Chapter 36: A Stock with Potential

The women listening in couldn't help but cough, casting strange glances at Kitahara.

Hearing this, a look of longing flickered in Miyako Nakamae’s eyes. "That’s wonderful... You must really be enjoying life right now, then?"

The thrill in her heart was impossible to suppress; it felt as if it were about to burst forth. A chance encounter... and she had stumbled upon a top-tier prospect! Moreover, he was handsome, looked quite pure, and didn't have a girlfriend. If she put in some effort, perhaps she, too, could live the life of a wealthy socialite.

Miyako Nakamae’s gaze melted like spring water. If romance were the stock market, Kitahara would be a soaring blue-chip stock. Invest, and you shall be rewarded.

Seeing the ripple of desire in the eyes of this budding career woman, Kitahara smiled silently. He knew the fish had taken the bait. For now, Miyako Nakamae was just a gold-digger fresh out of society, lacking experience. As long as he cast the right lure, she would wrap herself around him. How did that saying go? As long as you have the rice, the chickens will...

Kitahara sipped his black tea in silence. He had laid the groundwork for so long; he hoped this gold-digger wouldn't disappoint him. Being proactive was good for both of them. However, he still needed a bit more bait.

"It’s alright, though my family is pressuring me to find a girlfriend..." Kitahara paused. "Since you’re not interested, Senpai, I’ll have to think of something else. But... I don't think that will be difficult."

A flash of anxiety crossed Miyako Nakamae’s eyes. "No, it’s not that I’m not interested, it’s just..."

Kitahara cut her off suddenly. "I’m going to the restroom."

"Oh, right..."

Miyako Nakamae froze for a moment, then looked back at the others who were watching and promptly shut her mouth. She was still early in her "career," and her experience was clearly lacking.

As Kitahara faced Miyako Nakamae to squeeze through the aisle, he was suddenly blocked. He looked down. A pair of massive melons were pressed heavily against his chest, truly astonishing to behold. From top to bottom, she exuded the scent of a mature woman. His sister always said purple had a certain charm.

Seeing Kitahara’s gaze, Miyako Nakamae shrank back shyly, covering her chest with her hands, not saying a word... yet the more she squeezed, the more they seemed ready to pop out. It was hard to tell if the shyness in her eyes was genuine or merely an act.

Kitahara chuckled, thinking what a fascinating person she was. He murmured an apology and walked away. Miyako Nakamae watched his back as if she couldn't tear her eyes away.

In the restroom, Kitahara took care of his business and looked in the mirror. The man reflected back was strikingly handsome, though his eyes held a trace of fatigue. "Too many late nights..." he muttered. "I should rest tomorrow." He pulled at his lower eyelids, noticing they were a bit dark. He decided to take it easy for a few days and pause his search for "counter-attack" missions.

Of course, before resting, he had to secure Miyako Nakamae. The funds would double. He wondered by how much.

Once he received the reward, he could properly renovate his relatives' graves and plant some flowers and greenery to make them look tidy.

He exited the restroom and returned to his seat. Miyako Nakamae offered a smile. "I know a great kaiseki restaurant nearby. Would you like to try it, Kohai?"

"Kaiseki?" Kitahara looked uninterested.

"The taste... is quite excellent." Miyako Nakamae hinted, wanting to gauge his financial strength.

Kitahara pondered for a moment, realizing this was the transaction phase. The gold-digger wanted to see his sincerity, and he wanted to see hers. Since that was the case, there was no reason to refuse.

Kitahara smiled and beckoned. Knowing she was testing him, he said, "Waiter, check, please." He hadn't had dinner yet; he might as well go and have a taste.

A flicker of joy crossed Miyako Nakamae’s eyes as she followed Kitahara out of the cafe. Spring nights were always a bit chilly, and with the added rain and a gust of wind, she couldn't help but shiver in her black stockings, naturally leaning into Kitahara.

"Are you cold?" Kitahara asked, looking down.

"It's okay, just..." Miyako Nakamae opened her mouth, looking up with a pitiful expression. "It would be nice if I could lean on you."

Kitahara didn't stand on ceremony, reaching out to wrap his arm around her waist and feeling the warmth of her body. The spring rain made the air cold one moment and feverish the next. Kitahara looked down at her profile; under the streetlights, her features were exquisite, her long lashes fluttering, her red lips parted in an alluring curve. From this angle, her chest was truly like two ripe melons.

