Chapter 25

Chapter 25: 025, Breaking News! Is Kanako Higuchi Secretly in Love with a Mystery Man?!

Lunch was settled at a small roadside restaurant.

After finishing a satisfying meal,

“It’s been so long since I ate at an authentic student-district shop like this. I really miss it,” said Kanako Higuchi. She had been discovered by a talent scout in 1978 and debuted soon after, rarely returning to student areas to eat.

“Right? Things that once felt ordinary start to feel nostalgic after you haven’t had them for a while,” Naoki Nagayama said. “Back home I used to eat my mother’s bento every day. After coming to Tokyo I didn’t have it for a whole year. When I went back during New Year, I almost ate until I burst.”

“Coming to Tokyo alone to work must have been very hard,” Kanako Higuchi said. “You must have felt lonely sometimes.”

“Not at all.”

“Huh?”

“When I first arrived in Tokyo, I was a huge fan of Momoe Yamaguchi. I listened to her songs every day, so I never felt lonely.”

What else could Naoki say? The previous owner of this body had already passed on, and he himself had only been here for half a year.

“Aren’t you a fan of Seiko Matsuda?” Kanako asked in surprise. “Didn’t you even write a hit song for her?”

“Well, it couldn’t be helped. Momoe-sama retired.”

“So you moved on that quickly?” Kanako teased. “I didn’t expect you to be so fickle, Naoki-san.”

Wasn’t this the second time someone had called him fickle?

“Not really. My heart just felt empty, and Seiko-san happened to move in at the right moment.” It seemed the image of being Seiko Matsuda’s devoted fan would follow him forever.

While chatting, the two arrived near the warehouse Naoki had purchased.

“Kanako-san, I bought some land nearby and it’s currently under renovation. Would you like to take a look?”

“Here?” Kanako looked surprised. Land in this area was expensive.

“Yes, it’s a warehouse.”

He led her down a side street. After only a few dozen meters, the construction site surrounded by covering sheets came into view.

The warehouse doors had been removed, the clutter cleared out, and the ground excavated several dozen centimeters to rebuild the foundation. Workers were laying pipelines.

Architect Takashi Honma was directing the workers.

“Honma-san, how’s the progress?”

“The pipeline installation is underway. Once that’s finished, interior decoration can begin. The schedule hasn’t been delayed. Completion is still expected in April.”

After looking around, Naoki couldn’t find any issues.

“I’ll leave the rest to you, Honma-san.”

In Japan, an architect’s reputation was everything. If the work wasn’t done properly, their professional standing would suffer.

“I will complete it carefully,” Honma replied.

Naoki returned to Kanako, who was observing the entrance curiously.

“Kanako-san, sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s go.”

“It’s fine. What surprises me more is that you bought land here.”

“Thanks to Seiko Matsuda-san. That song became a big hit.”

“What are you turning this place into?”

“A disco.”

“A disco? Like a nightclub or dance hall?”

“Something similar. It’s a style imported from America, focused more on singing and dancing.”

“That sounds interesting. I’ll definitely come visit once it’s finished.”

“Of course. Free entry for you,” Naoki laughed.

The two continued chatting as they walked back toward the student district.

Shinnosuke Matsuzawa was a junior field reporter for a small entertainment magazine — essentially a paparazzo.

Having entered the industry only recently, he had no insider sources. The only way to obtain explosive news was simple: stakeouts.

That weekend he waited near Takadanobaba, hoping luck would bring him a story.

After an entire morning, he had only seen ordinary students living ordinary lives. Was he really going to write an article about “A Weekend in Takadanobaba”?

“Maybe I should stake out TV stations or agencies instead. More competition, but more news too.”

At that moment, he noticed an attractive man and woman walking together while chatting and laughing. He instinctively pressed the shutter several times.

They didn’t look like celebrities, though. What famous person walked around without a mask or sunglasses?

Laughing at himself, Matsuzawa prepared to move to the TV stations.

Unexpectedly, near a broadcasting station he ran into a senior colleague and was scolded.

“We’re already covering this area. If you’ve got nothing to do, go back to the office and organize the photos everyone took these past few days.”

Although paparazzi teams conserved film carefully, many useless photos still accumulated. Someone had to sort them.

That job usually fell to newcomers.

Back at the office, Matsuzawa developed the photos he had taken that day, then began organizing older prints left in the darkroom.

After finishing, his own photos were ready. He cleaned the darkroom before leaving and began reviewing each image one by one.

Most were useless — but sometimes valuable shots slipped through.

Another rookie from the same intake, Shinnosuke Otsuki, returned to the office.

“Shinnosuke-san, you’re back already. Did you get anything?”

“Nothing at all. I ran into seniors on stakeout and got sent back to sort photos. What about you?”

“Same here. Rookies don’t get big scoops.”

He walked over and started looking through the photos together.

“Wait… isn’t this Kanako Higuchi?” Otsuki suddenly pointed excitedly at one picture.

“Who?”

“The actress who won the Golden Arrow Award Rookie Prize!”

“Huh? A celebrity?!”

“Shinnosuke-san, you really did it. This is good material.”

Looking at the photo of the pair, Otsuki said, “Kanako Higuchi is secretly in love with a mysterious man.”

“The male lead looks familiar too. He doesn’t seem like an outsider. If you dig deeper, your article might make the main feature section.”

Matsuzawa became excited.

“Even if I have to stay awake day and night, I’ll identify that man!”

Early Monday morning, the public relations department of Burning Agency received a call from a small magazine informing them they planned to publish a romance rumor about one of their actors.

PR director Etsuro Kikuchi knew of Kanako Higuchi. She had just won a rookie award. For an actress, such rumors weren’t particularly serious — she wasn’t a top idol.

Still, he summoned her assigned assistant, Marin Koyanagi, to confirm the situation.

“So it was just work-related communication?”

“Yes. They met for the first time during a collaboration. Because they weren’t familiar with each other, the work didn’t go smoothly, so they had a meal together over the weekend to improve coordination.”

Koyanagi remained completely calm. Everything she said was true.

“In that case, no special PR response is needed. A moderate rumor can actually increase Kanako Higuchi’s visibility.”

“Yes.”

In reality, an actress like Kanako Higuchi didn’t yet have a distinctive public image. Without strong backing, many rookie-award winners quickly faded away.

But maintaining a certain level of public attention reduced the risk of sudden decline. She was the type of performer who depended heavily on resources and exposure.

In her previous life trajectory, Kanako Higuchi only rose to fame after a controversial, bold project, after which she remained active in the entertainment industry for years.