The gray blue light from the two high resolution monitors cast onto his angular face, making it as pale and cold as a plaster statue.
Three days had passed since the brawl at Izu beach. His rigidly splinted left arm and the front tooth the dentist had temporarily capped still throbbed with pain, but those physical pains were nothing compared to the storm currently raging across cyberspace.
He sat motionless in his swivel chair, his pitch black, hollow eyes glued to a video sitting proudly at the top of the trending list on a major video platform. Its title blared in glaring red letters, reeking of dirty media trash. "[EXPOSED] The truth about the Izu Beach and the Thousand Dollar Rental Girlfriend! Hypocrisy rules?"
The video was posted by an anonymous rumor mongering blogger who went by the nickname Night Owl. His tone was mocking, shrill, and filled with a sick vindictiveness. In the video, he released a series of intricately spliced images. On one side was the image of him fiercely smashing the camera into the thug's face at the beach. On the other side were candid photos of Ichinose Chizuru.
But it was not Chizuru in her normal college student attire. They were screenshots from the Diamond app, along with countless blurry photos of her walking, eating, and smiling with all sorts of different men on service dates.
"Did you guys think this viral streamer was a hero saving a beauty?"
The YouTuber's voice rang out full of sarcasm, grating like nails on a chalkboard. "Wake up, you little sheep! That girl in the pink bikini is actually Mizuhara Chizuru, the ace of a company that provides rental girlfriend services. In plain words, a form of selling fake smiles and emotions to desperate men. And that streamer? He is just a mega simp, a client throwing money around for fun, then directing his own hero saves the girl act to polish his name! Someone who always opens his mouth to curse hypocrisy is throwing money to feed the fakest girl in the world! Trash truly belongs with trash!"
Accompanying this were anonymous receipts, as blurry as 1990s adult films, purportedly proving massive transactions from an account named Kazuya to Mizuhara. The online public was inherently a bloodthirsty flock of sheep. They did not care about the truth. They only needed an excuse to drag those on a pedestal down into the mud.
The comment section below the video was a battlefield of defamation. If the spears aimed at him were sarcastic, mocking him as a hypocrite, the words directed at Chizuru were obscenely and ruthlessly cruel. They called her by the worst derogatory terms degrading her dignity, associating her profession with the filthiest things at the bottom of society.
He gripped the computer mouse in his right hand so tightly his knuckles cracked.
Pistanthrophobia, the fear of betrayal and crowds, rose up once again, screaming in his mind. The space of the fifteen square meter room suddenly became suffocatingly tight.
This feeling was all too familiar. In his past life, he had also sat in front of a monitor like this, watching the whole world turn its back, insult, and trample his honor just because of a woman's slander.
His heart pounded. Cold sweat broke out down his spine. The selfish and ruthless survival instinct screamed in his brain. "Block everything. Turn off the computer. Stay silent. Just ignore it, just declare she is only a stranger, and this fire will automatically burn her alone. You will be safe. Do not step out of your comfort zone. You swore never to let anyone drag you into the mud again!"
He knew perfectly well that if he stood up to defend Chizuru now, he would have to face the entire brunt of public opinion. Every hidden corner, every piece of his personal information would be dug up. He would lose the safe, solitary position he had just built.
But if he stayed silent, Ichinose Chizuru would lose everything. From a girl's honor to her path to becoming a professional actress. This stain would follow her for the rest of her life.
He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his teeth together so hard that his newly capped tooth bled. Chizuru's tear soaked face when calling out to Grandma Sayuri, her resilience, and that warm embrace the night he had a high fever tore through the fog of fear. For the first time in both of his lifetimes, the boundary between ruthless self defense and his desire to protect someone else was pushed to the breaking point.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A brutal pounding on the door cut off his chaotic train of thought.
He snapped his eyes open, stood up heavily, and walked over to open the door. Outside in the hallway stood Kibe and Kuribayashi. The faces of both men held none of their usual banter or closeness. They were enveloped by an aura of gloom, indignation, and ultimate disappointment.
