"You're seriously something else…"
Osaka Gou gave Kyousuke a sidelong glance—then a second, and a third.
Seeing the two editors nearby pretending to look at nothing in particular, eyes glued to their laps like monks in meditation, he finally couldn't hold it in and spoke up.
"What's your problem?" Kyousuke blinked, genuinely confused.
He'd abandoned a car full of beautiful girls to ride with these guys instead.
Shouldn't that count as a gesture worthy of applause?
"What's my problem? You really don't get it?
You don't even have the tiniest spark of that 'I just bought a new car, look at me!' vibe that all men have?" Osaka Gou groaned, exasperated.
This morning, when the convoy came to pick him up and he spotted that high-end Lexus van, he thought, 'Finally! Hojou Kyousuke's growing up—he knows how to show up properly to events like this.'
As Hojou's best buddy, the kind who could get a phone call even in the middle of a date, Gou thought it was only natural for him to ride in that shiny new van.
But when he walked over with a proud grin on his face, Kisaki coldly informed him: "That's the ladies-only vehicle."
'What kind of nonsense is this!?'
This guy didn't even try to hide the fact that he valued women over friends.
"New car?" Kyousuke tilted his head.
From the moment he casually mentioned buying a new vehicle to the point where he stepped into that nearly 30 million yen Lexus, all he'd done was say three sentences to Kisaki.
The rest—choosing the model, securing connections, paying, picking it up within a day—had all been taken care of by his capable subordinates.
His only real thought about the car?
"Still too small," he muttered, shaking his head, genuinely puzzled at Gou's grudge-filled stare.
A real man should drive a bus, dammit.
A big one. Full of beauties.
So shallow, these people.
"Too small!?" Osaka Gou nearly choked.
But now he kind of understood why Shimomura Tetsuya once told him, "You'll understand once you visit Hojou Kyousuke's house."
Gou had thought today's event was a guy's party—just like yesterday's.
After all, that Miss Amamiya, who clearly had feelings for Hojou, would be at the venue too.
He hadn't expected Hojou to walk out of that mansion trailed by four vibrant, youthful girls.
And from the faint voices he'd heard inside, there were at least two more women still in the house.
That wasn't even counting Okudera-san, the one who ran the restaurant, or that golden-haired mixed-blood girl he'd only seen once.
Forget one van—even two might feel cramped.
"You wouldn't get it," Kyousuke said, shaking his head.
"I really wish I did," Gou sighed.
'Damn you, Hojou.'
This car was actually a company vehicle from Eishuusha.
Besides the two of them, sitting in the car was also Shimomura Tetsuya, editor from Weekly Shounen High.
It was unclear why he was even here, since none of his projects were nominated.
If he had the seniority, Akamatsu Yuki—who was actually in charge of publishing The Devotion of Suspect X—would've kicked this guy off the ride already.
Akamatsu was also in the car, grinning like a kid who won the lottery.
'A gem like Hojou Kyousuke… good thing Shimomura-senpai is a manga editor, not a novelist.'
Otherwise, someone like him wouldn't have gotten the chance to manage this genius.
Also present was Kisaki Tetta—but he looked oddly fidgety, lips twitching, clearly trying to say something but holding it in.
It was making Hojou's neat-freak instincts itch.
"Kisaki, did you skip breakfast and now you're car sick?" Hojou asked.
"As if! Even if I hadn't eaten in three days, I still wouldn't get car sick!" Kisaki snapped back immediately.
After all, his childhood dream had been to become Japan's number one biker gang leader—how could he possibly get car sick?
No, the real reason was…
For the first time, Hojou Kyousuke's most loyal underling didn't know what to do with his overflowing devotion.
Thankfully, the car's mood settled into a quiet lull, signaling to the more socially adept men that it was time to steer the topic elsewhere.
Osaka Gou took the hint.
"With the Honya Taisho win under his belt, the Mystery Writers' Association might throw a fit again."
"Huh? Why? Isn't this the first time a mystery novel has ever taken the grand prize at the Honya Taisho since it started? If that doesn't open their eyes, what will?"
Kisaki's voice boomed with righteous anger.
If he hadn't believed in his boss's genius, he would've already paid a visit to the judges who didn't vote for him.
Don't misunderstand—he wasn't going to threaten them.
He'd just… pick up their kids from school. Buy them ice cream.
Take them to the park. Give them rides home.
Win them over with kindness.
And if that didn't work? He'd rent the apartment next door and hold Buddhist purification rituals every day with 40–50 monks.
Kisaki believed in sincerity.
If you give your heart, others will understand.
"As I said, it's the first mystery novel to win since the prize began. Chosen by bookstore staff all over the country as the book they most want to sell. It's a huge honor…"
Osaka Gou trailed off, not bothering to explain further.
He didn't need to.
Kisaki understood. The phrase "the book they most want to sell" said it all.
In the literary hierarchy, mystery novels aren't quite as "pure" as literary fiction, but they still rank far above mainstream pop fiction.
And within that hierarchy, sales matter.
Light novels and adult fiction sit at the bottom.
So if you wrote a mystery that sells this well and won an award that represents the voice of the public—why should you take away a trophy meant for "serious" mystery authors?
Just go back to writing your cute light novels and drawing your manga.
Kisaki's gaze hardened.
He said nothing. Just turned toward his boss.
And there he was Kyousuke sitting in the front-right seat, wearing his usual calm smile, as if none of the earlier conversation even reached his ears.
Just like that very first day they met.
Back when Tsuzuki burst into his classroom like a lunatic, scaring Takemichi and the others into a frenzy, Hojou didn't even glance up.
That unshakable composure, as immovable as a mountain—that was why Kisaki had chosen to follow him.
