Heaving a sigh, I adjusted my underwear; the trousers I had just changed into were still a little tight. Most outdoor clothes for men aren't made for comfort at all...They're only meant for showing off rather than to be worn. The fabric clung to my back the slightest bit—as if to accentuate the shape of my butt...I wasn't entirely comfortable wearing these clothes.
Still, it was necessary, considering that tonight's date had been arranged through the agency. They have a recommended dress code and appearance to uphold when meeting with clients. 'Alluring yet modest, not too provocative' kind of thing. That way, even if the guy fumbles around with conversation, he can at least appear cute enough to make girls swoon. Of course, these are merely 'recommended,' so at times, there will be no need to abide by them. It's not a legally enforced rule; the agency doesn't act as though they can make you wear such clothes against your will.
But for a new guy like me—as someone who has recently started college and is still poor—this agency would most likely end up being my primary source of income. I really do want to follow their requirements, however.
Even on my first date with Yui Ishikawa, I had dressed in an outfit similar to this. Although that outfit was a bit too aged and cheaper looking than what I'm currently wearing.
With the money I earned from that date, I bought several newer clothing—I feel that dressing up now is something I should do more often. After all, it feels nice to get dolled up once in a while.
The shirt I'm wearing right now is a pretty expensive-looking one from a chain store called 'Embrace,' a shop which specializes in men's casual clothes. It's made of fine cotton, soft to the touch. The material feels somewhat supple—it doesn't just feel like fabric; it almost appears to be embracing me. It's designed to show off a slender physique, which suits my petite frame perfectly.
I combed my hair back with my fingers and checked myself in the mirror. From the front, my posture was decent enough, but from behind...my butt sticks out a little too much...or maybe I'm just imagining things?
Shaking my head—I turned away from the mirror, picking up the pile of conversation cards I had prepared for today's date with Fujiwara Kureha. From the outside, it seemed like I was doing something very adult, yet at the same time so silly—but that's what I had to do. I don't want another awkward date where I can't come up with anything to say.
The email I got from the agency a few days ago didn't give much detail about this girl. A little strange, really. All the previous clients I had received details for were relatively straightforward—relationship status, work field, and some basic info about their hobbies and interests.
Particularly concerning their occupation, every single one had their field of work written out clearly. A few of them even had 'Unemployed' as their status.
But for Fujiwara Kureha, the column was left entirely blank.
Not having any such information regarding Fujiwara Kureha was causing me to feel uneasy.
Perhaps this means she's rich, has some mysterious job, or is otherwise self-employed? Looking at her picture once more—she looks the part of someone who would own an elegant condo in Shibuya. Her hobbies are listed as opera and fine wine appreciation. There's also a photo of her clad in a baseball uniform, suggesting she can play the sport or enjoys watching it at least.
Despite all the flags that came up when reading through her personal info, I still decided to go ahead with today's date. The only reason was—the' Trusted member of the Love Stop' note written on the top right-hand corner of the card. No justification not to believe them after all.
Also, among all the profiles I had received from the agency until now, Kureha Fujiwara was the youngest one I had gotten. At twenty-four years old, she could be considered a recent graduate. An easier pick, if anything, compared to the forty-year-olds on my list.
Once again, I read over the conversation cards I had prepared in advance—snippets of general knowledge and facts about baseball that might be vaguely interesting to her. Popular opera pieces in Japan and samples of tasting notes for several renowned fine wines. Of course, I had never drunk wine before or gone to an opera, so all of the notes were based purely on the information I found in internet searches.
My phone was lying on the table next to me. I'd been using it for the past few hours while studying these cards. On the screen was a video clip of a woman explaining different types of wine to those who wanted to learn about them. She was slowly and carefully, trying to explain everything thoroughly without getting too technical.
There was also this thought at the back of my mind, constantly nagging me during my preparations for today's date. Do I really need to put so much effort into preparing? Am I trying too hard...? Can't I just flutter my eyelashes and play up the 'cute' guy act and leave it at that?
I shook my thoughts off—it seemed silly. Why should I get nervous all of a sudden? It's not like I'm trying to seduce her; I'm going on a date with her because she requested it herself. There won't be any embarrassing situations if I do this right.
I scoffed, took a sip from the glass of water sitting on the table beside me, and pressed play on the video clip.
