This review covers Chapter 20 of Volume 5 through Chapter 33 of the manga. Fumi is, without exaggeration, a deeply flawed and frustrating character. The story arc begins with his repeated encounters with Kiritani, a model and actress who initially helps him out. These chance meetings eventually lead to a friendship, especially after Fumi discovers that her public persona is just a façade. Their bond deepens following an incident where Fumi helps Kiritani after she’s knocked over while grocery shopping. He escorts her home and meets her father, and from then on, casual visits and conversations at their house become routine. But things take a turn whenKiritani develops romantic feelings for him and makes them clear.
Given the professional boundaries between staff and talent—especially in entertainment—Fumi chooses to ignore her feelings. When she finally confronts him, asking whether his connection to her and her father was genuine or just pity, he admits he simply “wanted to be a hero to someone.” That confession reveals his actions were more about self-gratification than empathy. He wouldn’t have involved himself if their situation hadn’t seemed so tragic.

Kiritani understandably storms off. Later that same day, a celebrity who had snapped a photo of her in disguise posts it online, sparking a scandal. Panicked, Kiritani calls Fumi for help. He initially reassures her he’s coming, but then hesitates—worried about how the media frenzy might affect his private life and family. While that concern is valid, what sets him apart is his complete abandonment: he ghosts her during her most vulnerable moment and never answers her calls again.

That was the final blow. Kiritani realizes she was never a priority—not as a person, not even as a professional under his agency. She blocks his number and cuts ties. Days later, Fumi tries to reach out, but she doesn’t respond. He gives up, never offering a real apology or explanation, because deep down, he knows he never saw her as anything more than a project.
Eventually, he quits his job, haunted by the harassment Kiritani endured—though ironically, it’s her trauma, not his. Fast forward three years, and Fumi is now managing a 13-year-old actress. Despite the time gap, he remains unchanged: emotionally detached, still referring to his talent as “just business,” and still failing to recognize their humanity. Even when he does show glimpses of empathy, he often reverts to his default indifference.

Fumi’s character is a masterclass in selfishness and emotional cowardice. He consistently avoids accountability, ignores situations that demand moral clarity, and never confronts the damage he’s caused. His trauma stems from his own incompetence, yet he never seeks closure or offers it to those he’s hurt—especially Kiritani, who deserved far more than silence.

While this arc doesn’t derail the entire story, it’s a critical piece for me. I believe a narrative’s strength lies in its characters—their relationships, their growth, and the emotional truths they reveal. And in that regard, Fumi’s failure to evolve leaves a bitter taste.