entertainment industry," he pressed, his tone sharpening again, "have you thought about your actual goal? How far do you intend to go? What specific obstacles will you face? And when you hit them—will you have the grit to push through?"
...
"I don't think you've considered any of this. And even if I demanded an answer right now, you probably couldn't give one."
...
This time, her silence wasn't deliberate. She was truly speechless, rendered mute by the onslaught of practicalities, a flush of shame heating her cheeks. She realized how little she'd actually thought this through—like a foolish child playing at adulthood. This was her own future, and she was treating it with reckless casualness.
Am I… giving up on myself?
How could I—!
But even if she tried… where could she go? There was no home to return to…
"Though I don't know your exact story," Kuroha Akira's voice cut through her spiral, "I can guess what you're thinking: 'I have nowhere to go back to.' That's it, right?"
…!
Hit the mark. Her expression visibly wavered, shock flickering in her eyes. How does he understand so clearly? Can he read minds?
Kuroha Akira simply spread his hands. "Don't look at me like that. I'm no psychic. I've just seen other runaway kids before. Your family drama isn't unique."
…
He was right. Every household had its hidden chapters. Truly harmonious families were the exception, not the rule.
"Tragedy theaters are playing everywhere in this world. You're not the only tragic heroine on stage." His deliberately callous sarcasm made her flush and bury her face in her knees once more.
I really have been full of myself… so self-absorbed.
But Kuroha Akira wasn't finished. "And 'nowhere to go'? That's just melodrama. You're seriously lacking in creative thinking…"
…
"Did your family home materialize out of thin air? Didn't your parents build it? Does the 'place to return to' in your mind have to be something that always existed?"
…Ah.
She understood. The girl raised her head again, a flicker of its former luminance returning to her eyes, her gaze pulling back from the abyss.
"I can… build my own home. Is that what you're telling me?"
Heh.
Had he just yanked her back from the brink of total negation? Sympathy? Pity? Comfort? Those were useless indulgences that only sapped strength. What was needed was a clear target!
And the fuel of defiance!
"Exactly!" Kuroha Akira's voice took on a galvanizing edge. "So, don't you want to prove yourself to them? Use your own achievements to declare, 'I don't need you! I can thrive on my own! I'll carve out my own kingdom!' Wouldn't that be the ultimate revenge?!"
Ugh—!
The girl was truly stirred. Her breathing grew rapid. The realization dawned: she could be the one who leaves, not the one who is left. A fire seemed to ignite in her chest, casting light onto a path she couldn't see before.
"If you want that…" Kuroha Akira said, his voice dropping to a serious, resonant timbre. He raised a single index finger toward the moonlit sky. "Then give me half of your future."
His eyes locked onto hers, the deal presented not as a request, but as an inevitable pact.
"I'll help you reach the summit of your life."
And, incidentally, bring me along for the ride to the upper slopes.