Filming for Winter Sunflower was progressing smoothly.
Over the next few days, Shin Kitahara’s life settled into a steady, fulfilling routine.
During the day, he worked on set.
With the Screenwriter’s Glasses helping him dissect the script in advance, he almost never made mistakes once the cameras started rolling.
By now, the crew had firmly labeled him as dependable, easy to work with, and someone who always brought a certain presence to the screen.
At night, he returned to his rented apartment, now blessed with an actual heater, fried up a discounted piece of wagyu, poured himself a glass of red wine, and enjoyed a life that was, in some ways, more comfortable than the one he had lived before his rebirth.
On Wednesday evening, the crew needed time to prepare the set for a night scene, leaving Shin with nearly two hours to kill.
He had no interest in sitting inside the noisy cast lounge listening to background actors brag about themselves, so he wandered alone toward the public rest area in the television station’s main building.
The vending machines there had a much better selection.
Besides coffee, they sold hot soup and milk.
The moment Shin rounded the corner, he spotted a familiar figure.
Akina Nakamori.
Today, she wore a loose beige knit top.
Her hair had been casually twisted into a bun, and without the polished defenses she usually wore in public, deep exhaustion was plainly visible on her face.
She stood in front of the vending machine, searching through her pockets.
Left pocket.
Right pocket.
Then she practically turned her designer handbag inside out.
Apparently, one of Japan’s biggest stars had come out without any loose change or had already spent her last coin.
In an age before electronic payments, not having a hundred-yen coin meant the brightly lit machine in front of her was nothing more than a useless metal box.
Akina let out an irritated sigh.
Her shoulders sagged, and she was just about to give up and walk away.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
Three one-hundred-yen coins dropped crisply into the slot.
Akina startled and instinctively stepped back half a pace before turning around.
Shin stood behind her with two more coins still between his fingers and a mild, courteous smile on his face.
He didn’t stare at her.
Instead, he simply reached past and pressed one of the illuminated buttons.
Thunk.
A red can of hot milk rolled into the collection tray.
Shin bent down, picked it up, and held it out to the still slightly stunned Akina.
“Have something warm.”
His tone was completely natural, as though he were handing a drink to a coworker after a long shift.
“I noticed you staring at the black coffee.
In weather this cold and damp, drinking coffee on an empty stomach probably isn’t the best idea.”
Akina looked at his long, slender hand, then at the steaming can of milk resting in it.
She recognized him immediately.
The man from the hallway.
The one who still had her lighter.
“…Thank you.”
After a moment of hesitation, she accepted the milk.
The heat against her palm immediately chased the chill from her fingertips.
“I completely forgot to bring my wallet.” Akina pulled the tab and took a small sip.
“My assistant went out to buy food.
I have no idea when she’ll be back.”
“It happens.
When you’re busy enough, who remembers to carry loose change?”
Shin bought himself a can of hot coffee as well, opened it, took a sip, and gestured toward the other end of the corridor.
“I should get back to the studio.
We’ve still got a night scene waiting.”
With that, he gave her a small nod and turned to leave.
Akina stared after him, visibly surprised by how easily he walked away.
In this industry, almost everyone who approached her wanted something.
Some wanted to borrow her fame.
Some wanted her money.
And some wanted her.
“Wait.”
Akina suddenly called after him.
Shin stopped and looked back.
“What is it?
If you’re trying to pay me back for the milk, don’t bother.
The lighter you gave me is worth a lot more than this.”
“Who said anything about paying you back for the milk?”
Akina shot him an annoyed look.
For a brief instant, the famous songstress disappeared, replaced by an ordinary young woman with a surprisingly cute temper.
She searched through her pocket for a moment and pulled out an elegant voucher decorated with gold foil.
“Here.”
She held it toward him.
“Take it.”
Shin accepted the card and looked down.
[SEMBIKIYA – PREMIUM FRUIT PARFAIT VOUCHER]
Sembikiya was one of Japan’s most prestigious luxury fruit shops, famous for fruit and desserts priced far beyond what an ordinary salaryman would casually spend.
The voucher in his hand was worth well over ten thousand yen.
“A sponsor gave it to me, but I’m watching my weight right now.
If my manager catches me eating something like this, she’ll probably kill me.”
Akina pouted slightly and tightened both hands around the warm can of milk.
“Throwing it away would be a waste.
You bought me a drink, so just consider this my return gift.”
Shin paused.
When he looked into Akina’s eyes, he caught a faint trace of expectation.
Almost as though…
She didn’t want him to refuse.
“All right.
Then I won’t be polite about it.”
Shin accepted the voucher without making a fuss.
“I actually know someone who loves desserts from this place.”
“Good.
Then I’m leaving.”
Akina gave him a small wave, cradled the warm milk in her hands, and headed back toward the lounge.
…
Early the next morning, Shin walked into the makeup room to find Miwako organizing her brushes. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
“Morning, Miwako-san.”
“Morning, Kitahara-kun!
We’re shooting close-ups today.
How’s your skin looking?” Miwako greeted him cheerfully.
Ever since she had given him the bento, the two had become considerably more familiar with each other.
Getting along with the makeup department was basic survival wisdom on a film set.
After all, once the cameras started rolling, how your face looked depended almost entirely on the people holding those brushes.
“Thanks to you, I slept pretty well.”
Shin sat down in front of the makeup mirror.
Then, as though he had suddenly remembered something, he reached into his bag and pulled out the gleaming gold voucher.
“Oh, right.
Miwako-san, this is for you.”
“What’s this?”
Miwako took one look at it, and her eyes immediately went wide.
“Sembikiya?!
You’re kidding!
That’s the legendary rich-lady dessert shop!
This voucher can be used for their seasonal white-strawberry parfait, can’t it?
This thing is worth more than ten thousand yen!”
“A friend gave it to me.
I’m not really into sweets, and it’ll only expire if I leave it sitting around.” Shin smiled, speaking as casually as though he were giving away an ordinary discount coupon.
“You work hard all the time, Miwako-san.
Consider it a little thank-you gift.”
“Oh, goodness!
You really shouldn’t…”
Miwako protested with her mouth, but her hand had already tightened firmly around the voucher.
For an ordinary working woman like her, Sembikiya was the sort of luxury she admired from a distance but could rarely justify spending money on.
“You really know how to make people happy, don’t you?”
Miwako beamed and carefully tucked the voucher into an inside pocket as though it were a treasure.
Then she picked up her powder puff again, and the look in her eyes became deadly serious.
“All right, sit still.
Big sis is bringing out the secret weapons today!
I guarantee I’ll make you look even more irresistible than that pretty boy Matsumoto!”
For the next half hour, Miwako went all out.
She used a high-end ampoule serum normally reserved for the female lead to prepare Shin’s skin before applying makeup.
Her contouring was precise down to the millimeter, sharpening the already defined structure of his face and giving his features even more depth.
She even carefully adjusted the appearance of his hairline.
When Shin finally stood after the makeup was finished, the man reflected in the mirror was still wearing an old shirt, yet there was something about him that immediately drew the eye.
“Perfect.”
Miwako clapped her hands in satisfaction.
“I guarantee you’re going to have a whole crowd of girls falling for you.”
Shin studied himself in the mirror and straightened his collar.
A hundred-yen can of milk had turned into a ten-thousand-yen voucher.
And that ten-thousand-yen voucher had turned into a top-tier makeup artist giving him everything she had.
Barter, huh?
Shin brushed a hand over the Zippo in his pocket, then walked out of the makeup room with confident steps.