Capítulo 46: Chapter 46 : An Unsuspecting Trap

"... Midori-chan?" Arata's concerned voice was heard from the other end of the line.

"... Yes?"

"Did you hear my words just now?"

"... No."

"....."

Of course, she didn't. All she heard was S-9898's shameless proposition, and then her mind turned blank.

"Midori-chan, I know that this must be scary for you, and I feel really bad about putting you in this situation. But I need you to be brave, alright?"

"... Yes, Onii-chan."

Midori had no other choice but to be brave, anyway.

"Do you have the slightest doubt regarding Kiyoshi Matsumoto-san's involvement in this criminal case?"

"No."

"... You don't?"

Arata could barely believe his ears. Midori's answer did not match his expectations at all. While the possibility of her having second thoughts regarding her previous statement remains, Midori's recent subdued demeanor aligns with a witness' typical behavior when seeking to distance oneself from matters at hand.

"No, Onii-chan, I am sure that he's the one you and Inspector Serizawa are looking for," Midori answered smoothly in a convincing tone.

At his office, Arata tugged at his collar and cleared his throat.

"... In that case, are you willing to meet him again? Maybe you can dig some truth out of him?"

"Absolutely."

Arata was starting to have a headache. Maybe he needed to talk some sense into his sister. She knew who Kiyoshi Matsumoto was, right? Knew, as in, heard about him? Or read one of the newspaper articles about his magnificent family?

"... Let's talk again tomorrow," he decided. Either way, he was not going to put his pregnant little sister in a dangerous situation.

"Tomorrow morning, I will be at St. Anne's Academy for my lesson in womanly arts," Midori said. "Please come pick me up, Onii-chan."

"... Okay."

Arata was all confused after he ended the phone call.

Midori, in contrast, had already processed her confusion and shock, emerging with a newfound determination.

All she had to do was talk to Kiyoshi Matsumoto and gain 100 Red Love Points within 48 hours. Afterward, the 50 Life Points were hers.

And the fourth mission did not come with a penalty upon failure!

Midori was close to shedding happy tears.

Or laugh.

Or both at the same time.

This was practically a gift for her hard work as a transmigrator.

How many points did she get from Akiyama Kinoshita last time? Over 1500 Pink Love Points?

100 Red Love Points were going to be so easy.

She most likely only had to make her appearance before Kiyoshi Matsumoto, and reminded him of their pleasant encounter at the family register office.

As soon as she had her 100 Red Love Points, she was going to run as far as possible from the dangerous man, before he had the time to sink one of his fangs into her.

With a plan simmering in her mind, Midori ascended the stairs. Reaching the top, the unmistakable sound of a slammed door sliced through the silence. It originated from Fumiko's bedroom.

Midori stood frozen, her gaze fixed on the offending door for a long moment, before retreating to her own chamber.

The essay she'd been diligently crafting prior to the phone call lay sprawled across the desk, yet her eyes were drawn to the ink smudges and creases that marred its surface, imperfections she could have sworn weren't there before.

Moreover, the sheet seemed to have shifted, ever so slightly, from its original position.

A slow, smug smile crept across Midori's face. Some snakes, indeed, were remarkably easy to trap.

She folded the piece of paper and shoved it inside an envelope, intent on showing it to Takiko the next day.

And yet, when she arrived at Takiko's office the next morning, Midori did not get to see the headmistress. She came across her son instead, sitting on one of the couches, with both hands pressing against his knees.

"Akiyama-san," Midori said with a touch of astonishment as she closed the door behind her. "I did not expect to meet you here."

Akiyama slowly raised his eyes to meet Midori's.

"I asked to meet you, Midori-san. I will be the one to teach you the art of Japanese tea preparation today, if you don't mind."

Midori tilted her head to the side and smiled at Future Second Husband 1.

"Only if you are as good as your mother, or better," she quipped.

Akiyama left his chair and walked toward Midori with an outstretched hand.

"Real gentlemen do not brag. I will let you rate my ability at the end of the lesson."

Midori took Akiyama's hand, and the young man led her outside the room, then outside the building.

"Where are you taking me?" Midori asked with an arched brow.

"I thought that you wanted to learn how to prepare Japanese tea," he said. "The art of Japanese tea preparation is a delicate dance between precise technique and profound artistic expression. It is a ritual steeped in Japan's long-running history, philosophy, and aesthetics, where every movement and element is imbued with deep meaning."

Akiyama led Midori toward his car and opened the car door for her gallantly.

"Learning it in a cramped classroom only serves to stifle its essence, stripping it off everything it is supposed to represent."

Midori slipped into the car, sinking into the plush leather seats. Akiyama followed, his presence filling the small space with a comfortable warmth. A flicker of a smile played on his lips as he met her gaze in the rearview mirror.

"By the way, haven't we met those two ladies before?" A furrow creased Akiyama's brow as he gestured towards two young women outside their car window. Battling the harsh winter, they were vigorously shoveling mounds of snow, their faces flushed with the cold. Deep lines etched between their narrowed eyes, betraying their less-than-pleasant mood. When their gazes accidentally met Midori's, they flinched, swiftly redirecting their attention away, as if caught in an unwelcome spotlight.

Midori giggled.

"I don't know. Maybe."

A playful snicker hushed across Akiyama's features.

"Drive," he spoke to the man who sat in the driver's seat. Following his order, the driver smoothly started the car and pulled away from the familiar grounds of St. Anne's Academy.

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