Am I being simulated by their love affair?

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"Tomatsu lives near the Zenpukuji River, I need to ask her about her situation..."

The boy leaned back on the sofa and sighed, looking at the ceiling.

He's not the type of person who likes to chat using electronic devices.

The message sent to Tomatsu received an immediate reply—perhaps the girl had been patiently waiting for his greeting, Matsueda Jun couldn't help but think.

"The water level of the Zenpukuji River has indeed risen a lot."

Tomatsu Yuka sent him a short video, showing the Zenpukuji River, now much more turbid and turbid, as seen from the window of a high-rise apartment.

"But my mom and I are home, so there's nothing to do. We're already getting ready for dinner."

"That's good." The boy breathed a sigh of relief. "What are we having for dinner?"

"Hot udon soup," the girl sent a bouncy bunny emoji. "Eating warm, comforting udon soup while watching the heavy rain outside the window feels so wonderful~"

"It would be even better if Tsunku were sitting next to me~~"

"..." Jun Matsue finally replied with "Eat more for dinner," and got up to go into the kitchen.

Hearing footsteps behind her, Natsumi Imokawa put down the cleaver in her hand and turned around. "Matsue, all the ingredients are ready!"

“Perfect timing.” The boy nodded. “I’ll start the fire. Imokawa, give me the apron.”

The girl obediently took off her apron—not by untying it, but by lifting it up from her head like she was taking off clothes. Jun Matsue watched as Imokawa's impressive bust swayed with her movements, more turbulent than the river water on television.

He quickly realized that the guy had taken off his bra again.

"You can wait outside for dinner." Jun Matsue put on the apron the girl handed him.

"No!" Imokawa Natsumi shook her head vigorously. "I want to watch Matsue cook."

“…Okay.” He turned on the gas stove. “Then remember to stay away so you don’t interfere with my cooking.”

Five minutes later, as he stirred the crab stick and scrambled eggs in the pot that were gradually solidifying, Jun Matsue realized he was wrong.

Even if Imokawa doesn't get close, he can still affect Imokawa's concentration while cooking.

Perhaps it was because the temperature in the enclosed space gradually rose with the fire, or perhaps it was because the girl was not tolerant of heat, but Natsumi Imokawa, standing by the stove, would often adjust her suspenders or tug at the neckline of her vest—her beautiful fullness would tremble along with it, leaving behind a softer and more voluptuous whiteness than a scrambled egg in the boy's peripheral vision.

"...Imokawa, turn on the air conditioner, it's getting a bit hot again." Matsueda Jun had no choice but to resort to this last resort.

"Oh, oh!" The girl, who was intently staring at the househusband version of Pine Branch, nodded reluctantly and turned to leave the kitchen.

By the time Natsumi Imokawa wanted to come back, the boy had already walked into the studio with two plates of crab stick and scrambled egg rice, so she had to hurriedly tidy up the space on the table.

However, her bending over revealed the softness of the large pile of snow, and Jun Matsue dared not look too long. She then brought out a pot of thick tomato sauce from the kitchen and poured it over the freshly baked, tender scrambled eggs.

"So delicious!" Natsumi Imokawa swallowed a spoonful of sweet and sour crab stick scrambled eggs, her eyes wide with amazement as she looked at the boy sitting across from her.

"Pine branches are amazing!"

Jun Matsue, engrossed in his meal, remained unmoved. "It's very easy to learn; just follow the videos online."

After indulging in his culinary desires, his defenses against young girls significantly improved.

Natsumi Imokawa, her cheeks puffed out as she chewed rice, blinked and looked at the boy's bangs.

He was still wearing an apron. Compared to the perfect and radiant Jun Matsue at school, the current Matsue seemed exceptionally gentle, considerate, and approachable.

She suddenly remembered the sigh her mother uttered when she visited her mother, watching her scratch her chest while writing a script.

"Xia Shi... looking like this, you'll definitely need to find a boy who can take care of you in the future!"

Chapter 671 Emergency Evacuation

After dinner, the sky over Tokyo became completely overcast, turning into a deep, unfathomable black.

Jun Matsue sat on the edge of the sofa, looking out the window. The dim yellow light from the streetlights below the building contracted and expanded irregularly, as if breathing with the sound of rain.

"Pine branches."

The boy turned around, and Natsumi Imokawa, who had just finished washing the dishes, walked over with her hands still wet. He took two tissues from the coffee table and handed them to her.

"Is the rain still not letting up?" The girl sat down beside him.

"No." Jun Matsueda showed her the screen on his phone. "The ceiling of Shinjuku Station has collapsed due to water seepage."

