Mash-Up: I'm Not A Substitute

"Asleep."

Yoizakura Hitomi looked like she had just woken up, her half-lidded eyes drowsily gazing at Takashi as she covered her small, pink lips with one hand and let out a yawn.

"Hey, don't just sleep in someone else's home." Takashi looked at the stunning girl in front of him, his tone filled with helplessness.

"I'm not sleeping in someone else's home. I'm sleeping in my own home."

Yoizakura Hitomi leaned lazily against the doorframe, her silky silver hair tied into a playful ponytail that swayed slightly. Her delicate, oval-shaped face exuded an innocent charm.

"I'm still renting this place, aren't I?" Takashi grumbled with mild dissatisfaction.

Yoizakura Hitomi ignored his complaint and instead said, "Kitahara-kun, don't you think the rent is a bit too low?"

Takashi, a man who knew when to back down, immediately surrendered. "Uh, I wasn't peeking at anything I shouldn't."

Damn it. If she weren't his landlord and hadn't been kind enough to allow him to keep a dog, he would've made sure she knew who was boss.

Seeing Takashi swallow his frustration, Yoizakura Hitomi chuckled.

When she laughed, dimples appeared on both sides of her cheeks, making her especially adorable.

The first time Takashi saw her smile, he was utterly captivated.

But now, he was used to it.

"Here, a thank-you gift."

Takashi handed her a small cake he had bought from the dessert shop.

He had bought it specifically for her.

Lately, since the number of dates he had to juggle had increased, he barely had time to walk his dog.

To prevent it from tearing up the apartment, he had been relying on Yoizakura Hitomi to take care of it.

He liked ice cream but wasn't a fan of sweets.

Yoizakura Hitomi took the cake without hesitation and began eating while casually asking, "You've been coming home pretty late these days."

"I have to make money to support myself."

Takashi changed his shoes at the entrance.

"Not everyone can be like you, living a carefree life at such a young age."

Even though he was a transmigrator, he was still working hard to save up for a house, while this woman in front of him already owned a whole building and lived off rental income.

That's right!

A whole building!

The entire apartment complex he was renting from belonged to her.

It seemed that the heavens were indeed fair.

While gifting her beauty, they also freed her from financial worries.

"Is making money really that hard? Just put a hundred million yen in a Western bank and live off the interest." 

Yoizakura Hitomi spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Great idea. Now, tell me—where do I get a hundred million yen?"

Takashi remained unfazed.

He didn't even have the energy to complain.

"A person shouldn't be this poor, right?" Yoizakura Hitomi bit her spoon, tilting her head slightly.

So cute.

Cute enough that Takashi wanted to punch her.

"Sorry, but I'm just a poor guy who can't even scrape together a hundred million yen." 

Takashi rolled his eyes, walked into his apartment, tossed his bag aside, and plopped onto the couch.

His husky glanced at him before turning its attention back to the TV.

Takashi glanced at the screen—it was Crayon Shin-chan.

Could the dog even understand it?

"You do have a bit of a pretty face. Ever thought about becoming a host? I hear hosts make good money." 

Yoizakura Hitomi, now sitting beside him, made the suggestion.

Takashi stroked his dog's head. 

"I'm already working as a host."

What he was doing now wasn't much different from working at a high-end host club.

The only difference was that he wasn't playing with the girls' emotions, and they weren't in love with him either.

Unlike real hosts, who would do anything for their sales.

He had heard that in Japan, many women went to extreme lengths to support their favorite hosts—some even resorted to the adult industry or sugar daddy arrangements just to afford their lavish spending. 

It was terrifying.

"Really?"

Yoizakura Hitomi's eyes lit up with excitement.

She leaned in closer, her pure and elegant face magnified before his eyes. "Which club? I'll come buy a champagne tower for you and boost your sales."

Takashi poked her smooth forehead with his index finger, gently pushing her away. "I was joking. Why are you so excited?"

Yoizakura Hitomi pouted in disappointment and quietly continued eating her cake.

[Mission complete. Calculating rewards.]

[Player has received: 5,000 points.]

[Date count: Shijo Maki · One time]

Just as Takashi was watching TV with his dog, the system notification sounded in his head.

His interest was piqued.

Finally, his points had reached 100,000.

Now, he could allocate some stat points.

Alright, system.

Let's see how far you can go.

Takashi was about to buy a +1 Intelligence stat when he suddenly remembered that Yoizakura Hitomi was still there.

What if he suddenly collapsed?

In all the novels he read, that's how it usually happened.

After some thought, he decided to wait until she left before upgrading his stats.

There was no rush.

Ten minutes…

Fifteen minutes…

Half an hour…

Takashi turned his head to look at her.

She was lounging on his couch as if it were her own home, one leg crossed over the other.

Her slipper dangled precariously from the tip of her toes, yet somehow never fell off.

That was when Takashi noticed—Yoizakura Hitomi wasn't just pretty.

Her feet were exceptionally beautiful.

Her pale, delicate legs were long and slender. Her toes, slightly arched inward, were neatly arranged, exuding an air of refined elegance.

Her foot shape was just right—not too wide, not too narrow—like a pristine white plum blossom in the snow.

If foot fetishists saw these, they'd probably cry out of sheer admiration.

Takashi suddenly recalled a friend of his saying, "A woman's body is nature's finest masterpiece, the pinnacle of beauty!"

"And at the peak of that pinnacle… are her feet!"

Back then, he didn't understand.

What was so special about feet?

But now, he was starting to get it.

Just as he was lost in thought, he suddenly felt something press against his face.

It was… a foot.

Takashi expressionlessly removed it. "What are you doing?"

Yoizakura Hitomi blinked. "You kept staring at my feet. I thought you liked them."

"I was zoning out. Also, where did you get the idea that I'm some foot-fetish pervert?"

"You play Arknights."

Takashi: "…F***!"

So in her eyes, playing Arknights automatically made someone a foot-fetish freak?!

Wait.

Now that he thought about it… she might not be wrong.

Hearing Takashi curse, Yoizakura Hitomi burst into laughter, clutching her stomach.

"Alright, I'm done with my cake. Time for you to get lost."

Takashi started shooing her away.

"Fine, fine."

Yoizakura Hitomi stretched, arching her back gracefully like a cat.

Her white nightdress traced the curves of her figure perfectly.

Seeing that Takashi remained seated, making no effort to escort her, she pouted. "You're really not going to walk me home? It's so late."

"You live next door. Do you really need me to walk you?"

"It's the thought that counts. What if something happens to me at my doorstep?"

Yoizakura Hitomi pulled Takashi up and forcibly dragged him five whole meters to her apartment.

"I'm home! Thanks, Kitahara~" she said sweetly.

"Heh." Takashi gave a forced, fake smile and turned to leave.

"Wait."

Yoizakura Hitomi stopped him.

"What now?"

Takashi was starting to get impatient.

"A thank-you gift for the cake."

She stuffed something into his hand.

"I don't need—"

Before he could finish, he froze.

"You can use it."

Yoizakura Hitomi shot him a playful wink before slamming the door shut.

Takashi looked down at his hand, staring in silence at the silky white stockings—clearly worn.

If he weren't worried about disturbing the neighbors, he would've shouted, "I REALLY DON'T LIKE FEET!"

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Check out the other translations too: [Mash-Up: Anything For Money]

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