mijobooks Chapter 180 Matsu Takako's Spying, Rie's Sense of Smell
Chapter 180 Matsu Takako's Spying, Rie's Sense of Smell
Chapter 180 Matsu Takako's Spying, Rie's Sense of Smell
At seven o'clock in the morning, a thin layer of mist still shrouded the seaside of Hayama Town.
Kitahara Shin was frying eggs in the kitchen.
Although he has moved into this mansion, he hasn't had time to hire a maid yet. Fortunately, he doesn't have high demands for the quality of life; a cup of freshly ground coffee and two slices of perfectly toasted bread are all he needs to start the day.
"Ding-dong"
Doorbell rang.
Kitahara Shin was somewhat surprised. Who would come at this time?
He wiped his hands, walked over, and opened the door.
A young girl was standing outside the door.
Matsu Takako was wearing a beige wool cardigan and holding an exquisite lacquerware food box. When she saw Kitahara Shin wearing an apron, her cheeks flushed slightly, and her eyes darted away, completely lacking the aura of a "righteous policewoman" she had on set yesterday.
Good morning, Kitahara-san.
"Good morning." Kitahara Shin was somewhat surprised. "So early?"
"Well—I thought that since we've become neighbors, I should give him a visit."
Matsu Takako pushed the food box forward, her voice a little tense: "This is chestnut yokan made by my mother. It's not too sweet, so it goes perfectly with tea. It's just a small token of my appreciation, I hope you won't find it offensive."
Kitahara Shin looked at her.
The young woman's fingers gripped the edge of the food box tightly, her knuckles turning slightly white. Clearly, for this young lady from a prestigious family, taking the initiative to knock on the door of her single male boss was an act that required immense courage.
"Thanks."
Kitahara Shin turned to the side, revealing a gentle smile: "Come in and have a seat. I'm making breakfast right now, and although it's not as good as your mother's, the coffee is still drinkable."
""
"Oh? No, no!"
Matsu Takako quickly waved her hands, shaking her head vigorously: "I just came to deliver something, I'll be leaving right away. You're so busy, I won't bother you any longer—"
"Songsang".
Kitahara Shin interrupted her, his tone becoming more casual: "You don't need to be so formal here. Although I'm the president at the company, we're at home now, just neighbors. Besides—"
He chuckled, pointed to his dark blue apron, and held a spatula smeared with egg wash in his hand, his tone slightly teasing: "What? Do I look like the stern, unapproachable boss I was in the rehearsal room yesterday?"
Matsu Takako subconsciously looked up.
At this moment, Kitahara Shin was wearing gray cotton loungewear. His hair wasn't combed neatly as usual, but rather hung casually over his forehead, making him look less sharp and more youthful. The morning sunlight streamed through the frosted glass of the entryway, bathing him in its glow, and the aroma of fried eggs and coffee filled the air.
It certainly doesn't look like it.
The "devil producer" who was all-powerful in the rehearsal room yesterday, who was so strict and unforgiving towards popular seniors Rie Miyazawa and Nanako Matsushima that no one dared to breathe seemed to have disappeared.
The man in front of me was warm, easygoing, and even had a friendly, approachable vibe, like the boy next door.
The stark contrast between her work and private life left Matsu Takako momentarily stunned, and her heart skipped a beat.
"Well... sorry to bother you."
She hesitated for a moment, then took off her shoes and came in.
The living room is large, decorated in a simple yet luxurious style, with huge floor-to-ceiling windows facing the shimmering sea.
Matsu Takako sat on a soft leather sofa with her hands on her knees, her posture as upright as a primary school student being interviewed.
"Here you go, it's freshly ground."
Kitahara Shin brought over a steaming cup of coffee, and also cut up the chestnut yokan she had brought, plated it, and pushed it in front of her.
"Thank you, President—" Matsu Takako quickly bowed.
"At the company, we call him president, but we don't need to here."
Kitahara Shin sat down on the single sofa opposite her, picked up a piece of yokan (sweet bean jelly), took a bite, and nodded approvingly: "It tastes good, not too sweet, with a faint chestnut aroma. Please thank your mother for me."
Seeing his relaxed demeanor, Matsu Takako felt a slight relief from her tension, but she still dared not completely relax. After all, the psychological trauma left by yesterday's "hellish training" was still too great.
"Um—" she said somewhat awkwardly, holding her coffee cup, "Actually, you don't need to go out of your way to entertain me. I'm just here to deliver something and will be leaving soon. I know you're usually very busy, and you still have to prepare for the computer to start up—"
"Songsang".
Kitahara Shin put down his fork, not following her lead, but looking into her eyes, his tone gentle yet serious: "Why are you so nervous? Are you afraid I'll suddenly pull out a script and test your lines?"
"Huh? No, no—" Matsu Takako waved her hands in a panic.
