“Hey, guess what? Today’s horoscope ranked Aquarius as number one.”

In a stylishly renovated three-bedroom apartment, custom-fitted for work, I was sitting beside a beautiful girl with long, straight black hair—Kasamura Kage—on a couch in a room cluttered with recording equipment, bookshelves, and a computer desk. 

“Specifically, it said something about a sudden closeness with someone you like.”

Kage’s birthday is February 19th, which makes her a Pisces. My birthday, on the other hand, is January 28th, making me an Aquarius. You see where this is going, right? It was so typical of Kage to check my horoscope instead of her own.

“If this horoscope is right, wouldn’t that mean ++I’m++ the girl you like, since I’m sitting right next to you?”

“I think that might be a bit of a stretch,” I replied, earning a sharp, dissatisfied look from her narrow, cat-like eyes.

“Hmm… a stretch, huh? You could at least lie and say that you like me. Every girl wants to hear ‘I like you’ from the guy she likes.”

Her blazer shifted as she slouched, her blouse and tie rippling slightly. Careful not to upset her mood further, I changed the subject, focusing my gaze on Kage’s hand. 

“By the way, what’s with the voice recorder? What are you planning to use it for?”

“Oh, that? Well, you know, I thought I’d record some ecch—uh, I mean, some precious moments to use as daily motivation.”

Wait—did she almost say something else just now?

“Don’t worry, I won’t use it for anything weird. All you have to do is say, ‘I like you.’ I’ll listen to it for daily motivation. That much should be part of the job, right?”

“Uh… sure?”

I mean, if it was part of the job, I couldn’t really say no, could I?

Clearing my throat, I spoke into the voice recorder, “I like you, Kage.”

“Hehe, not bad. Your feelings reached me.”

I tried to push the uneasy feeling aside as I watched Kage replay the recording over and over. It was slightly—no, ++very++—unsettling.

“That’s hilarious. You totally got trapped, Kei-han.”

“Trapped? Isn’t that part of the job?”

“For a job, you sure spoke ‘I like you’ pretty passionately.”

The only person who called me “Kei-han” was Ono Tsukasa, aka Tsu-chan. She had been calling me that since the day we met.

She was a Gyaru beauty sitting at the end of the sofa, working on a drawing tablet. Her bright gold hair was pulled back, her blue eyes enhanced by colored contacts, and her nails sparkled with glitter. She had heart-shaped earrings, and her school uniform hung off her shoulders, the skirt so short it boldly exposed her flawless legs. She had an edgy style, but after spending time with her, I had grown used to her quirks.

“Well, I put some feeling into it. It ++is++ my job, after all.”

“Sure, but you’re ++terrible++ at covering it up, aren’t you? You’ve been sneaking peeks at my skirt this whole time. You can’t even hide where your eyes are going.”

That’s unfair. I may have looked once, but I didn’t keep looking. Besides, these days, it’s scary how society always blames the guy.

In times like this, the best approach is not to get caught up in her pace and just play it off.

“When you see fresh ++yatsuhashi++ sweets lined up at a souvenir shop, you can’t help but look, right? Same thing.”

“As if! Don’t compare my ++sexy++ panties to ++yatsuhashi++!”

“Haha. But if you turn a yatsuhashi upside down, it kind of looks like a string panty, doesn’t it?”

“I-It ++doesn’t++! And you don’t have to comment on what I’m wearing!”

I thought they looked similar, though. Maybe it was just because I was from Kyoto.

“Anyway, why are you even wearing sexy panties, Tsu-chan?”

“W-well, it’s only natural for a gyaru to wear cute panties, just in case…”

“Just in case what? …Well, I can kind of guess.”

“N-no! It’s not that I want to do something with Kei-han or anything! It’s just… you know… to be prepared… ++mumble mumble++…”

Tsu-chan’s ears turned bright red—maybe she was a tomato in a previous life.

“Ugh, seriously! Can’t you understand a girl’s feelings, Kei-han?”

“Well, I get that shortening your skirt like that is a way to show off your sexy panties.”

“That makes me sound like some kind of ++slut++ who just wants to show off her panties!”

“Isn’t that the case?”

“It ++isn’t++! The point is that I want ++you++ to see them!”

…So she ++was++ doing it on purpose. Well, I kind of knew that.

“I’m not doing it for vulgar reasons like Tsukasa, but I’m wearing them too.”

