I was Thrown into an Unfamiliar Manga

In the end, Kishimoto devoured two full bowls of rice with just the cheonggukjang in one sitting and even enjoyed the scorched rice tea my mother brought out to finish.

“Young lady, it’s really nice to see someone eat so heartily.”
“Hehe! Thank you!”
Not leaving a single grain behind, Kishimoto downed the sungnyung (a traditional Korean scorched rice tea) in one shot, then stood up and said to me,

“Well then, Kim-kun, let’s go.”
“…Go where?”
“You said you’d let me see your room.”

Just then, Mom, who’d been listening to our exchange from the side, covered her mouth with her hand and let out a gasp.
“Oh my, oh my, are you two already at that stage?”
“We are not.”

I shot down her attempt to pair us up with the precision of a blade and stood up.
Kishimoto quickly followed suit with a soft clatter of her chair.
“Let’s go.”

“Yup! Goodbye!”
“Okay! Come eat with us again!”
I hurried out of the restaurant before Mom could get any more embarrassing.

***
Our house was a renovated old wooden house—first floor was the restaurant, second floor was the living space.
Exiting through the front of the restaurant and climbing the external metal staircase led to the door of our living quarters.

Click—
“Excuse me!”
With both my parents out, Kishimoto’s voice echoed through the empty house.
I took off my shoes at the entryway and walked straight to my room, which was on the right side of the hallway.

Following me in, Kishimoto let out a series of exclamations at the sight of the room.
“Wow! So this is what a boy’s room looks like!”
She curiously looked over the exercise equipment scattered throughout.

Most days I worked out at the gym near our place, so the setup here was just for light warm-ups—a basic assortment.
Because the room was small, I’d removed the bed and instead placed dumbbells, a barbell, and an adjustable bench in that space.
Looking intrigued, she stared down at one of the square dumbbells standing on its side.

“This one weighs 50kg? The dumbbell’s heavier than I am.”
“Wanna try lifting it?”
Kishimoto, piqued by curiosity, said, “Should I?” and tried lifting it with both hands.

“Nrghhh!”
But the dumbbell didn’t budge.
Panting and red-faced, she backed off and snapped at me in frustration.

“Is this even made for humans?!”
Without a word, I lifted the dumbbell in front of her with one hand.
Kishimoto looked back and forth between me and the dumbbell in disbelief, then—perhaps out of stubbornness—sat down on the bench.

“I wanna try that bench press thing I saw on TV!”
“With how much weight?”
“Hm? Since it’s my first time… like, 10kg?”

Hearing that, I crossed my arms and shook my head.
“Sorry, but bench press doesn’t have a 10kg setting.”
She tilted her head.

“Huh? But isn’t lifting the empty bar basically 0kg?”
I immediately corrected this common rookie misunderstanding.
“Bench press starts at 20kg minimum. The empty bar alone is 20kg.”

“Oh. Then I’ll use the empty bar.”
I removed all the weight plates and placed only the bar on the rack as she requested.
“How do I position myself?”

For her sake, I explained it as simply as possible.
“Think of it like arching your back into a bow. You’re making an arch with your spine.”
“…Like this?”

She followed my instructions surprisingly well.
“Spread your arms [N O V E L I G H T] beyond your shoulders, extend them perpendicular to your chest. Good. Now take a deep breath and—lift!”
“Hup!”

“Now lower your arms, but don’t force it. Bend only to the point it naturally moves. Yeah, like that—tap your sternum, then push it back up.”
“Nghhh!”
Clunk!

“How was that?!”
Kishimoto, having re-racked the 20kg barbell, looked at me with a proud expression.
Like a puppy asking for praise.

I nodded and gave her a thumbs-up.
“For a first time, you did great.”
“Yay! I got praised!”

Grinning ear to ear, Kishimoto Rika seemed genuinely pleased. Watching her, I felt like all my effort teaching her had paid off.
“Should we increase the weight—”
“Ah! It’s been so long since I exercised—it’s exhausting! Let’s take a break!”