"That's amazing? When can we go back?" Natsumi Imokawa's eyes widened in surprise, but there was no disappointment on her face.

“…Let’s wait a bit longer.” Jun Matsue had a bad feeling. “This torrential rain seems to be breaking historical records. I heard that some sewer pipes have burst.”

"Oh—" The girl's lips formed a rounded "O" shape. "It feels like a disaster movie, like Noah's Ark or something?"

“That won’t do.” The boy raised an eyebrow. “My bicycle is still parked downstairs at the apartment building. It can’t be washed away by the flood.”

His strange focus made Natsumi Imokawa laugh. The girl pressed her pudding-like, trembling chest and didn't stop until a while later.

"So we're stuck in the house now?" She picked up the remote. "How are we going to kill time? Watch something?"

"Okay, Imokawa, you can choose."

The girl flipped through the remote control, saying, "Let me think... what kind of movie would be suitable to watch on a rainy day?"

Matsueda Jun noticed her unconsciously rubbing her fingertips. "Are your hands very dry?"

"Huh?" Natsumi Imokawa noticed his gaze lingering on her fingers.

"Ah, it happens after I wash the dishes. I usually put on some hand cream."

"It means the dish soap you're using is too harsh on your hands." The boy frowned. "You'd better switch to a different one. If you're too lazy to choose, just buy a pair of dishwashing gloves."

"Okay, okay." The girl nodded obediently. "I'll take a look next time I go to the supermarket."

"You seem to really like scrambled eggs?" Jun Matsue changed the subject again.

"Mmm!" She continued looking at the TV screen, "It tastes different from fried eggs and scrambled eggs, it tastes especially delicious."

"It tastes better because of the milk," the boy naturally began to share his experience.

"You've seen me cook, haven't you? It's actually very simple. Just beat more eggs, don't use high heat, and stir it regularly."

"Adding milk and black pepper when beating the eggs will make it taste even better. Scrambled eggs with rice is perfect for one person; it's simple and convenient, and you can add whatever ingredients you like..."

Listening to Matsue's gentle words, Imokawa Natsumi, who had been focused on choosing a film, became a little absent-minded. She glanced at the boy's hand resting on her leg out of the corner of her eye.

If we let Songzhi take care of my life as Mom suggested, that would be really great...

The image of me writing a script at my workbench while the guy cooks in the kitchen makes me happy just thinking about it.

But it seemed unlikely that Matsue would take care of her... The girl thought of Mochizuki Haruka and Tomatsu Tomoka, one with a cold demeanor and the other with a gentle expression, both of whom she dared not face.

And would Songzhi be willing to take care of himself?

It doesn't seem like it's impossible for good friends to share an apartment...

But Matsue has a girlfriend—how could she live with her best friend? Imokawa Natsumi shook her head again.

"What's Imokawa thinking about?" The puzzled boy interrupted her thoughts.

"N-nothing!" The girl waved her hand hastily. "I was just thinking about what movie to watch!"

"Don't take too long, okay?" Jun Matsue reminded her. "I need to hurry back once the rain subsides."

"oh oh……"

Suppressing her random thoughts under the sofa, Natsumi Imokawa's gaze drifted aimlessly across the screen—after all the afternoon's emphasis on making the most of the time, she now didn't want Matsue to make the most of it anymore.

"How about watching 'Identity'?" The girl casually picked a movie. "It's a 90-minute suspense film, and the story is set in a rainstorm, which is perfect."

"This one will do." The boy glanced at his phone; there were no important messages.

Natsumi Imokawa got up and turned off the living room lights. She took a cushion and sat back down, comfortably leaning against the backrest, and placed her bent legs on the sofa.

"Would you like a cushion, Pine Branch?" The girl turned her head.

"No need." Jun Matsue focused intently on the screen, ignoring her sweet breasts that were overflowing from being squeezed by the pillow.

Listening to the torrential rain outside the window, the two entered the motel into the stormy night and watched as people of different backgrounds trapped inside died one by one.

Listening to the intermittent whirring of the washing machines, the man in the soaking wet trench coat quietly entered the laundry room. In the dim light, the neatly arranged old washing machines looked like the perfect hiding place for a corpse; the dark, tightly closed drums sent chills down one's spine.

He opened the washing machines one by one, and the slow-motion shot, accompanied by eerie music, lingered on a blood-stained dress. The man's hand suddenly lifted it up, and with a sudden burst of music, the head of a young woman appeared—her face covered in blood and her wet hair, both tragically beautiful and terrifying.