"Have you seen that video?" Kibe started, his voice suppressing anger.
"I have." He replied briefly, his cold gaze sweeping over his two friends. "So what?"
"So what?!" Kuribayashi suddenly yelled, stepping forward and grabbing the collar of his t shirt. The bespectacled guy who was usually so insecure was now burning with a fire of resentment. "You dare ask so what?! How do you explain this? Is Ichinose really a rental girlfriend?"
He did not brush Kuribayashi's hand away, only staring quietly straight into his eyes. Kibe stepped up, pulling Kuribayashi's hand down, but the look he gave him was also full of bitter questioning.
"I know about the Diamond app." Kibe gritted his teeth. "I knew Kuri used it to rent Ruka. I do not judge other people's professions. But Kazuya, what did you tell us? You always act superior, you curse hypocrisy, you scolded Mami like a stray dog, you judge everything. Yet behind our backs, you are just a guy throwing money to buy fake affection from Ichinose?"
"You guys do not understand the core of the issue." He intended to speak up and objectively explain the situation, but Kuribayashi cut him off with a bland, bitter smile.
"No, we understand it very well." Kuribayashi pointed his finger straight at his face. "You are a rotten hypocrite, Kazuya! You remember Ruka, right? She proactively broke up with me, saying her heart belonged to someone else. I saw her crying in the rain, completely broken on the day you went to buy cold medicine! What did you do to her? You forced her away from me to satisfy your ego, while you yourself are pining for and sneaking around with Ichinose!"
His heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. Kuribayashi's accusations were like knives striking his fatal weak points. The truth was twisted, but he could not deny that his own coldly ruthless actions had pushed everything into this mess. Ruka was hurt by his bluntness. And Chizuru...
"You have feelings for Ichinose, do you not?" Kuribayashi roared, tears welling up in his eyes. "Because of those cowardly feelings, you destroyed my love with Ruka. You lied to me and Kibe, turning us into idiots clapping for you! You call this world trash, but you are the biggest piece of trash, Kazuya!"
Silence.
A deathly silence enveloped the night hallway. He stood there, letting the night wind blow his hair. He had a dozen logical arguments to retort. He could use his verbal manipulation skills to crush Kuribayashi's reasoning in just three sentences. He could prove Ruka was psychologically ill, prove he never had any emotional transaction with Chizuru.
But he did not do it.
Because deep down, he knew Kuribayashi was right about one thing. He was a coward regarding his own emotions. And that cowardice was hurting the only people in the world who treated him genuinely.
"Are you done talking?" He lowered his eyes, his voice deep and hoarse, stripping away all arrogant defenses. "If you are done cursing, then go home. I have nothing to defend."
Kibe looked at him, his eyes holding ultimate disappointment. He let out a heavy sigh.
"I used to think you had changed, become someone respectable. But maybe I was wrong. You would rather protect your dark ego than be honest with your brothers. From now on, you are on your own."
The two friends turned and walked away. The sound of their footsteps faded and then disappeared at the stairs. The hallway was left with only the sallow light and his long, terrifyingly lonely shadow. The ice wall he built to protect himself had now truly turned him into a deserted island no one wanted to step onto.
But there was no time for self pity. The alarm bells of Chizuru being torn apart by public opinion online pulled him back to reality.
He gritted his teeth, turned around, and dragged his heavy steps to the door of room 204.
Knock. Knock.
He knocked on the door. It took nearly two minutes before the door cracked open. Ichinose Chizuru stood there. Her eyes were red, dark circles clearly visible under her eyes. She wore a baggy sweatshirt, tightly gripping her phone with the screen lit up by cursing comments. She looked like a little bird that had just weathered a massive storm, exhausted and haggard.
"What are you doing over here?" Chizuru spoke up, her voice dry. Despite trying to maintain her composure, the indignation hidden deep in her eyes could not be concealed. Being dragged into trouble falling from the sky just because of a neighbor was clearly not a pleasant experience.
