Midori stared at Toshihiko’s face intently. She was a dependable work friend, but she could get a little overbearing sometimes. And she was only like that with Toshihiko. He suspected his physical beauty was to blame. It was clear Midori had been harboring some kind of affection for him for a while. Toshihiko had used that to his advantage before, so he didn’t have much right to complain about it now.
“Honest, I’m fine. If something does go wrong, you’ll be the first one to know about it.”
He finished with a crooked, rakish smile. The severity in Midori’s gaze seemed to melt away in a flash.
After he was allowed to go on his way, Toshihiko heaved a sigh. He was so tired of all this. Tired of having to rely on his appearance to get what he wanted. Tired of women who were rendered putty in his hands from a simple smile. Actually, that wasn’t fair. Gender had nothing to do with it. It wasn’t just women; this happened with everyone.
His looks allowed him to worm his way around anyone in a one-on-one conversation. If only that woman would actually talk to him in person, he could probably set everything right just like he had with Midori. Then again, his appearance was likely what had caused this problem in the first place.
Toshihiko had a stalker. He’d noticed about a month ago. His rare beauty had always drawn gazes of admiration from the young and old, men and women. But this was different from the usual passing glances he got on the street. It was a persistent gaze, one that felt like it was practically clinging to him. When he’d looked around, there was nobody there. It had been a little unsettling, but it was hardly the first time he’d been the target of such attention. He’d gone home, taken a shower, and thought no more about it.
From that day on, however, Toshihiko began feeling the strange gaze on him more often, as if someone was out there waiting for him to notice them. It was one thing for it to happen with other people around, but feeling those eyes on him when he was alone after work really started to get to him. He’d hurry along the street, worried that someone might step out and stab him. Even at home, he’d feel terrible the whole rest of the evening. That was just how much the mysterious gaze was taking its toll on him.
Naturally, it wasn’t just the fact that he was being watched that was so frightening. Things were escalating—Toshihiko had started getting letters. There was never any postmark on them, so his stalker must have dropped them directly in his mailbox.
You wore your gray pinstripe suit today. It looks so lovely against your porcelain skin.
The note was printed, not handwritten. It could have come from anyone, but instinctively, Toshihiko knew it was the work of the person who was stalking him. He wasn’t sure how to put it into words, but the persistent, clingy aura that seemed to emanate from the page was a perfect match for the gaze. A second one came the next day.
Why didn’t you send a reply? When a lady says something nice about you, it’s only polite to pay her a compliment in return. You must know that. Why haven’t you said anything nice about me? Do you think I’m so hopeless that there’s nothing about me worth praising? I’m starting to worry…
Toshihiko was surprised at the sudden shift to a more familiar tone, but he ignored that letter as well. While the whole thing was still creepy and more than a little unnerving, he didn’t feel any animosity in the words themselves. It probably wasn’t worth making a fuss over.
Looking back on it now, though, he wished he hadn’t been so naive.
Enough is enough. What are you so mad about? Is it because I’m wearing your ring? You’re the one who said you wanted something as tangible proof of our marriage.
The envelope for that letter had also contained a picture frame decorated with Sanrio characters. Inside it was a photo of Toshihiko. He wasn’t facing the camera, and he had no idea when it might have been taken. It had grimy brown smears all around it. The cartoony characters had a speech bubble coming out of them saying TOGETHER FOREVER! He started to feel queasy.
This wasn’t the first time a strange woman (or man) had developed a delusional attachment to him. His obsessives usually fell into two categories—people who were clearly weird right from the get-go, and people who slowly got weirder over time. This woman fell into the first category since she had escalated things so quickly. And from that point on, the crazy factor in the letters from his deranged admirer only became more intense.
I made your favorite gratin dish for you today. The secret ingredient is a little miso in the béchamel sauce! Did you figure that out? Did you notice the difference?
I watched you answer a student’s question today. You seemed pretty happy about it. Why, though? You don’t usually look like that…
Mirei Nakamura is a cutie, isn’t she? But she’s just a child. Cheating is one thing, but if you start messing around with minors, I’m definitely asking for a divorce.
Would you even care if we did get divorced?
If you divorce me, I’ll kill that brat and your hag of a mother, too!
I’m sorry, I went too far. Please don’t hate me. Consider it a sign of just how deeply I love you. It’s not anything worth hating me for, is it?
Toshihiko never replied to any of the letters. In spite of that, they kept coming, continuing this strange one-sided conversation. While they varied in intensity, the sole point that stayed consistent was that the writer believed Toshihiko to be her husband.
You’re a gorgeous man, but you need to be more responsible. Oh, I’m just kidding. Not completely, though. We’re married now, but you’re never at home. That’s not normal— anybody can see that. Please come home soon. If you stay away much longer, I don’t know what I’ll do.