An unexpected confession came from an unexpected person. A studious-looking girl wearing blue-light-blocking glasses—Daigo Sakurako, aka Sakura—glanced up from her thick encyclopedia and said,

“It’s necessary to be prepared if I want to take the next step with you, Kei-kun.”

With her cherry blossom-colored short bob and graceful demeanor, she looked like a noble lady who grew up in a sheltered home. Her blouse was buttoned all the way up, and her tie was tucked into a light pink sweater and blazer. Her slightly slanted, double-lidded eyes, visible behind her glasses, always carried a calm intelligence.

“But that doesn’t mean that I approve of Tsukasa’s approach. She should show a little more restraint. So don’t worry, Kei-kun. I’ll respect your pace.”

“Um, yeah. Thanks.”

Still, restraint was something Sakura’s figure certainly lacked in one regard—her chest. Two melon-sized curves, filled with all possible nutrients, were pushing her uniform to the brink of bursting, and it was as if they were still growing.

I wondered if I should pity Tsu-chan’s flat chest or praise Sakura’s bountiful figure as a miracle. But I liked both.

“Kei-kun, are you looking at my chest?”

“Sorry, I was just mesmerized.”

I bowed my head sincerely. Breasts are really magnificent.

Sakura looked at me and smiled gracefully.

“You don’t have to apologize. If you want to stare, go ahead.”

“N-no, Sakura. A girl shouldn’t say such things.”

“There’s a world of difference between a woman who just wants to show off her chest and a girl who wants to attract the one she likes. I’m the latter.”

“I-I see. I understand.”

Her conviction almost overwhelmed me. Then, out of nowhere—

“Haak!”

Kage blew a warm breath on me with a playful “fuu~.” What a mischievous prank.

“Hehe, cute reaction. So, you really do prefer bigger ones?”

“Pl-please stop that ‘fuu’ thing. And I don’t particularly care about size.”

When I said that firmly, Kage clung to my arm like a koala hugging a eucalyptus tree, grinning. Her soft curves pressed against my elbow, making me quite uncomfortable.

“My breast wants you to touch it, you know. It wants to grow bigger.”

++Please, have mercy.++

Normally, my brain would keep me from saying something dumb, but her whispery voice and puppy-dog eyes were hypnotic. I almost asked, ++Do breasts really get bigger if you touch them?++

Dangerous. It was hard to believe that this seemingly angelic girl was actually the person behind “Otoha Tenshi,” the rising star of the Vtuber world. Her fans wouldn’t believe it.

By the way, Tsu-chan and Sakura were equally impressive. Tsu-chan was a top-tier illustrator with over 300,000 followers on social media, and Sakura was the author of the light novel series ++Night Cherry Blossom Killing++, which had sold over 500,000 copies.

And then there was me, Kyousaka Kei, being tossed around by these three talented beauties.

…I’ll just say that I’m a normal high school boy with no special talent.

I tried to summarize everyone’s background, but…

“Ta-da! So, what are you two getting cozy about?”

“Don’t butt in. Could you not interrupt my time with Kei?”

“Kei-kun’s official wife hasn’t been decided yet. From now on, it’s my turn.”

“E-everyone… It’s cramped in here, so please stand back for a moment. Ah! Don’t touch strange places!”

However, this unrealistic scene wasn’t fully explained.

On a sofa meant for four, with a boy and three girls. Kage on my left, Sakura on my right, and Tsu-chan hugging me from behind. Surrounded in a triangle by these beautiful girls, I couldn’t help but mumble,

“Um, what exactly is this?”

“””The duty of a kept man,””” the three of them replied in unison.

++Sigh.++ The reason I accepted any unreasonable request they made was that I was ++special++ to them, and this was ++work++.

If I told people that I had a part-time job where I got to flirt with beautiful girls for 5,000 yen an hour, I was sure the men of the world would be envious and weep tears of blood.

Yes. My “chores” included fulfilling my employers’ desires, or rather, satisfying them. A man who was financially supported by women and, in return, simply stayed by their side, took care of their daily needs, or kept them happy…

In general society, such a man was called a “kept man.”

Yes, I was a kept man. But not just any kept man. I was a kept man, supported by the school’s top three beauties.

Now for a review:

How did I, Kei Kyosaka—a male high school student living life on hard mode—end up in such a relationship with girls who are considered the unattainable flowers of the academy?

Let’s take a look back at how it all started.

It all started about a month ago—

!next

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