Yet, the wager wasn't fully executed.
Merely stripping bare wasn't enough; the dogeza remained.
Shiroi Shiori had to prostrate herself before Kuroba Akira, surrendering completely, naked as the day she was born.
Perhaps this was even harder for her than simply removing her clothes.
And reality indeed matched this thought.
Shiroi Shiori desperately wished she could quickly kneel, just so she could dress again—at least then the humiliation would lessen somewhat.
But her knees were frozen stiff, unable to bend no matter what she tried.
She bent forward, desperately hitting her thighs, gritting her teeth, trying to make her body obey—but her legs wouldn't listen.
Why...?
I've already stripped naked… so why can't I do the dogeza...?
Could it be that, deep down, she still hadn't truly surrendered?
She had never realized she was so stubborn…
This is humiliating...!
Ashamed of her own stubbornness, Shiroi Shiori lifted her head, about to tell Kuroba Akira she needed just a bit more time—that she would definitely fulfill their agreement.
But at that moment, she heard Akira's voice from above her head.
"You know, Shiroi-san, for an author who pours their heart into writing, creating itself is a form of exposing one's inner self. So, really, anyone who loves writing novels is an exhibitionist."
It was actually a rather outrageous statement.
Someone like Kuroba Akira wasn't purely a creator—he prioritized what "readers wanted" rather than what "he himself wanted to write."
But this remark was perfect for Shiroi Shiori.
Precisely because she was desperate to reveal her true self, that self had "betrayed" her at this very moment, refusing to concede defeat.
"You want to display your bare heart to others, craving their acknowledgment, craving their praise… But the more you chase that, the more your creation strays from its essence."
Shiori listened intently, her lips slowly parting in shock.
How…? How does he understand my feelings so well...?
It felt as though it wasn't just her body—her innermost thoughts had also been laid bare before him.
No, he didn't understand her personally—he understood authors.
Because he himself was an author.
One who had walked much farther along this road—a "senpai" far ahead of her.
"Creation itself is placing yourself and the readers on opposite ends of a balance scale. You have to keep that scale balanced. But your scale has tilted, Shiroi Shiori."
The balance had tilted…
Indeed, she had ignored the readers' feelings.
She had stubbornly pushed ahead, obsessed only with creating excellent work.
She had never truly considered whom this light novel was meant for…
Is that why I failed...?
As if answering her internal question, Akira continued speaking, recalling a particular novel.
"I once read a novel called Come Bare, Idiot! It's about a college student who meets a naked man at a hotpot restaurant. Thanks to that strange man, the protagonist regains his dream of writing novels…"
"I've never heard of a novel like that…"
Was this a novel he'd conceived himself?
Or was he just improvising something to comfort her…?
"Let me finish."
"…Okay."
"Anyway, with the strange man's help, the novel's protagonist meets the heroine—a popular female college-student author—and even becomes her disciple. But the ironic thing is, this heroine was the very person who almost made him give up writing, because she called his submitted manuscript completely worthless."
"..."
"She believed no amount of effort could help someone without talent."
Shiori felt that this statement was correct, but… it was also extremely cruel.
Because she knew perfectly well that she herself had no talent.
Precisely because she lacked the overflowing inspirations and clever insights of geniuses, she had to devour mountains of books to compensate, filling the gaps in her own lack of innate talent.
Kuroba Akira… he was the true genius author.
"That kind of thinking is ridiculous."
"Huh?"
"I'm not saying effort guarantees results. But creative work isn't so simple that talent alone guarantees success."
Akira looked down at his own right hand. If it weren't for the talent he'd copied, he himself was talentless.
"Because I'm not talented like you, Shiroi-san."
"…You!"
Saying you have no talent…?!
I'm the one without talent!
You've already beaten me, haven't you?!
You're not allowed to demean yourself!
If you do that, then wouldn't my loss to you be a joke?!
"I'm serious. I've spent most of my life consuming all sorts of stories, endlessly chasing after what's considered 'interesting.' Not just as food for thought, but as accumulated experience. That's the experience that let me beat you."
"You..."
So… he's actually like me?
"But honestly, I never really cared about winning or losing against you. I just wanted to make money from my novels, that's all."
"...!"
Shallow!
This was Shiori's first thought.
But… was he really shallow?
The one who didn't obsess about winning or losing had, in fact, won in the end… proving that his mindset was correct.
Was there anything wrong with writing novels for money?
No…
Making money meant popularity. Popularity meant many readers…
Only such a work could truly gain widespread recognition.
He's right.
"Creation isn't about victory or defeat. It's about survival."
"Whether a novel is good or bad is determined by the readers, and authors also rely on popularity to earn their living. A bestseller may seem to resonate with everyone, but in reality, very few people truly understand it."
"So… even finding one person who truly understands you is lucky enough. There's no need to demand universal understanding."
"Write for yourself—and also write for your readers."
"When you achieve that balance, you won't lose to me again."
Kuroba Akira finished speaking.
At that moment, Shiroi Shiori realized her knees had softened.
Ah...
Somehow… the pain wasn't so sharp anymore.
He'd spoken all this to let her understand clearly why she lost.
She hadn't lost to "genius." She wasn't inherently inferior to him.
She'd simply failed to care more deeply than he did about her readers.
In that light… her defeat was inevitable.
She wasn't nearly as mature as he was.
The moment Shiroi Shiori genuinely admitted her defeat, a refreshing sense of liberation filled her heart.
Something tightly binding her body unraveled.
It was her obsession.
The obsession to write something that could defeat him.
To write something even better than her award-winning work.
To write something that would astonish the publishers.
Something she had to write…
But creation held no absolutes.
Just as he said, whether a novel was good or not wasn't for her to decide—it was up to the readers.
She'd failed to genuinely win her readers' hearts; thus, she'd lost.
When she came to her senses, Shiroi Shiori realized she'd already dropped to her knees.
At this point, she simply leaned further forward, placing her palms flat on the floor in front of her, forehead touching the ground.
True, absolute submission.
"Kuroba-san… Kuroba Akira. This time, it's my loss."
She had finally achieved the naked dogeza.