Listen.
Kitahara Shin leaned back slightly, shifting to a more comfortable position: "Although in name, I'm the president and you're a contracted artist, in my view, this is just a contractual relationship. Under this roof, we're neighbors; in the future film crew, we're equal partners."
"I keep my work and personal life very separate. I can be very strict at work because I'm responsible for the work. But in private, I don't want my employees to see me like mice see a cat."
He spoke these words calmly and composedly. There was no deliberate preaching, only the tolerance and insight unique to a mature man.
"Relax when you need to. If you keep tense up like this, your spirit will collapse before you even start working on it."
.
Matsu Takako stared at him blankly.
Equality. Cooperation. Clear distinction between public and private interests.
These words, spoken by a twenty-seven-year-old man, carried a maturity beyond his years.
Is this... Kitahara Shin?
On set, he's a ruthless dictator; at home, a gentle gentleman. He handles each aspect so perfectly, flawlessly.
Matsu Takako took a sip of coffee, the bitterness followed by a sweet aftertaste.
Looking at the man in front of her who was smiling as he ate yokan (sweet bean jelly), she suddenly felt a strange, indescribable feeling.
so perfect.
It's as perfect as a meticulously crafted mask.
Which one is the real him: the one playing the sad harmonica by the sea last night, or the composed president he is now?
Or is all of this just a disguise for him to survive in this complex circle?
"I understand, Mr. Kitahara."
Matsu Takako put down her cup, her previously tense shoulders slowly relaxing, but the probing look in her eyes deepened.
"It's getting late."
She stood up, straightened her skirt, and said, "I should go back now. Thank you for the coffee."
Take care.
Kitahara Shin did not try to stop her, but politely got up and saw her to the door.
Just then.
"Takako?"
A gentle voice came from the neighboring courtyard.
Matsu Takako's body stiffened.
In the courtyard of the neighboring villa, a middle-aged woman dressed in a kimono, exuding elegance, stood by the flowerbed, looking at them in surprise.
It was her mother, Noriko Fujima.
"Mother?!"
Matsu Takako blushed instantly, like a child caught doing something wrong.
"It really is Ryuko."
Noriko Fujima approached, her gaze falling on Shin Kitahara standing in the doorway. She paused slightly, then her eyes brightened, and she gave a polite smile: "This—could this be Mr. Kitahara?"
"Nice to meet you, madam."
Kitahara Shin bowed slightly, performing a standard junior's greeting. "I'm Kitahara Shin, I just moved in. Please take care of me from now on."
""
"Oh my, it really is you."
Noriko Fujima's smile softened even more. "My husband mentioned yesterday that you also own property here. I never imagined it would be right next door. I hope Takako hasn't caused you any trouble?"
"No, Song-san is very thoughtful. She even brought some snacks over."
"That's good."
Fujima Noriko glanced at Kitahara Shin, then at her daughter's flustered appearance, and with a quick thought, extended a warm invitation: "Mr. Kitahara, you've just moved in, so your place must be a bit messy yet. If you don't mind, why don't you come and sit at my humble abode? My husband was just saying yesterday that he wanted to have a chat with you."
"This—" Kitahara Shinji was about to politely decline.
"Come on, come on," Fujima Noriko said, not giving him a chance to refuse. "The morning tea is just ready. Besides, it's the weekend, so you shouldn't be going to the film set, right?"
Since things have come to this point...
As a junior, it would be rude to refuse. Besides, she is Matsumoto Koshiro's wife; I must give her face.
"Then I'll have to bother you."
Kitahara Shin took off his apron and winked at Matsu Takako, his eyes seeming to say: See, it's not that I don't want to leave.
Matsu Takako could only sigh helplessly.
The Matsumoto family's villa is a typical Japanese style, with pine trees and camellias planted in the courtyard, exuding a rustic and elegant charm.
In the tea room.
Matsumoto Koshiro (who had by then taken the name of the Ninth Matsumoto Koshiro) was sitting in the main seat, dressed casually. Upon seeing Kitahara Shin enter, this titan of the Kabuki world put down his newspaper and laughed heartily: "Hahaha, Kitahara-kun! Welcome, welcome! I never imagined we'd become neighbors."
"Matsumoto-sensei, excuse me."
Kitahara Shin bowed respectfully.
Facing this highly respected figure in the Japanese traditional performing arts world, he toned down his usual sharpness and behaved humbly and appropriately.
"Sit down and try this tea. It's new tea that just arrived from Shizuoka."
Matsumoto Koshiro personally poured him a cup of tea.
The two exchanged a few pleasantries.
They chatted about everything from the house's decor to which sushi restaurant in the area was good, and then about the seaside climate. The atmosphere was as harmonious as that of two friends of different ages.
