Let's get to the point.
Yūma ran through the plot of this hentai in his head.
Ryouka and Ayumu were childhood friends. Ryouka, captain of the Shirakawa High School Karate Club, was ridiculously strong. This whole conflict had started because she embarrassed the blond guy's school at the last national competition. No wonder he came looking for her.
And because of this, Ryouka would later end up dating the university student with glasses, Aihara Yamato.
If you thought this was just some NTR story about Ayumu, think again.
Yamato was a scumbag.
The blond guy and Yamato were working together. Yamato had staged this entire "hero saves the beauty" scenario himself, just to get close to Ryouka, gain her trust, and then completely manipulate her.
Later, it would get even worse. Ryouka would be blindfolded, forced to serve the blond guy, while poor Ayumu was tied up, forced to watch through a live stream.
Yūma's scalp tingled. Standing on the wrong street at the wrong time, he had suspected transmigration—but he never imagined something this absurd.
Shit.
He had to figure something out.
Cold sweat ran down his back, goosebumps crawling across his pale skin.
This was the root of all evil. If he could act here, maybe he could sever Ryouka's connection to Yamato—and save the childhood friends.
He reminded himself again. He was a pure love warrior. Hardcore level.
The only reason he knew so much about NTR hentai was because he had studied it critically. He watched it to understand the enemy, not for anything else. Even so, he couldn't just run up and shout at Ryouka: "Don't trust him! They're working together!"
To her, Yamato—the guy who had just saved them—would have far more credibility than Yūma, a complete stranger. If he tried, he'd probably fail… or worse, end up beaten.
Direct action was out. He had to be subtle. Indirect. Smart.
"Well, if you're fine, I'll be going…"
On the other side, Yamato was already speaking. "…If you're still scared, I can walk you home."
"No need," Ryouka said, supporting Ayumu. She offered Yamato a calm, beautiful smile. "No need to trouble you, Aihara-san. My house isn't far from here."
"Haha, alright," Yamato said cheerfully. "Even though we just met, don't be so formal. Just call me by my name. I'm a few years older than you, so you can call me 'Yamato-nii.'"
Ryouka's face flushed slightly, but she parted her lips respectfully. "Yamato…"
The 'nii' hadn't even been said yet.
"Um…"
Another young man appeared from the far end of the street. Ryouka guessed he was about her age, a few years younger than Yamato. Tall, slender, with a build closer to Ayumu's than Yamato's, though taller than Ayumu. Pale face, thin dark circles under tired eyes. Handsome in a delicate, idol-like way, but clearly nervous, awkward from watching the fight.
He didn't step forward to help, and Ryouka didn't blame him. Moral blackmail wouldn't work. He was frail; if he intervened, he'd get wrecked, and she'd have to care for another person. Thank god they had someone strong like Yamato this time.
It was Yūma.
"Andō-kun…?" Ayumu murmured softly, his voice uncertain.
Yūma didn't even hear him. He raised his hand like a student about to answer a question in class.
"Hmm?" Yamato's eyebrow twitched.
In Yamato's meticulous plan, this guy wasn't supposed to be here.