My Girlfriend is an Evil Woman

Although Fukuzawa Naotaka tended to be cryptic in his words, Kitahara Hideji could sense his goodwill. The long scar in the middle of Fukuzawa Naotaka’s chest and abdomen was probably his deepest pain, a constant reminder for himself. This was a clear expression of sincerity.

It seemed that Fukuzawa Naotaka genuinely saw him as a junior. Kitahara Hideji wondered if Fukuzawa Naotaka would still act this way if he knew that he was a fake Japanese boy. But regardless, Fukuzawa Naotaka was fulfilling the responsibilities of an elder, something Kitahara Hideji had also felt recently. He often looked at Yoko with a kind and tolerant gaze, imparting life lessons and experiences, even though Yoko, being just over ten years old, probably didn’t fully understand. Kitahara Hideji would still say these things involuntarily.

He simply hoped for a better future for Yoko, just as Fukuzawa Naotaka likely did. Moreover, Fukuzawa Naotaka’s words made sense. He wasn’t against the use of violence but pointed out a principle similar to an old saying: a gun possesses the greatest deterrent power before it’s fired.

He opposed the abuse of violence, not just referring to the fight with the thugs yesterday, which had been necessary and he understood that. Instead, he was concerned that Kitahara Hideji, in his youth, had tasted the sweetness of violence and might veer off the right path.

Kitahara Hideji considered himself a reasonably rational and composed person, and he didn’t think he would easily become arrogant. However, feeling Fukuzawa Naotaka’s genuine concern, he thought that reading these books wouldn’t hurt. He nodded and thanked him, “Thank you very much for your valuable advice, Fukuzawa-san. I will read these books carefully.”

In his spare time, he could flip through them. It wouldn’t be a waste of Fukuzawa Naotaka’s goodwill.

Fukuzawa Naotaka smiled with satisfaction. The more he saw of Kitahara Hideji, the more he admired him. He was responsible, talented, and had a good temperament. While he cherished his five adopted daughters, he couldn’t deny that Kitahara Hideji, on his own, was more likable than all five of them put together.

If Akitaro could grow up to be like Kitahara Hideji in the future, Fukuzawa Naotaka would have no regrets.

He pointed towards the library and said, “You are welcome to read any books that interest you here, Kitahara-kun, but please refrain from taking any books from these three rows.”

Kitahara Hideji looked in the direction indicated by Fukuzawa Naotaka but didn’t see anything special. He couldn’t help but ask, “What are these three rows for…?”

Could they be a family’s secret techniques?
“These are from Fuyumi’s mother,” Fukuzawa Naotaka said, looking at the three rows of bookshelves with a nostalgic expression.

Kitahara Hideji understood. These books were mementos of Fukuzawa Naotaka’s late wife. While he could read them here, he was cautious about taking them away, and he quickly replied, “I understand, Fukuzawa-san.”

“Besides these three rows, Kitahara-kun, feel free to take any other books if you’re interested. There’s no one else at home interested in these anyway,” Fukuzawa Naotaka added, a bit resigned. His eldest daughter used to be into manga but had since focused on her studies, showing no interest in these books. The second daughter was even worse, feeling overwhelmed when she tried to read them. The third daughter followed her elder sister’s footsteps, only touching textbooks. The fourth and fifth daughters were restless and couldn’t sit still, let alone read books. As for his youngest son, he couldn’t even read yet. Fukuzawa Naotaka concluded, “Well, Kitahara-kun, you can come over whenever you have time. It doesn’t matter whether I’m here or not.”

After saying that, he patted Kitahara Hideji’s shoulder and left him with the room full of books. Kitahara Hideji suspected that Fukuzawa Naotaka was either going to continue drinking or prepare a meal.

Standing there, Kitahara Hideji looked at the books in his hands, then at the door behind him. He found Fukuzawa Naotaka quite intriguing. Could it be that he had remarkable foresight and had high hopes for Kitahara Hideji’s future, making an early investment?

He chuckled at his own random thoughts and then surveyed the library. The bookshelves were neatly organized.

Given Japan’s humidity, the library was well-prepared against moisture and mold. Between the bookshelves, there were activated carbon bamboo tubes for moisture absorption, and in the corners of the shelves, some had camphor balls, while others had handmade tea bags. The anti-insect measures were also well-implemented. Kitahara Hideji guessed that the tea bags were probably made by Fuyumi’s mother since Fukuzawa Naotaka likely lacked the skill. Later, he simply resorted to using camphor balls.

Seeing so many books with no one around but himself, Kitahara Hideji felt a bit restless. He started examining the bookshelves one by one, searching for skill books. He had been wanting to acquire some low-level skills to improve his attributes but hadn’t found a good opportunity. Today seemed like an unexpected stroke of luck.

As he perused the shelves, he realized that, apart from the three rows Fukuzawa Naotaka had mentioned, Fuyumi’s mother had been quite the literary enthusiast. Her collection mainly consisted of novels, essays, books on self-improvement, and some on music, art appreciation, along with materials on traditional culture from both China and Japan.
While these books could greatly enhance personal cultural literacy, they didn’t have immediate utility for Kitahara Hideji. He turned his head to examine the bookshelves Fukuzawa Naotaka had collected. It wasn’t a massive library, perhaps just a few thousand books, but for a household, it was quite impressive.

