I Thought I Could Get a Happy Ending with the Marshmallow Spirit, but Ten Years Later I Became a Player

My childhood friend and future arranged-marriage partner is a cotton candy spirit who doesn't look very sincere when he smiles.

He's fifteen, a versatile genius with a really handsome face.

I'm fifteen, a nobody who's good for nothing but my looks.

Things didn't work out between us in the end.

He was violently crushed by an old-school Italian mafia family and became a prisoner. His allied families fell with him, and my parents, finally realizing what was going on, rushed me off to their branch in Japan to lie low.

Just as I was getting bored and trying to think of something, anything, to pass the time, a whole crowd of people showed up claiming to have memories from ten years in the future. They all insisted they were my future boyfriend.

I looked at the Port Mafia's diamond dust / the Vongola Rainbow Team / the booze factory's watered-down fake liquor / the Homra NEETs / and fell into deep thought.

I get it, really.

But couldn't my future boyfriend be someone who isn't mixed up in that sort of thing?

...Hey, you cotton candy spirit over there! You can't fool me just by setting up a shell company!!!

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