How to Become the Anime King

Content Warning

This chapter deals with sensitive topics including sexual harassment and abuse of power in a professional environment. While the narrative does not contain explicit descriptions, we advise sensitive readers or minors to proceed with caution.

If you or someone you know has been affected by such issues, please seek professional help and appropriate support.

Shinguu Akira noticed Shinguu Kanade had gone silent again. He shrugged. At this point, he had let go of the need to please or flatter her. It was better to just act naturally.

"Just change into that pair by the entrance."

Standing at the genkan, Akira pointed to a pair of slippers on the shoe rack and addressed Kanade.

The girl frowned slightly. The slippers were clearly for women. From what she knew, Akira lived alone here. Why would he have a pair of women's slippers? Could it be… for those call girls who visit men's homes?

That thought made her recoil. She didn't want to wear something she now considered dirty.

After a while with no movement, Akira noticed her hesitation. He looked at her, puzzled. But when he saw the furrow between her beautiful brows, he thought for a second and roughly guessed what she was thinking.

Shaking his head with a helpless smile, he said, "...Ritsuko-san came by a couple days ago. We talked about a few things. I prepared those slippers for her."

Hearing that, the tension in Kanade's body visibly eased. Her sense of revulsion faded naturally. She placed a hand on the wall for balance as she took off her uniform shoes, her petite feet clad in black sailor uniform socks stepping into the pink slippers. Then, she neatly arranged her leather shoes on the rack.

This girl was flawless when it came to etiquette, even in the tiniest details.

"Have a seat."

With a casual motion, Akira gestured toward the couch in the living room. Then he rummaged through a wooden cabinet, pulling out an empty vase. After filling it with water, he placed the bouquet of dahlias inside and set it on the otherwise empty table.

He had no experience with keeping flowers. He wasn't even sure if gifted flowers could survive in a vase. The truth was, he just didn't know where else to put them, so he found an empty one.

Kanade sat on the couch, testing the softness of the genuine leather beneath her. While the apartment itself was fairly plain, Akira had clearly splurged on anything related to comfort—a personal principle of his.

Watching him flit around, she curled up with her purse in the corner of the sofa, her distant posture giving off a fragile, delicate impression.

"Sorry, I've never kept flowers before. Took me a while to find the vase... Want something to drink?"

Kanade intended to refuse. But she licked her lips—they felt dry. Even with lip balm on, she hadn't had anything to drink all afternoon. After a brief pause, she replied coldly, "Just water."

Akira hadn't expected her to be friendly, either. Girls needed time to be won over—though he wasn't exactly good at that.

"Wait a sec."

He retrieved a bottle of mineral water and a bottle of milk from the fridge. Twisting the cap off the water, he handed it to her.

That small, thoughtful gesture chipped away at her guard. Sometimes, it was the little everyday things that could touch a girl's heart.

Akira sat across from her, drinking the milk as he watched Kanade take small, elegant sips of her water. Even doing something as simple as drinking, her grace and beauty added a special charm. Beautiful girls, no matter what they did, always looked pleasing to the eye.

Silence settled between them. Neither knew what to say.

Kanade didn't want to talk, and Akira, even after much thought, couldn't find the right words to open with.

Apologize directly? Even someone clueless about girls knew that would be pointless now—it would only invite her icy sarcasm. Akira did feel guilty, but not enough to enjoy being mocked.

Checking the time on his watch, he realized it was about dinner time. He quickly offered, "Hungry? I'll cook some noodles for you..."

Kanade's brow twitched. That phrase had a double meaning, but she wasn't dumb enough to misunderstand. Her gaze drifted across the room until it landed on a box of instant noodles in the corner.

"You usually eat that?"

She assumed by "noodles," he meant the instant kind. Surprise flickered across her face. If a regular shut-in ate cup noodles, that was no big deal. But this was Akira—the heir to the Shinguu family. He didn't seem the type to eat junk food. Even if he wanted to "experience the lives of the commoners," buying an entire box was a bit much.

She could tell that box had already been heavily used. And since no one else lived here, it had to be Akira who ate them.

"When I'm busy, yeah. But most of the time, I cook."

He opened the fridge for her to see. Inside were fresh vegetables and various cuts of meat wrapped in plastic wrap. The ingredients were clearly fresh—not the kind that had been sitting there forever.

"You can cook...?"

Kanade's words came out flat, more like a statement than a question. Her expression didn't change. Still, for a girl known for her sweet, smiling demeanor, keeping such a cold face for this long was clearly unnatural.

"Not as good as Her Highness the Princess, of course."

"Don't call me that."

A flash of anger crossed Kanade's face. The title "Her Highness the Princess" clearly struck a nerve.

It wasn't that she hated the title. But when Akira said it, it felt like he was treating her like a beautiful, high-class plaything—a premium, top-of-the-line sex doll.

"Alright, alright. Princess-sama then."

Akira grinned, clearly teasing her, as he began pulling ingredients from the fridge.

Kanade's face flushed red. Her small fists clenched tightly. But in the face of Akira's incorrigible attitude, all she could do was sigh in resignation.

"I'll cook. I'm not eating anything burnt tonight."

Setting her purse down on the couch, she stood up. Her voice was barbed, and her footsteps heavy in the slippers as she marched over and snatched the ingredients from his hands.

Akira shrugged, ignoring the tone of her voice. Having a girl—especially one this ridiculously beautiful—cook for you? You'd have to be an idiot to say no.

"The kitchen's over there. All the utensils and tools are ready to go!"

He led her to the kitchen. Watching her in her sailor uniform, arms full of vegetables and meat, her petite frame nearly swallowed by the ingredients, Akira glanced at his now-empty hands and felt a rare twinge of guilt.

Kanade looked around the kitchen. It was spotless. The tools and cookware weren't new—they'd clearly been used. So when Akira said he often cooked, he wasn't lying. The condiments were all lined up neatly, which pleased her.

"Go sit on the couch and wait."

Just like their first meeting, the girl urged him to rest while she cooked. But unlike that time—when she spoke sweetly, with a gentle smile—her voice now was cold, her face tense.

"Nope. I'm staying here to watch you."

Akira crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, clearly refusing to budge.

"…"

She stared at him for a long moment. Then, parting her red lips, she muttered coldly:

"Do as you like."