Tokyo: Idol Girls have absolutely no bad intentions!

She thought she had overcome her craving for food because almost everyone around her was eating the same meal, so she didn't have any extra thoughts about it.

But now I see Ito eating normal food...

That despicable Ito!

Director Hase clearly noticed Takikawa's overly deliberate "passing by".

He frowned and said directly, "Takikawa."

Takikawa froze, immediately stopped, turned around, and forced a professional smile. "Director, you wanted to see me?"

Her heart was pounding, and she prayed that the director hadn't discovered her peeping at other people eating.

"We'll shoot the other people's parts this afternoon." Director Hase pointed to Ito. "You'll accompany Ito to the recording studio. He's not familiar with this area, so you can show him the way and... um, see if he needs any help."

His tone left no room for argument, and he gave the order directly.

"Huh?" Takikawa was clearly stunned. Accompanying Ito to the recording studio?

Her first instinct was to refuse. Why me?! I don't even know him!

But seeing the director's unquestionable gaze, he could only swallow his words and reluctantly replied, "...Okay, director."

She slowly moved to Ito's side, her eyes still unable to resist glancing at his sumptuous lunchbox.

There's only one piece of fried shrimp left, and the grilled fish is almost gone. The stew's rich sauce coats the vegetables, making it look incredibly flavorful.

She could even clearly smell the enticing aroma, which contrasted sharply with the bland boiled chicken breast in her own lunchbox, making her stomach rumble even louder.

Ito was engrossed in his work when he felt the intense gaze directed at him from the side. He looked up and met Takikawa's sky-blue eyes, which were fixed on the last piece of fried shrimp in his lunchbox.

The look in his eyes was like that of a cat that hadn't eaten for days seeing dried fish, filled with naked longing.

He was a little confused. "What's wrong?"

Why is she staring at my food like that? Is there gold in my food?

"N-nothing." Takikawa forced himself to look away, but his throat still bobbed uncontrollably as he swallowed.

She felt her cheeks getting hot.

Ito didn't think much of it. Seeing her standing beside him, he casually asked, "Have you eaten?"

"Hmm," Takikawa responded listlessly, his voice slightly muffled, carrying a hint of barely perceptible grievance.

I ate, but it was the same as not eating at all...

"What did you eat?" Ito asked casually as he picked up the last piece of fried shrimp tempura.

“…Bento.” Takikawa’s voice was even more muffled, his eyes fixed on the fried shrimp that was about to disappear.

That's mine... uh, no...

"Mm." Ito nodded, and under Takikawa's lustful gaze, he put the last piece of fried shrimp into his mouth and chewed it with a crunch.

Takikawa: "....."

She felt her fist harden instantly, her nails almost digging into her palm.

That bastard! He definitely did it on purpose!

Showing off! Blatant showing off!

"How's Asada doing lately?" Takikawa took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to snatch the food, trying to change the subject and distract himself from the food.

She tried to make her voice sound normal.

"It's alright," Ito swallowed his food. "He's studying hard to prepare for his final exams."

As he spoke, he scooped up the last few mouthfuls of stewed rice with a spoon; the rich sauce coated the rice and looked absolutely delicious.

Yes, this stew is very flavorful.

As Takikawa watched the tempting sauce coat the rice and disappear into his mouth, he felt his stomach protesting wildly, feeling empty and uncomfortable.

She tried to maintain a calm demeanor, but her voice was a little hoarse: "How...is her singing practice going?"

"It's...it's alright." Ito's lips twitched involuntarily as he recalled what happened last night.

He had clearly stated that he didn't mind Asada's sexual orientation, but because he witnessed that embarrassing side of her, Asada said things like, "Ito, you're an idiot!" and "Ito, I hate you!"

I was planning to say something to them when I left this morning, but Asada didn't return all night.

To be precise, she was married by Hayakawa and brought back to her family home. As of now, she has no intention of returning to her parents' home. The food in her own refrigerator has become part of her dowry, and she even has to go to a convenience store two kilometers away to buy milk.

He picked up the miso soup, took a sip, and let out a satisfied sigh, "Phew—it tastes good."

The soup was also very delicious.

Takikawa: "......"

She felt she couldn't hold back any longer and wanted to snatch his soup bowl and drink it all in one gulp.

This guy definitely did it on purpose! Absolutely!

She was so angry she wanted to bite her teeth, but there was nothing she could do.

Finally, Ito emptied the lunchbox, leaving only a few slices of pickled radish and a little bit of leftover sauce.

"I'm done eating." He put down his chopsticks, then picked up his lunchbox and soup bowl, looked around, and asked, "Where should I throw the trash?"

"Give it to me." Takikawa eagerly reached out and took the empty lunchbox and soup bowl from Ito's hands.

An opportunity! That was the only thought in her mind.