Despite the somewhat rundown appearance of the Fukuzawa Family, they seemed to have some depth.

Fukuzawa Naotaka’s collection was quite eclectic, indicating that he collected books without a specific goal, simply going with his whims. Kitahara Hideji perused the spines of the books as he walked along, hesitating before pulling out a book titled “Introduction to Home Appliance Repair.” He opened it and waited patiently, but his disappointing mobile game didn’t respond, probably not understanding what home appliances were.

Kitahara Hideji didn’t mind since he had no intention of becoming a repairman. He continued browsing the shelves one by one. He noticed that Fukuzawa Naotaka had spent a considerable amount of time abroad, evident from the numerous foreign language books, suggesting he had traveled extensively in East Asia. This worked to Kitahara Hideji’s advantage as he could learn skills that suited his needs. After all, these miscellaneous skills would likely only reach an Initial Rank of 5 at most, and he was primarily interested in gaining a few attribute points.

“Would you like to learn the skill of Malay?”

“Learn!”

“Would you like to integrate ‘Eight Techniques of Massage’ into the ‘Medical Skill’?”

“Integrate!” He believed that skill integration was a better choice. If he didn’t integrate them, it would be more cumbersome to level up each skill separately. Moreover, having too many skills could dilute their effectiveness, and the unfortunate mobile game wouldn’t allow a player to boost their attributes to an overpowered level.

“Would you like to learn the skill of Thai?”

“Learn!”

“Would you like to merge ‘Huaiyang Cuisine’ and ‘Family-style Cooking’ into the ‘Cooking Skill’?”

“Merge!”

“Would you like to learn the skill of fishing?”

“Lea…”

…………

Kitahara Hideji wasn’t very picky. He didn’t care whether these skills were useful or not, or if there were conditions to learn them. He decided to learn and integrate over fifty books in one go. After scanning two and a half bookshelves, he felt a wave of nausea coming over him. The fake mobile game was fine, but his head couldn’t handle it. The influx of information had turned his mind into a chaotic mess, and he felt like the ceiling was spinning. He was on the verge of vomiting.

He had been a bit too greedy. His daily Energy Value was limited, and learning these skills would require time to level up. He could have taken it slowly, but he had acted impulsively.

Kitahara Hideji realized that perhaps he lacked some self-discipline in certain aspects. It might indeed be necessary to work on his character and virtues in the future. However, at the moment, he felt a tightness in his chest and a need for fresh air. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting anyone to see him in this sorry state, and decided to make his way toward the window.

To his surprise, the library’s windows were sealed with tape to prevent moisture, serving solely for letting in light. Fortunately, there was an air exchanger with moisture control nearby, and he rushed over to take a few deep breaths, which helped alleviate his discomfort.

He sat down beside the air exchanger, cross-legged, to take a break. As he looked beyond the exchanger, he noticed a suit of armor standing there. He grew curious and moved closer to inspect it. It was a very well-maintained “Tōsei Gusoku.”

Kitahara Hideji didn’t know much about armor, having only read some rudimentary information in Sword Technique books. But even so, he could tell that this set of armor wasn’t just for show. There were marks of combat on the helmet, and a pair of short fangs (which might have been tiger teeth or ox horns) on the front plate had been partially chopped off. The cuirass and the shoulder hanging armor were missing several plates, and one gauntlet was cut off halfway.

Clearly, someone had worn this armor in numerous battles many years ago.

Kitahara Hideji examined it for a while and began to suspect that Fukuzawa Family’s ancestors might have been low-ranking samurai. This suit of armor was unpolished and lacked ornamentation, consisting mainly of leather, rattan, and a minimal amount of metal. It was designed for lightweight practical combat and was quite different from the ornate armor of higher-ranking samurai. What was more, this was infantry armor, indicating that Fukuzawa Family’s ancestors probably didn’t even have the privilege of riding horses; they were likely foot soldiers who followed behind mounted warriors, often eating their dust.

Beside the armor, there was a four-layered paulownia wood stand with various blades of different lengths. Fukuzawa Naotaka probably placed them here due to the low humidity in this room, ensuring their long-term preservation.

Kitahara Hideji hesitated for a moment but decided that Fukuzawa Naotaka probably wouldn’t mind if he took a look. He gently picked up the topmost katana from the stand, pressing his thumb against the blade to lift it out. As he gazed at the glistening blade, he was momentarily entranced. This was the first time in both of his lifetimes that he held a genuine instrument of death, and the passive skill, “Sword Mastery,” naturally activated, giving the katana a faint but chilling aura.

He sat with the katana for a while and found a slight urge deep within him to test the blade, to see what it could cut. Perhaps this was what they meant by “having a sword in hand stirs the killing intent”?

He sighed and was about to sheathe the katana when he heard a faint click of the library door, followed by the sound of incredibly light footsteps. Someone had entered the room quietly.

Kitahara Hideji quickly sheathed the katana and softly asked, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me!” came Yukari’s voice from amidst the bookshelves. Then, like a large, mischievous tanuki, she tiptoed her way over. With an innocent and cute demeanor, she softly said, “I came in to check, thinking you weren’t here!”

As she spoke, she glanced at Kitahara Hideji, but her expression suddenly turned awed, and she didn’t dare to approach. She knelt down at a distance, observing cautiously.