Chapter 28: Encounter

At this point, she paused, offering Wakaba a wry smile. "Then, I entered my second marriage full of anticipation, believing it would be my true happiness, but I never expected..."

By the end of her sentence, she was choking back sobs. She leaned slightly forward, and the mature, distinct scent of a beautiful woman wafted over—enough to make any young man’s heart flutter and his imagination run wild.

Unfortunately, Wakaba just stared at her with a peculiar expression.

His gaze held no pity or heartache, but rather, a sense of scrutiny.

This reaction was incomprehensible to Saori Kamimura. In her eyes, the fact that she had treated her own marriage as such a trivial matter, based solely on the fortune-telling of a shrine priest, made her look like a foolish and naive woman. Most men, upon hearing this, would have been heartbroken and eager to step in and provide the happiness her two husbands had failed to give her.

Yet, why was Jing Shiratori not like that at all?

"Mr. Shiratori, why are you looking at me like that?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Madam!" Wakaba said with a straight face. "I previously thought your life was filled with misfortune, but now I realize the cause might lie entirely within yourself!"

"Within myself?" Saori Kamimura’s voice rose, a flicker of wariness crossing her eyes. "Why would you say that, Mr. Shiratori?"

"The shrine, which is known to be very accurate, said your second marriage would bring you happiness. The shrine cannot be wrong, so the only one left to blame is you, Madam!" Wakaba lifted his chin, wearing a look of profound wisdom. "Madam, how is it that you managed to turn a marriage that was destined to be happy into what it is now?"

"Huh?" Saori Kamimura’s mind reeled. It took a long moment for her to recover, and she looked at Wakaba with a strange expression. "Um... Mr. Shiratori, couldn't it be that the shrine isn't accurate?"

"Impossible," Wakaba corrected. "If it's a shrine known for its accuracy, how could it be wrong? Besides, if it weren't accurate, how would you have ended up married twice, just as it foretold?"

Hearing this, Saori Kamimura felt she had plenty to retort, but when the words reached her lips, she didn't know what to say. She stared into Wakaba’s clear, clean eyes for a long time in silence before asking a personal question: "Mr. Shiratori, you don't have a girlfriend, do you?"

"Of course not," Wakaba replied instantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Saori Kamimura thought to herself, *Just as I suspected, a damnably dense, oblivious man.*

"Then, I suppose you won't be asking me to stay the night either?"

"Why would I ask you to stay the night?" Wakaba asked, genuinely puzzled. "Isn't your house right next door?"

Saori Kamimura choked, nearly gritting her teeth in frustration. She shot Wakaba a resentful glare, stood up to leave, and said with a hint of irritation in her tone, "No need to see me out, Mr. Shiratori."

"Safe travels, Mrs. Kamimura," Wakaba said without turning his head, burying himself back into his potato stew.

He had to admit, Saori Kamimura’s cooking wasn't bad. But as he ate, he suddenly let out a cry of pain, dropped his chopsticks, and hurriedly withdrew his consciousness back to his original body.

...

—Original Body—

Miyagi Hyakka Academy.

In the spacious and bright dance studio.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch!" Wakaba clutched her head in pain, her graceful dance steps disrupted.

She was wearing a pale pink leotard, which was highly elastic, thin, and breathable. It clung to her petite, delicate frame, outlining her budding chest and a waist that could be spanned by a single hand. The low-cut design highlighted her exquisite collarbones and graceful neck. Her slender, shapely legs and tiny, snow-white feet, no larger than a palm, were like the world's most delicate works of art.

Her jet-black hair was tied in a single ponytail behind her, and her face, fair as carved jade, wore no makeup. She stood there, a vision of porcelain skin and jade bones, a scene unto herself.

"Wakaba, honestly! I thought you were practicing seriously, but you were actually daydreaming!" A woman in her forties, holding a half-meter-long wooden ruler, snapped sharply.

She wore a solemn black dress. Though her face showed wrinkles, one could still see the beauty of her youth. In particular, her elegant and noble demeanor set her apart from ordinary elderly women. She was Kieko, the dance teacher in charge of the elite class.

When she had entered, she saw Wakaba practicing from afar—graceful and pleasing to the eye. Her movements were standard; even the hovering spherical auxiliary robot hadn't flagged any errors. However, as a master of dance, she noticed the lack of the ethereal, lively spirit that should have defined such a talented young girl. When she approached, she saw the girl’s eyes were unfocused. Though her body kept moving, she was clearly daydreaming!

She had struck the girl on the head with the ruler three or four times before Wakaba finally snapped out of it.

"It hurts!" the girl’s voice sounded heart-wrenchingly soft and sweet, like music from heaven.

"You still know pain!" Kieko scolded. "Why were you daydreaming just now?"

Wakaba pursed her cute lips and lowered her head. She didn't want to say, but under Kieko’s stern gaze, she muttered, "I was thinking about delicious food."

*Smack!*

Kieko was so incensed she struck Wakaba’s head again with the ruler. "Are you trying to be the death of me, you little fool?"

Still unsatisfied, she added, "Your one month of remedial lessons is now extended to two!"

"Ah!" Wakaba didn't even have time to rub her sore head; she just stood there with her mouth agape, staring blankly at Kieko. Because of her escapade earlier, she had already missed many days of class. She was already dreading the month of night-time make-up lessons—now it was being extended to two months? She felt despair just thinking about it!

"Teacher Kieko, I was wrong! Please give me another chance!" Wakaba grabbed the hem of Kieko’s black dress, her large, lively, childlike black eyes filled with vulnerability and helplessness. A tiny crystal tear gathered in the corner of her eye, making her look like a creature not of this world.

No one could look at this scene without being moved.

*She is truly the most stunning and top-tier masterpiece the academy has ever seen!* Kieko sighed inwardly. Even she, an old woman, couldn't help but feel a surge of affection. *It’s hard to imagine how bright this girl’s future will be...*

Under the assault of Wakaba’s charm, Kieko eventually softened and rescinded the punishment. However, she insisted that from now on, she would provide one-on-one, face-to-face instruction, and there would be no slacking off!

Wakaba hung her head in defeat.

It was ten-thirty at night by the time she finished her lesson and left the dance studio.

Outside, the academy grounds were bathed in the faint silver glow of the moon, which shimmered on the surface of a small lake. By the water, weeping willows swayed in the breeze, and delicate water lilies spread their green leaves across the surface. The white and pink buds were on the verge of blooming, full of poetic charm.

Wakaba glanced back at the studio—a palace-style building with carved beams and painted rafters. Dozens of vermilion wooden pillars stood along the surrounding corridors, which were paved with white marble. Barrel-shaped cleaning robots moved slowly, patrolling as they swept.

She walked along the path by the lake toward the dormitory. As she passed a garden, her heightened senses picked up an unusual sound from behind a rockery.

"Who's there?" she stepped back, vigilant.