"Speaking of which—"
Matsumoto Koshiro took a sip of tea and steered the conversation to the main topic: "I was drinking with Itami Juzo the other day, and he raved about you. He said you're one of the few young people in recent years who truly understands theater. And director Nakae, who directed 'Under One Roof,' also spoke highly of you."
"6
"You flatter me, seniors."
Kitahara Shin lowered his head slightly. "I was just doing my best. Compared to your achievements, I'm still far behind."
Don't be modest.
Matsumoto Koshiro waved his hand, looking at the composed young man with even greater admiration in his eyes: "To win the Best Actor award at this age and to manage your agency so well, it's not just luck. Most young people these days are too impetuous; there aren't many like you who can remain calm and collected."
At this point, Matsumoto Koshiro's tone became slightly more serious: "However, Kitahara-kun, there are some things I need to remind you of."
"Speaking."
"Regarding that movie star—I heard some old guys have a lot of opinions about you."
Although Matsumoto Koshiro is from the traditional entertainment industry, he has extensive connections and is well-informed: "They feel you broke the rules by not paying your respects." While they had to give you the award this time due to public opinion, they might make things difficult for you in future film releases or resources.
This is what is known as a "soft ban".
They won't give you a friendly welcome, won't schedule screenings for you, and won't give you good availability.
This is fatal for someone who wants to have a long-term career in this industry.
However, Kitahara Shin simply smiled.
"I know."
He picked up his teacup, gently blew away the foam, and said calmly, "But Matsumoto-sensei, I believe one thing—no one would turn down money."
"As long as my work can make money and audiences will buy into it, those so-called rules will eventually be broken. And—"
He raised his head, his eyes radiating a powerful confidence: "How can we establish a new order if we don't break the old rules?"
Matsumoto Koshiro was taken aback.
He then burst into laughter, the sound so loud that the paper door of the tea room trembled slightly.
"Excellent! What a brilliant idea to establish a new order!"
He slapped his thigh. "I love your wild side! No wonder Longzi always calls you a tyrant when she gets home." Looks like he really has the confidence.
Sitting quietly adding tea to her cup, Matsu Takako's hand trembled, and she almost spilled the water.
"Dad! I never called him a tyrant!"
"Haha, it's alright, it's alright." Matsumoto Koshiro was in high spirits and turned to Kitahara Shin, saying, "Kitahara-kun, since you have this ambition, then go for it. Although we in the Kabuki world have our own rules, I hate those old fogies who bully newcomers because of their seniority. If you need any help in the future, just ask."
This can be considered a promise.
A promise from the head of Goryeo House.
"Thank you, teacher." Kitahara Shin said solemnly.
After finishing discussing business, the atmosphere relaxed again.
"So what's next? What are your plans after winning Best Actor?" Matsumoto Koshiro asked.
"Let's make 'Flowers of Evil' well first."
Kitahara Shin said, "I want to prove that TV dramas are not just for entertainment, but can also have depth and even provoke social thought."
"As for the future—"
He glanced at the sea outside the window: "I want to make the agency a place that truly respects creators. Whether you're an actor, screenwriter, or director, as long as you have talent, you can find your place here. Instead of being bound by various factions and unspoken rules like we are now."
Matsumoto Koshiro listened and nodded repeatedly.
He glanced at his daughter sitting beside him, who was listening intently, and suddenly said, half-jokingly, "If only Longzi had met a young man like you sooner. Too bad, I've heard you have quite a few female admirers?"
"dad!!"
Matsu Takako's face instantly turned bright red, and she glared at her father with shame and indignation.
In 1993, Takako Matsu was only 16 years old, an age when she was just beginning to experience romantic feelings but was also extremely sensitive. Hearing her father's words, which sounded like an attempt to force a marriage, she wished she could disappear into a crack in the ground.
Kitahara Shinya was a little embarrassed and could only chuckle awkwardly, pretending not to understand: "Matsu-san is very talented. Although 'Flower of Evil' is very challenging this time, I believe she can do a good job."
"Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing you guys."
Seeing his daughter's state, Matsumoto Koshiro knew to stop.
Around noon, Kitahara Shin got up to say goodbye.
Matsu Takako saw him out.
The two walked on the stone-paved path, and the sea breeze brought a touch of coolness.
"that----"
As she reached the door, Matsu Takako stopped, her back to Kitahara Shin, and said softly, "Last night—I heard that harmonica."
Kitahara Shin stopped in his tracks.
You look—you seem very sad.
-
Matsu Takako turned around, raised her head, and looked directly at him with her clear eyes, as if trying to see through his disguise: "Is it because you're too tired in this industry? Or is it because—you have no one to talk to?"
Kitahara Shin was slightly taken aback.
Looking into the girl's earnest and inquisitive eyes, he suddenly understood.
Is this little girl imagining some kind of "lonely strongman" scenario?
He couldn't help but laugh.
