Under Hashimoto Maya's stiff, faintly terrified gaze, the woman he had firmly believed to be "Uzo" looked over with an even more wary expression.
Then, before Hashimoto Maya could speak, she coldly asked, "Are you that vile scriptwriter?"
Hashimoto Maya: "You..." How could you steal my line?!
After speaking, Torimaru Naoko got a clear look at Hashimoto Maya's face and expression. A flicker of disappointment passed through her eyes, yet she also felt an instinctive sense of relief. "It isn't you," she declared.
She had thought that person would appear in the car so she could meet him. But now it seemed... she had indeed been overthinking things.
Then again, why did this guy called Hashimoto Maya look like that? His expression was so complicated that even she couldn't decipher it at a glance.
But from the looks of it, Hashimoto Maya clearly had a great deal to do with "that person," so she changed her question. "Are you that person's subordinate?"
It had been an ordinary question, yet Hashimoto Maya jolted and nearly jumped up to cover her mouth. "Don't talk nonsense!"
...What if Uzo heard and actually got ideas!
Who would want to be that demon's subordinate? One look was enough to tell that such a person wouldn't live long. Besides, he was Mr. Irish's subordinate. If those words reached Irish's ears and Mr. Irish thought he had betrayed him, that would be trouble too.
Yet Torimaru Naoko was only half-convinced. "If it wasn't you, why did he tell me to get in your car? And you even opened the door to welcome me..."
Under Hashimoto Maya's increasingly horrified gaze, Torimaru Naoko belatedly remembered something: Hashimoto Maya had indeed opened the door on his own, but he hadn't looked like he was welcoming a passenger. He had looked