Can't We Skip Dating?

Utaha bent down, picked up the charms, and reached into her pocket to find the third one halfway out.

Although those charms had been forcibly shoved into her hands by Akira, she didn't intend to simply toss them away. 

After all, Akira had said her forehead was dark with ominous signs, implying something bad might happen—so it counted as a form of concern.

Even if one doesn't believe in spirits or omens, few would casually discard a charm meant to ward off misfortune. It's not just impolite—it's irreverent.

Now holding them in her hand, she examined the three charms closely for the first time.

The paper was a thick, soft yellow, slightly coarse to the touch with a rustic feel. 

The markings on it were drawn with an unknown red pigment. Each stroke stood out in relief, giving the charm a unique aura.

It was clear this wasn't mass-produced by a printer—these were hand-drawn with excellent skill.

Knowing they were made by hand, Utaha found it even harder to throw them away.

However, her intense focus, completely ignoring her surroundings, and the subtle smile she unconsciously revealed while inspecting the charms—only further agitated Tomoya.

"Utaha-senpai! What the hell is going on? Are those from that guy?!"

At his sharp accusation, Utaha raised her head and gave a peculiar smile.

"And in what capacity are you questioning me, Ethics-kun?"

"As your friend, of course!"

"As a friend, aren't you meddling a bit too much?"

"This isn't meddling! I just can't stand by and watch you sell your body to that kind of man!"

After yelling that out, Tomoya's face paled, and his voice trembled as he asked, "Utaha-senpai, is it true you… didn't come to school this morning?"

Utaha's gaze turned colder.

During lunch break, Tomoya had wanted to find Utaha to discuss the script, but when he sent her an email, she replied with, "Let's talk after club activities."

So he went to the third-year classroom.

Purely out of concern as a friend.

It was something so important that Utaha should've come right away—how could she push it off so casually?

But she wasn't there. After asking a few classmates, he learned she hadn't come to school at all that morning.

He had suppressed the urge to question her, because he didn't want to believe the wild guess flooding his mind.

But when confronted with such "evidence," he finally lost control, which led to the almost hysterical outburst.

And then came the next, near-disbelieving question.

"Utaha-senpai… where were you last night? Were you… with that guy?"

Naturally, an unbelievable question is answered with an unbelievable answer.

"Yes."

A single cold and clear word—that was Utaha's full response.

"No way! No way! Senpai, how could you—"

"Tomoya! That's enough!"

Eriri suddenly rushed over, grabbed Tomoya, and slammed him hard against the wall. 

She shouted angrily, "Last night when Utaha went home, it was already super late! 

That guy just happened to be leaving too, so he gave her a ride! I saw her get into the car! Got a problem with that?!"

Tomoya dropped his head, eyes wide. "Eriri?! How could you let Utaha-senpai get in his car???"

"Even my dad said Mr. Akira is trustworthy! Are you saying even my dad misjudged him?"

"Of course he did! That guy is a total con artist! Onmyoji? Feng Shui master? That's obviously a scam! Uncle Spencer got duped too! You've all been duped!"

"I don't need you to tell me if I've been duped! I'll judge for myself!"

"Eriri, you—"

Smack—!

A loud, all-too-familiar sound echoed through the empty hallway.

Unfortunately, this time there was no chair beneath Tomoya—he collapsed right onto the floor.

Behind him, Megumi looked down at her damaged textbook with a hint of pain in her otherwise emotionless voice. 

"Calm down, Tomoya. It was just a ride home. No need to freak out like that."

Lying on the floor in a daze, Tomoya slowly looked at Utaha. "Utaha-senpai… did he take you home?"

Utaha met his gaze for a moment and gave a small nod. "Yeah."

"The charms…"

"He gave them to me in the car. Said I was in danger lately and they'd ward it off."

"Then that…"

Seeing the cold look on Utaha's face, Tomoya swallowed back the words "what a scam."

"This morning… why didn't you come to school?"

"Bad mood. Couldn't sleep. Are you done with your questions, Ethics-kun?"

"Ah—yeah, all done. I knew you'd never do something like that, hahaha…"

Tomoya gave a forced laugh as he got up from the floor.

He still looked like he wanted to say something, but Utaha had already turned away and headed down the stairs.

She just wanted to go home.

No footsteps followed her. 

Most likely, Eriri had dragged Tomoya back to the clubroom to argue, or something else entirely—but whatever it was, Utaha no longer cared.

Once she was sure no one could see her, she bent down to rub her bruised leg and arm, wiped away the tears she'd been holding in, and when she descended the stairs again, her steps were no longer as steady.

Utaha was extremely afraid of pain—whether it was the pain of falling, or the pain of being suspected and interrogated.

She staggered through the school gates.

She hadn't gone far when she heard a mocking laugh.

"My, my… you really do look like a stray dog."

She turned toward the voice and saw a familiar-looking car parked by the roadside. The window was halfway down, revealing Akira's faintly amused face—and a half-lit cigarette.

She turned her gaze away and kept walking.

The car slowly rolled up beside her.

"Alright, alright. Not a dog. A discarded cat, happy now?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Didn't I say? Your forehead's dark, bad luck's coming. The weird part is, after I gave you the charms, the signs of bad luck got even worse."

Akira took a deep drag and flicked the rest of the cigarette out the window.

"So I couldn't relax. I came to check on you. If those charms have brought you trouble, you need to be careful. That trouble might be the source of the misfortune."

Utaha froze.

"Hmm? Trouble's already shown up?" Akira asked, sounding a bit concerned.

Utaha shook her head and said nothing.

Akira didn't pry further. He rolled down the windows a bit more to air out the cigarette smell inside the car.

"Get in, little kitten. Even if you don't want to be adopted, at least let me give you a ride home. Don't walk around the streets looking so pitiful."

Utaha held her still-aching arm, glanced at the car window with tinted glass, and silently got in.

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