"Songsang".
Kitahara Shin looked at her, his tone softening slightly: "Actually, you're overthinking it."
The reason it's played so sadly is because—
He pointed to his head: "I'm rehearsing my role."
"You've read the script for the male protagonist in 'The Flowers of Evil,' right? He's a man struggling in the darkness. To find that feeling, I had to immerse myself in it."
That's all.
"Why?!"
Matsu Takako was stunned.
Rehearsing a role?
Just for acting?
That heartbreakingly sad melody, that utterly lonely figure—was it all for work?!
"boom"
Matsu Takako felt her cheeks burning.
It turns out I had just imagined a whole drama! I even foolishly went to bring them snacks to comfort them! Turns out they were just diligently studying their role!
That's so embarrassing!!
"So that's how it is—"
Matsu Takako lowered her head, her voice barely audible, as if she wanted to bury her head in her chest.
"Yes, that's it."
Kitahara Shin, suppressing a laugh as he looked at her, said, "However, the fact that you misunderstood means my rehearsal was a success. Thank you for your feedback, Matsu-san."
"----You're welcome.
""
Matsu Takako gritted her teeth and forced out those words, then abruptly raised her head and bowed quickly: "Then I won't see you off! Take care!"
After he finished speaking, there was a "bang".
The door was slammed shut.
Kitahara Shin stood outside the door, touched his nose, and looked at the tightly closed door.
"It's so good to be young."
He sighed and turned to walk towards his villa.
Although she was misunderstood, it must be said that sixteen-year-old Matsu Takako had an awkward yet energetic demeanor—
They are indeed quite cute.
10:00 AM.
Kitahara Shin drove back to his office in Roppongi.
He stopped in his tracks as soon as he pushed open the door to the rehearsal room.
There were no sounds of laughter or playfulness inside, only suppressed whispers. Rie Miyazawa and Nanako Matsushima had arrived long ago, and the two were sitting face to face, staring into each other's eyes, trying to convey "killing intent" and "despair" through their gazes without saying a word.
They didn't slack off just because the boss wasn't there.
"good."
Kitahara Shin nodded, went inside, and placed the two exquisite bento boxes he was carrying on the table: "Starting so early? Take a break first. These are some leftovers from making breakfast at home, so I brought them for you."
"Wow! The teacher made this by hand?!"
Nanako Matsushima, like a puppy waiting to be fed, instantly lost her composure, her eyes sparkling as she leaned closer. She opened the box and saw the golden-brown tamagoyaki and perfectly fried sausages inside. Without hesitation, she picked up a piece and popped it into her mouth, her face beaming with happiness: "Delicious! So delicious! Teacher, you can even cook! Is there anything you can't do?"
"Just eat yours."
Kitahara Shin chuckled, then glanced at Miyazawa Rie, who was a beat slower than usual: "What? Afraid I'll poison you?"
Rie Miyazawa took the bento box, but didn't rush to start eating.
She narrowed her beautiful peach blossom eyes slightly, scrutinizing Kitahara Shin from head to toe as if examining a criminal. She even leaned closer, her nostrils twitching slightly.
"What's wrong?"
Kitahara Shin was a little confused by her gaze, and subconsciously sniffed his cuffs: "Is there a problem? Or is it not tasty?"
"—It's nothing."
Rie Miyazawa withdrew her gaze, gave a soft hum, and said in a somewhat meaningful tone, "I just feel that—the president seems to be in an exceptionally good mood today."
"baffling."
Kitahara Shin shook his head, not thinking much of it. After giving a few instructions on the key points of the afternoon rehearsal, he turned and left the rehearsal room.
The door had just closed.
Rie Miyazawa's smile vanished instantly. She took a bite of her thick omelet, then suddenly turned to Nanako, who was eating like a hamster: "Nanako, can you smell it?"
"Hmm?"
Nanako, her cheeks puffed out, looked up blankly: "What do you smell? This tamagoyaki smells so good, it has a faint sweetness—"
"That's not it."
Rie Miyazawa poked at the sausage in her bento box with her chopsticks, her eyes turning somewhat resentful and wary: "It's his smell."
"Besides the sea flavor, there's also a very faint scent of thread. It's a scent that only young girls from prestigious families or those who frequent shrines have."
"Young girl?"
39
Nanako blinked her innocent big eyes, completely unable to follow Rie's train of thought.
She thought to herself: What's wrong with Rie? Why is she acting like a wife catching her husband cheating? The teacher is usually so busy, how could she have time to meet any young girls? And this scent of incense—maybe the teacher went to the temple to pray for blessings?
Seeing Nanako's silly expression, Rie Miyazawa sighed with disappointment.
This girl doesn't even know she's been sold out.
The woman's intuition told her that the "territory" that originally belonged only to them was about to be invaded by a new competitor.
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