Prologue
“Want to be friends with ?”
My heart raced like crazy under the intense gaze of the top-tier beauty, who scanned from head to toe with a soft hmm.
The fleeting emotion reflected in her eyes as she looked at was almost contempt.
I was certain she was thinking sothing like, “Hmpf, who do you think you are?” But that was fine.
Why? Because she’s a beauty.
Cuteness is justice, and beauty is a get-out-of-jail-free card.
Whenever I looked at her, I felt an unexplainable surge of compassion rising within .
After a mont’s hesitation, she said to with a playful expression:
“Alright. Let’s do it, friends.”
“By the way, I completely forgot to bring a dessert today.”
“I think those special macarons sold at the store would be just perfect…”
“You can buy those, right?”
“Well, that’s true, because we are.”
“[Friends]!”
Just so you know, I’m not a pushover.
I was fully aware that this lady was only calling a friend in na and actually intended to use as her snack courier.
Is there any reason for to buy her those expensive macarons just because she calls friends?
At that mont, I was more rational than ever.
Even Sherlock Hols, the epito of rational thought, wouldn’t asure up to my current state of mind.
As a result of this cold, objective, and rational thinking—
I beca her friend.
No matter how I think about it, this is a major win.
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