Chapter 21:Novel
"Beep—Time's up... Ugh."
In the home economics classroom, the curly-haired boy who had set down his whistle looked from the crooked, unevenly colored block in front of Yuihama to Yukinoshita's brightly hued, neatly cut piece that gave off a rich milky aroma. His expression said everything.
"Wait... this isn't what we agreed on...?"
Yukino Yukinoshita, having finished cooking, breathed a sigh of relief, gently wiped the fine beads of sweat from her forehead with her wrist, and presented the cookies she'd carefully made to Toru Narumi and Hachiman Hikigaya.
This was her true strength—though for some reason her cooking in the simulation had been shockingly poor, Yukino believed the dishes she made with everything she had would surely win over the judges.
Of course, with that confidence, she had no idea what Narumi was thinking—smiling on the outside while sweating on the inside.
"Yuihama's might be chocolate packaged as poop, but if Yukinoshita's is poop packaged as chocolate..." Today, he'd definitely be headed for the ICU.
"Oh, this looks delicious. Yuihama's is a bit clumsy... well, it just takes practice."
Hikigaya, standing to the side, didn't hold back his praise. He grabbed a chair and sat, ready to eat—Yukino's gaze turned to the curly-haired boy who looked embarrassingly awkward.
Narumi knew that look was silently urging him to try a cookie.
Big deal—he'd probably die if he ate one.
Narumi pretended ignorance and sat down to inspect both efforts, though in truth he hoped Hikigaya would be the guinea pig to test the poison first.
"Go, Piggy Bank... our lives depend on you!"
Hachiman felt the intense stare like a spotlight and hesitated, setting the cookie down again.
"Um... Does Narumi really want to eat this much? Well, it wouldn't hurt to let him have some first..."
Yukino, who had watched the two boys in silence, straightened, ready for Narumi's evaluation.
She'd known from her simulation experience there would be a cooking lesson today, so she'd practiced at home for two days—partly to redeem herself, and partly to leave a good impression on Narumi, though she'd never admit that.
Yukino folded her arms. Though her face stayed calm as she watched the boys eat, she rubbed her arms unconsciously, betraying a bit of anxiety.
"...Hmm."
After a long hesitation, Narumi finally grit his teeth and took a bite. He chewed slowly; his features smoothed into neutrality.
"It's good. Let's just open a shop, I say, Yukinoshita."
Hachiman, ever blunt, polished off Yukino's cookies fast, then turned to Yuihama's creations.
"I'm asking the two referees for my turn!"
The pink-haired girl, nervous, nodded seriously to Narumi and Hikigaya. Her eyes kept darting to the dead-eyed boy after all, he was the one she most wanted to give the cookies to.
Yukino simply nodded slightly at Hikigaya's praise to register her gratitude, then shifted her attention to Narumi, her fingers worrying at her shoulder.
What she cared about most was his opinion.
"...It really is delicious."
The curly-haired boy ate every cookie without flinching, giving an honest response.
"...!"
Ms. Yukinoshita raised an eyebrow, tamping down the joy that threatened to spill out.
"Thanks."
She said it plainly, the same way she'd thank anyone, but the way she kept glancing at the curly-haired boy made Yuihama blink.
If Yukino knew what Narumi was thinking she'd probably be speechless.
"Her cooking's incredible... The real Yukino Yukinoshita is not like the one in the simulation..."
It's not the same person—right?
Narumi Toru wasn't heartless; he wouldn't erase everything he'd lived through. But if the girl in front of him wasn't that Yukino—the one he'd run away with, he wouldn't pester someone who couldn't return his feelings.
Graceful detachment was one of his few strengths: if you can't have something, you should step away.
Still, it was too early to draw conclusions. Better to watch a while longer.
Right now, Narumi's bigger worry wasn't the messy web of feelings around the Yukinoshita sisters; it was how to collect the "rewards" after escaping the simulation.
He had spent so much energy in that future simulation; if the final rewards were garbage, it would be an awful waste of sunk costs.
It wasn't a workday, so Narumi, eager to go home, headed straight there after club activities.
Beneath the scorching sun he squeezed through a packed tram and finally collapsed into his cramped but safe rented room.
He opened his laptop, sat up straight, calmed himself, and made a new document while soothing music played in the background.
Then he typed the first letter of the prologue for his new novel.
From an outsider's point of view, Narumi Toru's impression of the glib, irresponsible novelist "Narumi Toru" in the simulation wasn't flattering.
The first character he'd simulated wasn't some domineering CEO, but a struggling, disillusioned novelist—hardly an inspiring template for success. That made Narumi nervous about his prospects.
"Besides, what kind of nonsense is this? Judges falling in love with lawyers and escaping from court together... People probably won't get it."
That doubt was why he'd been skeptical about the "weird novelist" reward attribute the system had granted after the simulation.
If his writing just mimicked the simulation, it wouldn't sell.
Yet the moment Narumi opened the Word document and pressed keys, all his worries vanished.
His scattered thoughts straightened into a single, clear line. He could effortlessly sketch the scene he wanted, following logic and imagination, and translate it into precise words.
Whether an ethereal scene or a subtle expression, he could capture it with concise strokes.
The typing flowed—smooth, seamless—an experience he'd never known.
"Is this what it feels like to write with divine inspiration?"
Ideas galloped like wild horses; lines and concepts sprouted like spring bamboo, drawing him in.
By the time he came down from that high, it was around 2:30 a.m.
His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten. He'd worked through the night with no food or drink; his body complained.
It was rare for Narumi to lose himself like that he'd never been this into doing his homework.
"Okay, I take it back. Maybe this reward is actually insane."