What a perfectly ripe woman. To have such an excessive figure right out of society... What on earth did she eat to grow like that? He would have to ask later so his little girlfriend could try it.

While waiting for a car, Kitahara said casually, "Do you have a driver's license, Senpai?"

"I do, but I'm not very good at driving..." Miyako Nakamae hesitated, shaking her head. Whether she could drive or not didn't matter much to her. If needed, she could practice, but it wasn't strictly necessary—once she climbed the social ladder, she wouldn't need to drive herself; she'd have a chauffeur.

"It’s best if you practice. I’m planning to buy a car soon. Would you be my driver when you have time?" Kitahara asked.

"I’d be delighted."

A flicker of curiosity flashed in Miyako Nakamae’s eyes. A car was a display of a man's power, and she was very curious about how deep Kitahara’s pockets ran. But, for now, it remained to be seen.

Kitahara hailed a taxi, gave the address, and fell into deep thought. He really should buy a car. He wouldn't drive it himself, but he could keep it to show off to certain gold-diggers so they wouldn't let their imaginations run wild. Consider it an investment. Miyako Nakamae’s mission was related to money, and there was a high probability he would make it back.

As for what car to buy, it was best to pick something superficial, a model that was easily understood... A Maybach would be nice; it was perfect for rainy days and highway bridges. But to afford a Maybach, he’d have to see how the "fund-doubling card" performed tonight.

He was still pondering when his fingertips suddenly felt a warmth. Looking down, he realized that at some point, his hand had come to rest on Miyako Nakamae’s leg... He swore to himself it was an accident.

Miyako Nakamae seemed to notice, biting her lip with a shy smile, but she didn't pull her leg away. Instead, she pressed her legs together and leaned toward Kitahara. Her taut thighs clamped around his fingers—deep, very deep. Warm.

Kitahara only felt that her legs were warm, and beyond that, they were incredibly fleshy; a gentle squeeze revealed astonishing elasticity.

How sensible.

He began to explore naturally, moving from her knee up to her inner thigh, almost reaching the forbidden territory... yet, the closer he got to the mysterious realm, the greater the resistance from her hand. It seemed that was the limit.

Kitahara wasn't greedy; he massaged silently, a tacit understanding passing between them.

The taxi drove through the streets; the interior of the car was quite quiet. Raindrops fell against the window. Miyako Nakamae exhaled softly, biting her lip hard. Her flush deepened, and she tensed her legs, as if suppressing or enduring something... until a fine layer of mist coated the window. Her eyes instantly turned to liquid, her waist lost its strength, and she leaned limply against Kitahara.

However, those shapely legs remained locked tight, as if welded together, refusing to open. It seemed the money wasn't enough. Until the funds arrived, they wouldn't open.

When the sound of her breathing grew rapid, Kitahara withdrew his hand, sniffing his fingers unconsciously before doing so. No scent of the sea. The perfume on her body was strong, and her legs were no exception.

Kitahara looked at her in surprise. Seeing his gaze, Miyako Nakamae rolled her eyes involuntarily. In that instant, she was full of charm—the thrill inadvertently revealed by a mature woman was something a young girl could never match. When it came to stirring hearts, they were indeed very experienced.

The taxi pulled up in front of a Japanese restaurant. Kitahara was still kneading, and when he felt a gentle tap on his hand, Miyako Nakamae said, half-shy and half-angry, "Take it away already..."

"It's too cold out, just warming my hands," Kitahara laughed.

"You little pervert."

Miyako Nakamae spat lightly, her eyes filled with helplessness and shyness.

The two entered the kaiseki restaurant. Kitahara glanced at the modest decor and looked surprised. He had expected something much more luxurious, but it looked like just an ordinary *omakase* spot. This gold-digger was quite high-level—she knew how to cast a long line to catch a big fish.

Miyako Nakamae found a chair and sat down. She opened the menu, bit her lip, and said, "I'm a bit hungry..."

"Order whatever you like," Kitahara smiled. "What would you like to drink?"

"..." Miyako Nakamae hesitated. "Do you want to drink, Kohai?"

"No hurry. Let me check my dashboard first, then I'll decide."

"?"

Miyako Nakamae paused, stunned.

Kitahara glanced at his system and realized the mission was complete.