"I need your help." He bit his lip, swallowing the lump of pride down to the bottom of his stomach. This was perhaps the first time in both of his lifetimes that he proactively bowed his head to lower himself and ask a woman for a favor.
Chizuru scoffed, a smile full of bitterness. "Help? Kazuya, I am being called a whore online by the whole country of Japan just because of a few photos of me appearing next to you. My life, my acting career is about to be thrown into the river. What do you intend to ask me to help you with? Playing a scarecrow so you can write a whitewashing script?"
"It is my fault for letting you get caught in the crossfire..." He looked straight into her eyes, his voice calm but strangely resolute. "And because of that, I will personally mince the dog that posted that video, returning your innocence. But to do that, I cannot fight alone. I need legal evidence from you."
Chizuru was slightly taken aback by his serious attitude and the blazing killing intent radiating from him. She opened the door wider, stepping back a pace to let him in.
Sitting opposite each other at the small glass table, he laid out the plan articulately, swiftly, and coldly, like a general mapping out a tactical sandbox. There was no room for sentimentality.
"That blogger has a fatal flaw. He used old receipts and spliced images. He does not know that your contract with Diamond has actually ended." He tapped his finger on the table. "What you need to do is provide me with the termination document of your employment contract with the Diamond app. The time must match when we completed the Crowdfunding fund."
Chizuru's eyes lit up. That was right. Right after the movie was finished and Grandma Sayuri passed away, she had officially submitted her resignation to the brokerage company, determined to pursue the genuine acting path he had opened up for her.
"I have the company's confirmation papers. With the red stamp and the official notice."
Chizuru nodded, hurriedly walking over to her desk drawer to rummage through it. "The app updates very slowly, so it takes over a month for the list to reset."
"Good." He nodded, reaching out to open the laptop he had brought along. "Secondly, I need all the behind the scenes photos from the day we shot the short film. Photos with Kibe and Kuribayashi doing lighting, Sumi as an assistant, and scenes of me holding the script directing. We must prove that our presence together was entirely within the framework of a professional artistic production, not cheap buying and selling dates. I think I still have not deleted the ruined takes, so we can probably use those."
"I understand." Chizuru pulled out a file folder and a portable hard drive, placing them on the table.
The tense atmosphere between the two was gradually replaced by the synergy of two strategic partners. Even though her heart still held anger and hurt, seeing his casted arm still swiftly operating the mouse for her, Chizuru's resentment gradually softened.
That night, at 11:00 PM.
His stream channel unexpectedly went live without warning. But this time, the number of viewers waiting had reached hundreds of thousands, mostly curious onlookers, haters, and those who wanted to see his reputation destroyed.
The screen was no longer the dark black avatar. It was an evidence presentation file, crisp to the pixel.
And his voice rang out. It was not the awkward hesitation like the day he slipped his tongue, nor was it out of control screaming. It was the voice of a cruel judge, carrying the killing intent of an awakened wild beast.
"Welcome, you fuckers." He started with a sentence insulting hundreds of thousands of viewers right in the face. "And an especially big welcome to the stray dog named Night Owl. Do you think a few receipts as blurry as porn and three candid photos can be used to blackmail and destroy someone else's honor? Today, I will teach you the price of slandering me."
And then followed a media slaughter that went down in the platform's history.
He did not lose his temper to justify himself. He dragged out every point of the exposure video and crushed them with ironclad evidence.
The screen displayed the scanned termination document of Chizuru's contract with the Diamond company, clearly dated before the incident at the beach occurred. Next were dozens of behind the scenes photos of the film shoot, the blood, sweat, and tears of the entire group working, and the link to the massively successful Crowdfunding campaign titled For Grandma's Dream.