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The Sunday evening sun was setting early in Tokyo Bay, illuminating the pale blue-tinted cityscape with its dull glow. The landscape spread out before me as though in a painting. That familiar view of Shinjuku, Yoyogi park, the Rainbow Bridge—the entire bay area, was covered in such beautiful sights.
I had arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes earlier. To be more precise, I had been waiting outside, trying to verify whether this restaurant was the one Kureha Fujiwara was meeting me at or not. I double-checked the address that was sent by the agency as well as my guide map several times. The restaurant was too big to mistake for another place, however...
The restaurant exterior looked old-fashioned—sort of like something one would see on a Europe trip. It's almost as if they're trying to recreate the vibe of a grand European house—but done with modernized artifice; and technology. A garden to the left, the lights from inside spilling out onto the path leading towards it. Red bricks and stucco walls covered in ivy...there are trees decorated with fairy lights, emitting a gentle glow every so often.
Gathering up all my courage, I went inside. I walked along the corridor until I found a receptionist just past the entrance.
The receptionist was dressed very well—a slim suit made from slightly dark-blue fabric, tied with a silk belt around the waist. A white shirt with a flower-embroidered collar buttoned down over it, complemented by a narrow black tie.
"Good evening, welcome to 'Les Senteurs de la Nuit.' How may I help you today?" She greeted me with an elegant smile.
Such a flamboyant name...French? I couldn't tell. However, it seemed like a fancy-sounding place. The entire decor of the restaurant was enchanting.
"Um, my name is Hiroshi Hirano. I'm meeting with Kureha Fujiwara at six o'clock," I replied to her; as politely as possible—curtly, but politely.
A beam of joy lit up the receptionist's face. "Wonderful! Yes! Miss Fujiwara is waiting for you in the private room on the second floor."
My hair stood on end when I heard her say that Fujiwara-san has already been seated. I thought of showing up early to calm my nerves before the date began—but she's here now, so that won't be an option anymore.
And, did she say a 'Private Room'...? In this large restaurant filled with people of various nationalities and cultures... It makes me anxious. A tiny seed of unease grew inside of me. She was a rich girl from an elite family after all, right?
One of the most frequent warnings my father dished out before I left home for Tokyo was—not to get yourself involved with rich girls or their families. 'They're bad news; they're nothing but trouble.'
But why would a wealthy young lady require the services of a rental boyfriend? I'd really like to know myself. With a grimace, I followed the receptionist towards the second floor.
The inside of this restaurant was decorated much more elegantly than one would usually expect from its exterior. There were lights running along the corridor, making me feel like I was entering some enchanted castle. The hardwood floors were covered in elegant rugs and had an ethereal feel.
We strode past several rooms filled with guests on the first floor—and arrived at the elevator leading up to the second floor. The receptionist pressed a button inside the elevator, which started to move upwards. It seemed rather old-fashioned...the interior of the car reminded me of something out of a black and white movie set in a rich person's house.
The second floor was even more impressive than the first. Floor-length curtains lined with silver brocade stretched all around the room. Multitudes of candles lined the sides of the walls—giving it an old English charm.
"This floor is only reserved for our VIP clientele. We don't have any other regular customers or members of the public on this floor." The receptionist explained with a smile. Her hair was pulled back into a French bun, giving off an air of classiness.
I nodded meekly, now dreading my decision to accept Kureha Fujiwara for the date.
Soon after, we reached my destination—the room where Kureha Fujiwara was waiting for me. The receptionist opened the door, revealing a large hall decorated with oriental rugs, luxurious wallpaper, and multi-hued cushions. There was a magnificent table at its center, surrounded by some of the most beautiful flowers I had ever seen.
But the one who really stole my gaze away was sitting calmly on the couch. Legs folded, smiling smugly with a glass of red wine in hand—Kureha Fujiwara.
"Hi, Hiroshi," she greeted me in an overly sweet voice while leaning against the armrest. Her pointed chin jutted forward confidently, lips parting slightly to reveal small white teeth. "I'm so glad to be able to meet you in person..." Kureha stretched out her hands towards me as she spoke. Her gentle fingers tipped with perfectly polished and manicured nails reaching out towards me like they were searching for mine.