CHAPTER 65: 60. PLEASE STOP CONTACTING ME, OTHERWISE, I’M AFRAID MY SISTER WILL MISUNDERSTAND.

The location for the date was in the Asakusa District, just one subway stop away, at a music bar with a bar function.

When Fujiwara Reya was working part-time, he had performed here a few times and became quite familiar with the mama-san of the restaurant.

"Ah, hello Mr. Fujiwara."

Upon entering the store, the originally listless mama-san raised her chubby arm and greeted him with high spirits.

"Hello, Sister Eri." Fujiwara Reya nodded in response.

"Why are you here today?" the mama-san asked with a hint of anticipation.

"I’m meeting someone." Fujiwara Reya checked his watch, there were five minutes until twelve, so he smiled and cut the small talk short, "Time’s up, I’ll go find a seat, goodbye Sister Eri."

"Goodbye!" the mama-san, chin resting on the counter, said listlessly.

He walked from the bar to the dining area, scanning the surroundings with his eyes.

The store played European classical music, the oak floors were spotlessly clean, and since there weren’t many diners, Fujiwara Reya easily spotted his junior’s sister.

A woman with long, orange hair sat by the window, gazing emptily and indifferently at the pedestrians outside.

She held a whiskey glass in her hand, her skin snow-white, her fingers slender and long.

Reya’s first impression of her was a beauty exuding a cool elder-sister aura, her exact age hard to tell—perhaps twenty-two or twenty-three, yet saying twenty-seven or twenty-eight also seemed appropriate.

"Is it Miss Kasahara?"

Upon hearing the voice, Kasahara Fukaeri turned her head to look. Under the chandelier light, a warm smile bloomed on the youthfully handsome face, one that could supposedly melt glaciers deep within Antarctica.

Sadly, it did not melt her.

"Save that kind of demeanor, or my first impression of you will significantly drop." Kasahara Fukaeri wiped her lips with a napkin, looking at Fujiwara Reya with neutral indifference.

She had extremely deep-colored eyes, where various hues and shades intertwined, very charming. But Fujiwara Reya found it a pity; such beautiful eyes, without any depth, seemed to lack vitality.

Yet her voice unexpectedly brought more surprises, cooler than on the phone, each syllable carrying the texture of ice clashing with force.

When Fujiwara Reya sat down opposite her, Kasahara Fukaeri placed her hands stacked on the table, her lips pressed into a straight line, staring directly at his face without uttering a word, as if viewing a faraway, unseen scene.

A waiter approached, placing a glass of water and a menu on the table, along with a freshly picked red rose.

Fujiwara Reya straightened his back, took a sip of water.

Since she didn’t speak, he naturally didn’t bother asking, merely observing her silently.

Though said to be Asuka’s sister, there wasn’t much resemblance in appearances between the two. She was also very beautiful, perhaps even more captivating than her sister, with elegant eyebrows and nose. Her figure was impeccable. Her fiery, near-red hair invoked an aggressive splendor.

After a while, the waiting waiter couldn’t help himself and slightly bent down to ask, "Would the two of you like to order?"

Kasahara Fukaeri continued to look at Fujiwara Reya: "You order."

"Just for the record, it’s going Dutch." Fujiwara Reya preemptively stated, then turned to the waiter: "Seafood platter, duck terrine, grilled sea bream, celery-flavored roast veal, and a salad. I’ll take the sea urchin soup, how about you, Miss Kasahara?"

"Onion soup." Kasahara Fukaeri replied.

"Okay, please wait a moment." The waiter bowed in acknowledgment, noticed that more than half of the whiskey was gone, and asked, "Would you like another bottle of wine? We have all kinds of red and white wines, and we can also mix cocktails."

"We’ll call you when needed." Kasahara Fukaeri replied coldly.

"Alright." The waiter was unnerved by her tone and quickly took the menu from Fujiwara Reya, scurrying back to the kitchen as if escaping.

"This place is quite high-end," Kasahara Fukaeri remarked, looking at Fujiwara Reya, "You seem very skilled at ordering, do you eat here often?"

"I’ve just worked here for a long time," Fujiwara Reya shook his head, "Overall, I rarely eat out by myself, though I like dining in noisy environments, I always worry that the waiter will clear my unfinished food when I visit the restroom midway."

"Why prefer noisy places for dining?" Kasahara Fukaeri leaned back in her chair and asked.

She wore a blue silk dress, with a cream-yellow sun-protection jacket over it, both garments as delicately light as thin cicada wings. As she leaned back, the prominently full curve of her bust became distinctly highlighted.

Fujiwara Reya diverted his gaze with difficulty, masking it by lowering his head to drink water.

"The noisier the place, the more at ease I feel while eating, not worrying that someone will overhear if I talk to myself."

"Hmm," Kasahara Fukaeri succinctly commented, "Weirdo!"

"Weird how?" Fujiwara Reya asked.

"Aren’t you going to ask about the commission?" Kasahara Fukaeri started probing.

"You’ll naturally say when you want to." Fujiwara Reya shrugged.

Kasahara Fukaeri mimicked his shrug and said nothing, only pulling out a slim mint cigarette from her handbag, lighting it with a match from the bar, and gazing at him with a look that seemed to urge him onward.

"Then, may I ask..." Just as he started, the waiter brought two small plates—seafood platter and vegetable salad. Fujiwara Reya closed his mouth, reopening it only after the waiter left, "May I ask what commission Miss Kasahara would like me to fulfill?"

"Don’t get close to Asuka!" Kasahara Fukaeri stated indifferently.

"Uh, Miss, Asuka," Fujiwara Reya replied politely, "is my most beloved junior, a genius in my eyes, the one I admire. Your request is a bit..."

Kasahara Fukaeri puffed out a cloud of white smoke: "A bit what?"

"Will need more money!" Fujiwara Reya answered.

"That’s simple." Kasahara Fukaeri put the cigarette in the ashtray, took out a card from her handbag, and slowly slid it across the glass table towards him: "This card was just issued today, it has 50 million yen, and the password is the last four digits of my phone number."

"...?"

Fujiwara Reya blinked.

"Lady, how about adding another condition? Like asking Asuka to beat me up once, otherwise, I’d feel guilty taking this money."

"Just one condition." Kasahara Fukaeri picked up her cigarette again, her eyes cold.

"Understood!"

Fujiwara Reya swiftly took out his phone and opened Line.

Only one contact listed, the junior. He edited a message and sent it, the actions done in one smooth motion.

[Fujiwara: Please don’t contact me anymore, or else I’m afraid my sister will misunderstand.]

"Alright, please check the result." Fujiwara Reya extended his phone screen forward with one hand, tucking the card into his pants pocket with the other, "I’ve done as the boss asked, any follow-up issues are just fix, no returns."

In an instant.

Kasahara Fukaeri’s breathing became slightly chaotic, her chest heaving with anger.

The bulging curves were rather pleasing to the eye, while Fujiwara Reya fondled the 50 million yen in his pants pocket, grinning inside—what would it be like to see the aloof, proud sister and vibrant, coquettish younger sister in a catfight?

So exciting.