Cutting me off in a hurry, she plopped herself onto the chair next to my desk.
Though slightly disappointed, I asked her as she fanned herself like she was overheated,
“Want something to drink? I’ve got barley tea and orange juice in the fridge.”

“Ooh, I’ll take barley tea—with ice!”
Taking her order, I headed to the kitchen.
Opening the fridge, I found a chilled bottle of barley tea inside.

I poured two glasses, dropped in some ice cubes from the freezer, and brought them back on a tray.
When I returned, Kishimoto was reading one of the manga volumes on my bookshelf.
I set the tray down and said,

“Just so you know, I don’t discriminate by genre.”
Holding a volume of a romantic comedy with a fair bit of fanservice, Kishimoto flashed a catlike grin.
“For someone who doesn’t discriminate, your shelf sure has a lot of romcoms.”

“……”
It was all for preparing for the future.
Romcoms are unpredictable. To anticipate the developments, you need a wide breadth of reference.

But of course, Kishimoto didn’t know that.
Showing me a page with a service scene from the manga, she grinned slyly like a cat and teased,
“You act all aloof, but turns out Kim-kun’s a total closet perv.”

Even if I had ten mouths, I couldn’t talk my way out of it.
Romcoms, by nature, are the culmination of boys’ dreams and fantasies.
In magazine serialization, scenes get censored with mysterious lights, but in the volume release, it comes out uncensored. Classic marketing.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I said it was all a misunderstanding, would you?”
She smiled brightly and nodded.
“No, I’ll believe you. I know you just genuinely like shounen manga.”

And with that, she revealed something unexpected.
“Actually, I love manga too. Especially shounen stuff.”
“Shounen manga?”

It was a surprisingly modest hobby, given her flashy gyaru appearance.
“Oh, I bet you’re thinking it doesn’t suit me, huh?”
“No.”

“Liar! When Kim-kun lies, your right eyebrow twitches.”
I reflexively touched my brow—then realized I’d been baited.
I had no choice but to admit it.

“…You’re right.”
“Heehee, I’ll let you off this time. Honestly, even my friends back home gave me weird looks when I told them.”
Still grinning, Kishimoto folded her hands over her lap.

“Did I ever tell you? What my dad does for work?”
I shook my head.
Now that I thought about it, I’d shared all sorts of trivial things with her, but I hadn’t heard anything about her family.

She paused for a beat, then spoke.
“My dad’s actually a manga artist. A pretty successful one too.”
That explained her love for shounen manga.

If her dad was a mangaka, she’d have grown up with manga all around her.
“It’s kind of an unusual hobby for a high school girl these days, right? I never really had anyone to talk to about it. But then I noticed you liked Jump too.”
She shrank back slightly, as if embarrassed, then looked up at me with her green eyes.

“If it’s okay with you… would you keep being friends with me from now on?”
I froze, unsure how to respond to her incredibly cautious request.
If I said yes here, wouldn’t that completely derail the original plot?

That thought naturally crossed my mind.
What should I do?
Originally, I hadn’t wanted to interfere with Scramble Love.

Because I thought doing so would destroy my peaceful high school life.
But… for the sake of that, was it really okay to trample on the courage of the girl right in front of me?
To run away instead of facing the future—just because I was afraid of what hadn’t even happened yet.

Wouldn’t that be too cowardly?
……
After much deliberation, I made up my mind.

“Kishimoto.”
As I softly said her name, she flinched slightly, waiting nervously for my answer.
Clink—

I picked up the glass of barley tea from the tray and held it out to her.
“You don’t usually bring someone into your home unless they’re more than just a friend.”

She carefully took the glass with both hands.
Looking her straight in the eye, I said,
“You’ve been my friend from the very beginning.”

Only then did Kishimoto’s face brighten like a sunflower in full bloom.
“Thank you.”