"Open your eyes wide and look." He roared through the microphone. "The girl you call by those dirty words is a true independent actress. A filial granddaughter who grinded day and night to create a work of art before her only relative passed away! I am a film making partner and script assistant. And if protecting my partner from sexual harassment thugs at the beach makes me a sinner in your eyes, then this society is truly a garbage dump!"
Sharp arguments, undeniable evidence, combined with eloquence that struck the compassionate psychology of the crowd regarding the sick grandmother and the dream of making a movie, created an unprecedented turnaround. The online public, naturally easy to lead by the nose, instantly did a 180 degree turn. From cursing, they switched to indignation on behalf of Chizuru and turned back to tear apart the Night Owl's channel.
But he did not stop there. The finishing blow was the most chilling.
The screen displayed a civil and criminal lawsuit petition, already bearing the received stamp of the Tokyo High Court. The charges: Slander, defamation, and severe insult to honor and dignity. Accompanying it was the real IP address, full name, and permanent address of the YouTuber Night Owl, which he had gone to the trouble of digging up through online underworld connections.
"I am not going to keyboard warrior with you, you animal." His voice hissed through his teeth, chilling to the bone. "I am taking you to court. Prepare to sell your house to compensate for the mental and reputational damage to both me and her. Game over."
The stream cut to black. Social media exploded in the exhilaration of justice. The blogger's channel vanished within an hour due to mass reporting.
All the trouble had been smoothly resolved. Chizuru's honor was restored, and she even received an influx of positive attention from directors thanks to the viral spread of the movie making story.
However, in stark contrast to the resounding victory on the media front, deep inside room 203, everything collapsed.
He had done it. He had stepped out of his comfort zone, using all his intellect and recklessness to protect the girl he loved. But the price he had to pay for that momentary courage was facing head on the very things he had been and was most terrified of.
Having to face the anonymous crowd again, having to read the insults aimed at him and the person he cared about, had drained the last bit of his mental strength. His mind continuously replayed the past scenes of being pushed to suicide. The fear that one day she herself would turn her back and stab him with a knife gnawed at his nerve cells every night.
...
Two weeks had passed since that fateful stream, and his channel was completely frozen. No announcements, no new videos.
Inside the room, steeped in the smell of cigarette smoke, half eaten bento boxes, and trash. He had grown gaunt, his eye sockets sunken, his beard stubbly. The arm in the cast began to itch, but he did not care. He curled up in the corner of his bed, holding his head in his hands, his hollow eyes staring blankly at the moldy wall.
He avoided Chizuru to an extreme degree. He calculated the times she left the house to take out the trash, bought groceries to stockpile at midnight to absolutely avoid bumping into her. Every time he heard her footsteps in the hallway, his heart rate spiked, sweat broke out. He was afraid of facing her grateful eyes. He was afraid that if he looked into them, he would completely melt, would hand over his heart, only to suffer the tragic ending he was always obsessed with.
Depression had truly knocked on the door of the soul of the one who always patted his chest claiming to be the most rational in the world. He had beaten the whole world, but lost to himself pathetically.
...
Late one afternoon, a steady knocking sound rang out.
He lay motionless on the bed, ignoring it like a corpse.
"Kazuya."
Kibe's voice called out, deep and carrying profound apology. "We are out here. Me and Kuri. We know the whole truth about the movie, about the Crowdfunding now. We are sorry for that day."
"Open the door for us, Kazuya." Kuribayashi's trembling voice spoke up. "We brought grilled meat and beer. Everything is in the past, can we brothers sit down and talk for a bit?"
He kept his eyes shut tight, burying his face deep into the pillow. His teeth gritted so hard they bled.
Then, a third voice rang out, gentle but carrying a weight that pierced through every layer of soundproofing.
"Kazuya."
Ichinose Chizuru's voice. She stood there, right outside the door, her hands clasped tightly against her chest. "I know you are in there. How much longer are you going to hide from me? Open the door. Please..."
Three people stood outside the windy hallway, bringing forgiveness, friendship, and the most genuine love, patiently waiting for a response.