There was still a lingering numbness on his tongue, and his limbs didn't quite move with their usual ease. After finally making it back from school, he arrived at the entrance of his apartment. Just as he reached into his bag for his key, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
The steady click-clack of heels echoed softly. As he opened his door, he was surprised to see Mari appear at the top of the stairs, her figure emerging into view.
"Good afternoon. Looks like I got here just in time," she said with a gentle smile, her eyes meeting his.
"A little something came up, so I got home later than usual. Still, what a coincidence—we bumped into each other just as I opened the door. Do you always get off work around this time?"
He casually opened the door and stepped inside, glancing back to invite her in.
"Come in."
"Thanks. Sorry to intrude."
Mari walked from the stairs to the door and entered his apartment at his invitation. As he closed the door behind her, he set his schoolbag down beside the desk and turned on the kettle.
"This is for last night," Mari said, taking out a small envelope from her bag and handing it to him.
He reached out—his hand still a bit weak—and took the envelope. Glancing at it briefly, he gave it a little squeeze to check the thickness before opening it. Inside was the exact amount… or perhaps even a bit more than expected.
"This is…"
"The extra is just a small thank-you for the trouble last night. It's nothing much. I didn't have change anyway, so don't worry about it."
Since it wasn't a significant amount, he didn't dwell on it. He simply slipped the envelope into a drawer in his desk and gestured for her to sit, before lowering himself into a chair as well.
Though the effects of the anesthetic had mostly worn off, he still hadn't fully recovered. Standing was tiring, and he didn't have the strength to keep it up.
Seeing him sit down with an exhausted expression, Mari hesitated for a moment, then sat too. Looking at the boy before her, she couldn't help but ask curiously:
"Coming home at this hour… did you join a club or something?"
"Nope, not in any clubs. I just got held up at school because of something that happened. Couldn't leave right after class."
There was no way he could explain the whole carbonated water incident that had left him paralyzed for half the afternoon—no one would believe that story anyway. So he chose to keep it vague.
Mari's gaze lingered on his handsome face, and she tilted her head with a teasing smile.
"Don't tell me… you got called behind the gym by a girl for a dramatic love confession?"
To Mari, someone like Haruto—talented and good-looking—would undoubtedly be popular at school. A delay like this could only mean something romantic, right?
Haruto forced a smile across his still-slightly-numb face.
"Nope. That kind of thing hasn't happened. I used to get a lot of love letters, but not so much anymore."
"Used to? Did everyone find out you have a girlfriend or something?"
"Not exactly."
The sound of the kettle boiling made him turn around. He stood up, pulled two clean cups from the cupboard, rinsed them, and added tea leaves. Once the tea was ready, he placed the cups on the table and sat down again.
"My girlfriend doesn't go to my school, so no one really knows about her. But because I get along pretty well with some of the girls at school, rumors started, and I think that made the others back off."
"Getting along with girls, huh? Sounds like you're pretty popular then. I bet they're all really cute?"
At first, Mari hadn't understood why someone like him wouldn't be swarmed with confessions. But now it made sense—being surrounded by charming girls already would definitely intimidate others.
Still, she found herself just a little bothered. He had a girlfriend in another school… but still got along well with other girls? Her thoughts wandered to places she knew they shouldn't. She couldn't help but think:
Isn't that kind of… sketchy?
"Cute, yeah. Each with her own charm. But I've told them all I already have a girlfriend."
He lightly touched his teacup, still too hot to drink.
Noticing Mari's gaze, Haruto offered a gentle smile. She quickly looked away, suddenly feeling guilty for her earlier thoughts.
"Mari-nee, what kind of stories do you think I should write next?"
Shifting away from the awkward topic of school and relationships, Haruto redirected the conversation toward something more professional—his writing. He wasn't looking for a firm direction, just a bit of casual input.
The sudden topic change pulled Mari out of her spiral. She refocused, studying the boy across from her with a more thoughtful look.
"Well… honestly, I think the theme of 'The Angel with a Stigma' is already great. The mix of youth, emotion, and deeper commentary on society works really well. But if you want to reach an even broader audience, maybe try something more aimed at women."
"A story for female readers, huh?"
"Right."
There was no question—female readership had massive market potential. Haruto nodded, considering it seriously.
"But stories for girls…"
"Romance, mostly. For teenage girls—middle and high schoolers—those kinds of love stories can blow up if done right. And you, Haruto… honestly, with your looks, you could be an idol. Just polish the image a bit, and your work would practically sell itself."