Looking at the bizarre scene on the screen, Jun Matsueda couldn't help but blink. There was no movement around him. The boy curiously turned his head to see the girl's reaction.

Natsumi Imokawa was still hugging her body pillow. The strap on her right shoulder had slipped down a little, and her usually high breasts were flattened—this unusual shape made her even more alluring.

However, this was not what Jun Matsue was observing. He looked at the glimmer of light frozen in the girl's pupils, and then at the approaching blood-red figure on the television.

Was Imokawa not paying attention to the movie?

The boy deliberately closed the distance, but the girl didn't notice his tilted body, nor did her gaze follow the character on the screen. Matsueda Jun became more and more certain of his guess.

Are you still thinking about the portfolio? He recalled what Imokawa had said.

The final cut of the video will be completed in August, and the application for the Tokyo University of the Arts will be in September. The most crucial period for the girl is indeed fast approaching.

Jun Matsue thought for a moment, "Imokawa, your tank top has slipped down."

This is the easiest way to distract her.

"Oh." Natsumi Imokawa responded indifferently, still staring blankly at the movie, and casually pulled her tank top back up.

"..." Looking at her smooth shoulders, Jun Matsue chose to speak again.

When is the application period for the comprehensive selection process at Tokyo University of the Arts?

The boy changed his mind, thinking, "Why don't I just chat with her?"

"Register?" The girl's eyes, which were gleaming slightly, flickered. She came to her senses. "This year, it's from September 1st to September 3rd."

"Time flies," Jun Matsueda said, chatting while watching the bloody scene on TV. "Will you have time to compile your portfolio?"

"It's alright." Natsumi Imokawa waved her hand. "The application form is submitted in early September, and the portfolio and other materials are submitted at the end of September."

She crossed her legs and placed a cushion on top, giving her flattened, full breasts room to expand. A flash of lightning streaked across the window, illuminating the girl's exposed, delicate skin and undulating curves—this glimpse of spring in the dim light was far more alluring than blatant seduction.

The boy then focused intently on the blood-soaked corpse. "There should be plenty of time?"

"It's alright. I originally planned to finish editing my portfolio in a month, and the current progress is within the plan."

It was only then that Natsumi Imokawa turned her attention back to the living room in front of her—she had just been imagining the days she and Matsue spent in the studio, and all sorts of other miscellaneous questions.

With Songzhi's talent, besides being a model and actress, she should be able to work as an assistant as well, right?

But once he gets to university, Songzhi won't be able to help him for free anymore, right? He'll definitely have a lot of things to do and will have to work to make a living.

When the girl came to her senses, the boy next to her was still patiently talking about her preparations for the selection, almost incessantly.

"Imokawa, don't be too anxious. I've seen interviews with students who passed the entrance exam for Tokyo University of the Arts. You've prepared much more diligently than them—the rough cut you made before also had a great feel to it..."

...Was Matsueda worried about her? Imokawa Natsumi realized this fact.

She immediately put aside all her fantasies and began to enjoy the feeling of being cared for by the boy.

So Songzhi still cares about herself, doesn't she? The girl hugged the pillow in her arms tightly—the ordinary pillow seemed to have been imbued with a bit of a boy's scent, and it made her feel especially at ease when it was pressed against her chest.

What kind of salary would be enough to keep Songzhi in the studio with me every day from now on...?

Looking at the mysterious corpse on the screen, its throat pierced by a baseball bat, the girl pondered her troubles with a sweet expression.

It was past 8 p.m. when the movie ended. Jun Matsueda looked at the end credits that popped up on the wall and let out a sigh of relief.

"They were just different personalities after all..."

"Feeling pretty good, huh?" Natsumi Imokawa leaned closer, her hands resting on the sofa, her two drooping breasts beautifully shaped, revealing deep cleavage.

"If Matsueda is interested, he can also check out Fight Club—"

"It's too late." The boy got up from the sofa. "I have to go home."

"But can Songzhi go back now?" The girl looked behind him. The rain was pouring down on the windowpane without any gaps, making it impossible to see anything.

Jun Matsue turned around and opened the window a crack. A few raindrops stung his face like needles, instantly making him more awake.

"..." The streets below had completely turned into a river, and the boy felt like he was trapped on a deserted island.

He turned around and said, "How about I try taking a taxi first?"

In this kind of weather, no car would linger outside, so the taxi hailing plan naturally failed. Seeing the boy's helpless expression reflected in the dim light of his phone screen, Natsumi Imokawa's lips curled into a smug smile.

"Why don't you let Songzhi sleep here tonight?" she suddenly thought.

“…What?” Jun Matsue looked up, her eyes sparkling.