Prologue
The night before the high school entrance ceremony.
I, Yuto Aoi, was sitting by the window of our apartment, feeling the gentle spring night breeze while flipping open a romance novel I’d read countless times before.
This novel, which had also been adapted into a movie, was legendary—not just for its tear-jerking story, but for the lead actor’s performance, which captivated audiences and swept the movie awards in the year it was released.
I’d watched that movie dozens of times, drawn in by the actor’s lines, expressions, and even the way his eyes moved—every detail was burned into my memory.
“The bath’s free~… Wait, are you reading that again, Yuto?”
My mom, fresh out of the bath, was drying her wet hair with a towel as she plopped down beside me.
“Yeah, well… Reading the book and then watching the movie makes you appreciate how high-quality it is. You should try reading the original too, Mom.”
I slipped a bookmark into the novel, set it on the coffee table, and stretched to loosen my stiff body before sinking deeper into the sofa.
“Romance isn’t really my thing… Besides, you know my heart belongs to your dad, right?”
She chuckled lightly, humming a tune that echoed through the spacious room as she tended to her hair.
Mom always seemed so happy when she talked about Dad.
My biological father, Yuya Kitajo, is a famous actor known by practically everyone in Japan.
He was also the lead in the movie adaptation of the romance novel I was reading.
“Oh, your dad’s starring in another one! We’ve gotta go see it.”
Mom grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned on the TV. On the screen, a news ticker in the top right corner announced Yuya Kitajo’s latest starring role, accompanied by footage of a female announcer interviewing him.
Watching it, Mom’s profile looked unmistakably delighted.
—My mom has never been married.
From what she told me, her parents, who were connected to the TV industry, introduced her to Dad. As a huge fan of his, she grew close to him, and eventually, I came along.
Back then, Dad was marketed as a “national treasure-level heartthrob” by his agency, with a predominantly female fanbase. Apparently, he considered retiring from showbiz because of the situation, but Mom begged him, saying, “If you let me have this child, I won’t ask for anything else—just please don’t quit acting.”
As a result, my existence was kept secret from the public, Yuya Kitajo continued his career, and he’s been providing financial support for us.
Thanks to that, we’ve never struggled financially, and we live in a tower apartment that’s honestly too big for just the two of us.
When Mom gave birth to me, she was still young and hid Dad’s identity even from her parents. Because of that, her father—my grandfather—disowned her.
That’s why, aside from my grandmother, who occasionally visited when I was little, I’ve never met any other relatives.
“Come on, hurry up and take your bath so you can get to bed. School starts tomorrow, and if you show up with dark circles from lack of sleep, you won’t make any friends—or get a girlfriend!”
I swallowed the urge to retort that my expression is always kind of gloomy, whether I’m sleep-deprived or not, and stood to head to the bathroom.
“Oh, but don’t go trying to get a girlfriend on the first day, okay? Wait until you actually know the person!”
“There’s no way I’d get a girlfriend on the first day—or any day after that.”
Is this just how moms of teenage boys act? It hardly seemed worth stopping me on my way to the bathroom to say something like that. I let out a small sigh.
“No way that’s true! You look just like your dad when he was young, and you’ve got my genes too, so I bet some upperclassmen girls will approach you!”
Her teasing tone caught my attention, and I paused.
“…Do I really look that much like Dad?”
“Well… you used to be about fifty percent me, but lately, I’d say you’re about eighty percent him.”
Her words sparked a single, nagging concern in my mind.
“…It won’t get found out, will it? That I’m related to Dad?”
When I voiced my worry, Mom burst out laughing, brushing it off.
“Nobody’s going to assume you’re related just because you look alike! If someone’s intuition is that sharp, I’d be shocked, but you could just say you’re a distant relative or something to dodge it.”
“…Yeah, I guess.”
Muttering that, I headed to the bathroom, a faint unease still lingering in my chest.
“…Do I really look like him?”
I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, murmuring to no one in particular. I couldn’t tell myself, but if Mom was so confident about it, maybe it was true.
If it got out, it’d obviously damage Yuya Kitajo’s career. The critical comments would pile up, and Mom would be hurt seeing them.
That’s something I want to avoid at all costs.
“—Maybe I’m overthinking it.”
All I need to do is live my new high school life as an ordinary student, raised in an ordinary environment.
With that thought, I felt a little lighter as I stepped into the bathroom.
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