Mari's eyes began to sparkle as she spoke, her excitement building.
"Plus, authors aren't held to the same strict standards as idols. Even if you have a girlfriend, no one would care. In fact, we could spin that relationship into something heartwarming—tie it into your image and your writing. It could be great for PR! Even if the two of you eventually break—cough, sorry…"
She trailed off, catching herself just in time.
Haruto looked at Mari in front of him and didn't get angry. Instead, he softly smiled.
"No, it's fine. I understand what you mean, Mari-nee. Even if we broke up, the reason can still be romanticized—like pursuing our dreams and freedom, right?"
"It's rare in the industry, but there is such a thing as an 'idol-writer.' They transition from being an idol to a writer, maximizing their own interests, even doing things that would leave people stunned if they knew..."
She paused, her gaze meeting Haruto's. She then gave him a slight explanation.
"Of course, I don't think you're that type of person."
"I understand."
His calm response and faint smile seemed to ease Mari's concerns. She had been worried that Haruto might misunderstand her intentions.
"If you're willing, you could collaborate with the publishing company to package you as an 'idol-writer.' They would help with promoting you, and with your natural charisma, it would probably attract a lot of female fans. Then those fans would turn into readers and supporters."
"Then I'd need to sign a long-term contract with Sakura Publishing, right?"
"Yeah."
"I'm not thinking about that for now. I'll consider it later, but I prefer my peaceful life as it is."
If Haruto really followed through on Mari's suggestion, he'd definitely become popular. However, his personal life would be hard to maintain. Even simple things like going to school would become difficult. He would have to align with the publishing house and possibly even agencies.
Managing the idol-writer persona on his own would be difficult, and he'd likely have to sign with another talent agency, collaborating with them for activities.
While he didn't fully understand the ins and outs of the industry, he had a basic awareness of it.
"Have you considered it? You'd be really popular with girls."
"No, that kind of life isn't what I'm looking for."
"On this, Haruto-kun, you really are... more mature than most people your age."
"A lot of people say that."
Haruto smiled at her words, taking a small sip of his tea. Mari, on the other hand, felt a bit helpless. Earlier, he'd seemed willing to cooperate, and she thought it would be a mutually beneficial deal for both of them. But now, being rejected, there was nothing she could do.
It wasn't her place to pressure him either. They hadn't known each other for long, and their relationship was more of acquaintanceship. She had no reason to ask him to do anything.
As she thought about it, Mari looked down at herself briefly, then glanced at Haruto across from her. For a moment, she felt a stirring in her chest. She bit her lip, blushing as she felt ashamed of her thoughts. Trying to cover it up, she quietly lifted her tea cup to hide her embarrassment.
"By the way, you mentioned before... works of an erotic nature? You... could it be...?"
Suddenly, her thoughts turned to what Haruto had previously said. Now that they were in his apartment, she couldn't help but look at him more intently, her gaze shifting toward curiosity.
"Mm..."
The sudden mention of "erotic" works caught Haruto off guard as well. He silently stood up, and under Mari's watchful eyes, walked to his desk. From the drawer, he pulled out a manuscript for Honey Land.
Returning to the table, he sat down and handed the manuscript over to her. Mari hesitated for a moment before taking the papers and looking them over.
'Honey Land'... this name...
Mari couldn't deny her curiosity about the topic. She had ventured into the age restricted area before, back when she was alone. She had even briefly looked around, but her embarrassment stopped her from buying anything.
She had been afraid of the strange looks from others, so she quickly left.
However, online, she had logged into those websites before, bought some e-books, and even read some works. Now, as she looked at the manuscript, the title alone gave her a familiar sense of déjà vu.
After a moment's hesitation, she finally reached out, flipping the pages to glance at the content. The handwriting looked the same as the original manuscript Haruto had given her before.
She raised her gaze, looking at the boy across from her. Quietly, she pressed her lips together, keeping her thoughts to herself as she continued reading...
_ _ _ _
Unlike usual, Futaba Rio didn't linger at school. Shortly after Haruto left, she returned home and stepped into the bathroom. With trembling fingers, she unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Then, gripping the hem of her plain white cotton stripped panties, she slowly pulled them down—
A stark, glaring scarlet red.
Her lips pressed into a tight line, teeth digging into the soft lips. Her eyes darkened with something hollow, something lost. She hadn't expected herself to do something so reckless, so... insane.
A ragged breath escaped her as she shut her eyes, tilting her head back. When she opened them again, the mirror reflected a girl with a bitter smile—a pitiful clown, tears streaming unchecked down her face.