"Uh... thank you?" Ito looked at Takikawa holding his leftover lunchbox, a little confused.

It's just throwing out the trash, why are you so enthusiastic?

And her eyes... something's off. Like a hungry wolf eyeing its prey?

No, I've already eaten all the meat... He raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"You're welcome." Takikawa said, then turned and left, carrying the lunchbox and soup bowl. He walked quickly, almost running, as if he were carrying some rare treasure, or as if he was afraid of being discovered.

As Ito watched her figure disappear behind the backdrop, he felt something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Forget about her.

He shook his head and continued discussing the details of the recording with the director.

Takikawa, clutching the still-warm empty lunchbox and soup bowl that retained the enticing aroma of sauce, ran all the way, his heart pounding like a thief.

She turned past several huge temporary backdrops, making sure no one was around, before stopping, leaning against one of the backdrops, and panting heavily.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the cherry blossoms, casting dappled patterns. A gentle breeze stirred up fallen petals, a few landing on her shoulder, but she remained oblivious.

His cheeks were slightly flushed from running and inexplicable excitement, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

She looked down, greedily eyeing the lunchbox in her hand.

Only a few lonely pickled radish slices remained, soaking in a little bit of the remaining dark brown, oily sauce.

The soup bowl was empty, leaving only a little brownish stain and a few chopped green onions.

The aroma of the sauce, mingled with the fresh scent of fried shrimp, the rich flavor of stew, and the sweet fragrance of rice, stubbornly wafted into her nostrils, like an invisible little hand scratching at her poor taste buds and stomach ravaged by healthy meals.

My stomach was making clear gurgling noises, protesting the previous blandness.

A strong emotion, a mixture of shame and longing, churned within her. I know this is shameful, pathetic.

A popular celebrity, actually coveting someone else's leftovers... The rational little person screamed, making her feel utterly ashamed.

But......

The sauce smelled amazing, and those pickled radishes looked a hundred times more tempting than my boiled chicken breast.

The nutritionist on set was a monster; he treated us all like rabbits.

The hungry and greedy little people roared wildly, their voices growing louder and louder until they gradually overwhelmed reason.

Just... just a tiny bit of the sauce... should be fine, right?

He'd already thrown it away...it was trash...and he was so hungry...that little bit of chicken breast wasn't enough to fill him up...this sauce smelled so good...

Wasting food is even more shameful!

Ultimately, hunger, cravings, and overwhelming resentment towards the crew's food, like a burst dam, completely breached the dam built by reason and restraint.

Takikawa looked around furtively again, like a thief, and listened carefully to the sounds around her. Even the slightest sound of the wind blowing through the canvas made her heart race.

After confirming that no one was around, she trembled as she reached out her finger and carefully dipped her fingertip into a little bit of the still-warm sauce left in the corner of the lunchbox, then quickly put it into her mouth.

The savory, slightly sweet, and rich aroma of stew, along with the unique complex flavor of braised dishes, explodes on the tongue instantly.

This is food fit for humans! The crew's so-called "healthy meals" are practically pig swill. My taste buds were instantly awakened by this long-awaited deliciousness, and I let out a satisfied sigh.

Takikawa came back to life.

She couldn't hold back any longer, and she didn't care about her image, her reserve, or her dignity; she threw all of that to the winds.

She picked up a slice of pickled radish, dipped it vigorously and repeatedly in the sauce, letting the crisp radish slice absorb the delicious essence, and then couldn't wait to stuff it into her mouth and chew it heartily!

The creaking sound was particularly clear in the quiet corner.

The crisp radish absorbed the essence of the sauce, becoming savory and delicious, so much so that she almost cried.

She temporarily forgot all her troubles, forgot the demanding director, forgot the arduous filming schedule, and even forgot... Yuuhito Ito, the man who was causing her so much distress.

Cherry blossom petals drifted silently down onto her hair and shoulders, while sunlight filtered through the gaps, casting warm dappled patterns on the corners of her mouth, which were stained with a little sauce.

Just then, a voice, slightly hesitant yet filled with obvious shock and disbelief, rang out behind her like a thunderclap:

"you......"

Takikawa's chewing motion froze instantly, as if the blood in his body had completely solidified and flowed backward at that moment.

As if under the most vicious petrification spell, she remained in the position of holding a pickled radish, sauce still on the corner of her mouth, and turned her head extremely slowly, stiffly, with an apocalyptic despair.

Yuji Ito stood a few steps away, holding his phone in his hand.

Eyes facing each other.

The air was deathly still. Even the falling petals seemed to freeze in mid-air.

The pickled radish, soaked in sauce, fell with a "plop" onto the grass at her feet, leaving a small, dark brown stain on the emerald green blades, much like her shattered dignity at that moment.

The world collapsed completely at that moment.