Enji lounged in the spa, basking in the attention of the women gathered around him.
Draped in a pristine white robe and with his legs confidently crossed, he looked every bit the playboy he aspired to be.
His smirk was infectious as he held court, flirting effortlessly.
"I keep telling you, ladies—most men only care about boobs and ass," he said with a mischievous grin, "but me? I love women in every shape and form." He winked, eliciting a chorus of laughter.
The older woman to his left tilted his chin toward her, inspecting his face with a playful smile.
"This is the face that makes me regret marrying my husband," she teased, her voice thick with humor.
The younger woman to his right burst into laughter. "Ah, the energy of youth! I'm so jealous," she said, gently patting his hand.
Enji chuckled, leaning back with unshakable confidence. "Why regret? You're here with me now, aren't you?" His answer, smooth and daring, made the women laugh even louder.
In truth, Enji was inspired by his friend, Haruto. If Haruto could juggle multiple women, why couldn't he? He had the looks, after all—it would be a waste not to use them.
'I just have to be smarter about it,' he thought smugly.
But just as his thoughts drifted back to Haruto, his phone buzzed with an incoming video call. His brow furrowed.
"Haruto?" he murmured, surprised.
Haruto wasn't the type to call, much less video call, unless something urgent was happening.
'Did Mari snap? Is she secretly a psycho?' Beads of sweat formed on Enji's temple. 'Is she chasing him with a knife or something?'
He answered the call, and what greeted him almost made him drop the phone.
Haruto looked like he had just gone through hell. His hair was disheveled, his face was beet red, and his mouth was full as if he just got a filler.
He looked like he was one breath away from passing out.
Unable to help himself, Enji burst into laughter. "What the hell happened to you?!"
"Sh-shut up!" Haruto rasped, his voice hoarse. He coughed and cleared his throat, grimacing. "Damn it... I think I pressed the wrong button."
"Wrong button? What are you even—?"
Haruto cut him off, his tone was deadly serious. "Listen to me. I'm sending you the address of this ramen shop."
"You need to get here and keep Asuka away from this place. Do not mess this up, Enji. If she finds me like this, I'm dead meat!"
"Asuka? Who's that?" Enji frowned, confused.
"You just met her earlier! Don't play dumb!" Haruto snapped, before abruptly ending the call.
Enji blinked at the blank screen, letting out a long sigh. "I have the worst friend in the world," he muttered.
The women beside him leaned in, their faces filled with curiosity.
"Ladies," he said, standing up with a theatrical sigh, "it seems I must take my leave. Duty calls." He flashed them a winning smile.
"I'm so sorry, Haruto," she said quietly, her voice tinged with regret.
"I didn't mean for it to get this bad. I just... I just wanted us to have fun."
The way she looked at him like she'd been the one suffering through the fiery ramen, made his heartache.
"You don't have to apologize," he said, giving her a reassuring smile. "This isn't your fault. But next time... if you're upset with me, promise me you won't drag me to a place like this, okay?"
Mari pouted, her cheeks puffing out slightly, but she nodded. "Fine... I just..." She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.
"I was worried you were... you know... cheating on me."
Her words hit him like a bolt of lightning. Her intuition was scarily accurate, and guilt gnawed at him.
The system had put him in this predicament, and now he understood why it threw these challenges at him.
It was testing his heart.
Haruto took a deep breath, his throat still raw but his resolve wavering. Part of him wanted to come clean, to tell Mari everything.
But he knew not all women were like Asuka—understanding, playful, and willing to share.
"Mari..." he started, his voice low and hesitant. "Actually—"
Enji stood outside the ramen shop, a smug grin plastered on his face as he replayed Haruto's panicked expression in his mind.
"Oh man, Mari really outdid herself this time. That woman is terrifying! But this... this is priceless. Absolutely worth the trip."
He couldn't help but laugh loudly knowing so well that Haruto couldn't stand spicy food. He didn't care if the passerby thought he was crazy.
He just wanted to stir some drama between both of them, but Mari took a step further, making it worse.
After a moment, he composed himself and glanced around. His eyes landed on Asuka, standing near the shop's entrance.
She was hard to miss—her silky brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face that radiated an effortless charm.
Her emerald eyes sparkled like gems beneath the glow of the streetlights, and the green kimono she wore clung to her figure in just the right way to command attention.
"Damn," Enji muttered under his breath. "How the hell does Haruto pull this off? She's like a walking dream."
However, his admiration was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.
A man hovered near her, leaning in close and speaking animatedly, though Asuka's indifferent demeanor suggested she wasn't the least bit interested.
"Huh... could he be her husband?" Enji rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"If that's the case, no wonder she's sneaking around with Haruto. Poor guy probably doesn't stand a chance."
He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. His priority wasn't to psychoanalyze Asuka's personal life—it was to keep her from crossing paths with Mari and blowing Haruto's cover.
Turning his gaze back to the ramen shop, Enji's eyes drifted up to the second floor. An idea sparked, and he quickly pulled out his phone to shoot Haruto a message:
"Got an idea. Stall Mari. Get her upstairs somehow. I'll keep Asuka downstairs. Don't screw this up, man."