He stood, stretched until the stars cleared from his vision, and shuffled to the kitchen to cook a bowl of instant noodles to tide him over.
As the curly-haired boy sat enjoying his seafood noodles, he suddenly realized something missing around his neck—the whistle he should have taken to home economics class that day was gone.
"I think I whistled once when the cooking time was over... then I just put it on the table, and then I don't remember anything else."
Okay, then it would probably be taken by the staff who cleaned up or by the students who came for class.
Narumi Toru couldn't help worrying that his future old age might be accompanied by Alzheimer's.
Sixteen, feeling like sixty—that was probably the reality for kids these days. Actually, sixty-year-olds were probably healthier than him.
His worry lasted only a short while. After a few bites of instant noodles he threw himself back into writing and let it go—his ability to get emotional quickly and move on was one of his few strengths.
Pulled by an irrepressible creative urge, he wrote until the late hours.
Fortunately, the next day was Saturday, and he could immerse himself without worry. By the time he saved and closed the document, dawn had already started to pale the sky.
Even as drowsiness crept in, Narumi forced himself awake to proofread the short story one last time, making several backups.
After those final steps, Narumi collapsed onto his bed and drifted off.
Narumi fell asleep almost instantly, but for some reason, the Mr. Dreamkeeper who appeared in his dream didn't take the form of some elderly sage. Instead, he looked like a clean, handsome young man far too youthful to match the name, yet strangely fitting in the hazy atmosphere of a dream.
"Oh my, it's clear you've put in a lot of effort. Although it's still far from your full potential, this is already quite impressive for a fledgling work."
The young man's gentle smile carried a faint sense of familiarity. Narumi tried to place it, but the dreamlike blur softened the edges of recognition.
"But what do you plan to do after writing it? Don't you want others to read your work? Are you satisfied with just taking it out occasionally to appreciate it alone?"
Mr. Dreamkeeper stroked a beard that wasn't there, looking every bit like a sly fox pretending to be a wise sage. Even so, his tone carried an odd persuasive weight that made Narumi listen despite his confusion.
"I recall you once sent your manuscript to an editorial department, didn't you? They turned it down because they didn't see its value. Even without the bonus of a keyword ability, that draft of yours was still a rough gem. After all, all 'rewards' come from what you've already given yourself. Nothing falls from the sky for free."
Narumi watched, bewildered, as the young man explained with a seriousness that contradicted his playful expressions. Although he looked unreliable, there was something compelling about him something that made Narumi want to believe every word.
"If I were you, I'd post that story on an online forum first—see what others think, get some feedback. And if inspiration strikes later, you can enter writing competitions on the big sites. Ah... well, I suppose there's no need to say 'if', is there?"
Mr. Dreamkeeper, who had been speaking freely, suddenly stopped. His smile widened as he met Narumi's gaze.
The hazy blur of the dream peeled away.
Narumi finally saw his face clearly.
And it was—his own.
"After all, 'I' am 'you'."
"—!"
Narumi jerked awake.
His eyes shot open to the familiar ceiling of his tiny room. The electronic clock beside the bed read 11:30 a.m. He had only fallen asleep in the early morning, and he had slept straight through until now.
Great. Now he was so excited he was dreaming of himself cosplaying as Mr. Dreamkeeper.
It was the first time he'd had a dream this bizarre. He rubbed his temples, still dizzy, but the content of the dream stayed vivid.
Aside from the uncanny shock of seeing a face identical to his own, the man's suggestions weren't unreasonable at all.
After a long moment of consideration, Narumi finally opened the free online novel forum he often browsed. He clicked "New Thread" and posted the short story he had written.
A story about a boy and a girl separated by life and death.
A girl lingering as a ghost beside the boy she loved.
A boy who couldn't see her, weighed down by grief he couldn't shake.
A story about eternal separation and unspoken love.
The boy and girl, childhood friends and inseparable companions, had grown up together. But just when their relationship was about to deepen, the girl rejected his trembling confession.
"As expected... it still doesn't work."
The girl had smiled, rejecting him softly.
"You should forget about me and find someone better suited for you."
Even after those words, the boy continued living his days as always going to school, going home, eating meals, stopping by the arcade they used to visit.
"That guy hasn't given up on you at all. This is really getting worrying—time's almost up."
When someone complained like that to the girl, she would only smile softly.
"It's fine. He just needs time."
The girl silently accompanied the silent boy through everything: the predictable school commute, the dull and lifeless club activities, the stressful days of exam preparation.
And finally, the first anniversary of her accidental death.
Holding flowers, the boy stood before her tombstone, head lowered, speaking his heart to the portrait engraved there. But he never realized the girl had been behind him all along, watching, never leaving.
"Honestly... you're the kind of guy who makes me worry so much. That's why I can't go anywhere."
Her voice, of course, no longer reached the boy crying before her grave.
"Forget me quickly... and find someone who can make you smile again."
This was the general outline of the short story Narumi had posted.
[Childhood Sweethearts' Great Victory: Hey, I thought you were just joking... but you actually wrote it?]
In rr14's chat, the Ruger-man didn't even try to hide his disbelief.
[I want to eat your ahoge: Posted it this noon. Check it if you want.]
Replying lazily while AFK in the main city, Narumi switched to the forum homepage and refreshed the page again and again.
The numbers rose slowly but steadily, only a few hundred views by afternoon, a handful of comments.
Still, for a first-time post, this wasn't bad at all. Getting eyes on your work was the hardest step.
[Childhood Sweethearts' Great Victory: I'm reading, I'm reading. Don't rush me.]
End of chapter.