"Don't worry so much. Let tomorrow's wind blow tomorrow.
If you drag tomorrow's worries into today, all you're doing is doubling your stress.
You people—this is why you're all aging out of your youth."
Kyousuke chuckled, entirely unbothered.
He wasn't some high schooler cramming for a Japanese language exam anymore.
He was carrying real weapons now—and people who wield real power don't need to shout.
If those two stubborn judges really dared not vote for him in the end, well… he wouldn't hold back.
Whatever they published, he'd publish in the same category. Whatever genre they wrote, he'd write it better.
And every time he accepted an award, he'd make sure to "thank" them for their invaluable inspiration.
Raise the trophy, look into the camera, and shout, "Hey XX-san, see this? I won the XX award!"
Every interview, every TV appearance, he'd just happen to bring up how XX-senpai gave him such heartfelt advice when he was first nominated.
It wasn't sarcasm—far from it.
If a reporter ever asked him why his book sales were less than one-twentieth of Senior XX's, he'd respond with heartfelt anguish, lamenting that his own writing simply lacked literary depth.
Senior XX's works, he'd say, deserved to be on a United Nations-recommended reading list.
Only the truly wise and courageous could fully grasp them.
Just like he always said—"Let tomorrow's winds blow tomorrow"—he chose the identity of a mystery novelist for a reason, and that's why he borrowed the framework of the genre.
But if you enter this field and stick to outdated methods, then you're just being disrespectful.
Every industry has its own set of rules.
Even bribery, if you had to go that far, would be more tasteful than the cheap tactics Kisaki used.
As for intellectuals doing things like picking up someone else's kid from school? That's just disgraceful.
"With the stage President Konno has built, I believe we'll definitely be able to reach an understanding with those two esteemed seniors."
Kyousuke smiled as he looked back at the group in the rear seats.
There was a warmth in his expression, yet it carried a sharp, biting chill—like an early spring breeze still laced with melting frost.
Kisaki, already all too familiar with the violent nature lurking beneath his older brother's gentle facade, stayed silent.
But Osaka Gou, Tetsuya Shimomura, and Yuki Akamatsu all felt a sudden chill run down their spines.
"Un–understanding!"
"Yes! Long live understanding!"
"Exactly! Communication is the bridge to human progress!"
They nodded furiously.
Shimomura in particular was reminded of the time Kyousuke took him to "communicate" with that entertainment agency president, Matsuda.
Let's just say… very few people walked away from that "conversation" still confused.
"That's right! If boss steps in, there's no problem that can't be solved!" Kisaki shouted with such volume that Osaka Gou was now convinced Hojou Kyousuke's company must be sponsored by a hearing aid manufacturer.
"Exactly! Like how if a dog's head is facing east, its tail naturally points west—it's only logical!"
Not to be outdone, Shimomura joined in.
He was still counting on Kyousuke to win the Mystery Writers' Grand Prize and finally greenlight that love-mystery manga starring the little reaper boy.
Just imagine the tagline: 'Japan's Supreme Mystery Superstar Presents the Ultimate Detective Romance!'
The series hadn't even launched yet, and he was already fantasizing about the future—manga, volumes, adaptations, licensing deals...
Oh, wait. All of that belonged to Hojou-san.
Still, just thinking about it made his blood boil with excitement.
It was decided.
Once his son graduated, he'd have him join Hojou-san's company.
Following him from school straight into work—that's the pinnacle of Japanese tradition!
He might even become one of the founding retainers of the new noble clan: the House of Hojou.
The mood, which had been tense only a few moments earlier, now burned with enthusiasm thanks to just a few words from Hojou.
Even Osaka Gou, who knew him the least, felt a surge of confidence.
Twenty minutes later, the motorcade arrived at the Meiji Memorial Hall.
Sakura was the first to hop out of the car. As she looked around the bustling parking lot, she let out a surprised whisper.
"Wow~ Is someone getting married here today?"
"The Kinkei Hall was rented out by the committee, so no weddings today," Kyousuke replied as he stepped forward and took her hand.
Even though the car sat barely ten centimeters off the ground, Sakura had leapt out with her arms stretched wide like she was walking a tightrope.
"Oh, is that the hall with all those delicious-looking pheasants painted on the walls?" Sakura asked, curious.
"Ahem, those aren't for eating!" Even Kyousuke, with his rather flexible sense of propriety, wouldn't dare joke about something like that.
After Sakura, Mitsuha, Shouko, and Naoka also got out and began surveying their surroundings.
The parking lot, which normally held just twenty or thirty vehicles, was now almost completely full.
Just like Sakura said—it really did look like a wedding was underway.
"Well, she's not wrong," Osaka muttered. "It is a wedding. A wedding between Hojou and the Booksellers' Grand Prize. The child of that union? A crystal trophy."
His voice dripped with envy, but he still couldn't stop himself from joining in on the teasing.
"Wait—wait, could this be…!?" Sakura gasped, eyes wide.
But before she could finish the sentence, Mitsuha quickly covered her mouth while Shouko and Naoka grabbed her hands and dragged her away, forcing awkward smiles.
"What? It's just a public display of affection," Sakura mumbled, still stuck between the two girls. She kept glancing back at Kyousuke.
This wasn't Kyousuke and the prize's moment.
This was my moment—standing beside him on his big day.
All of Kyousuke's past awards—certificates, trophies—had been split between her and Hojou Mikiko. But today's…
Sakura wasn't the only one overwhelmed with emotion.
Shouko's heart was also pounding.
This was the Meiji Memorial Hall—the place where wedding banquets were held.
Under a red paper umbrella, dressed in a white bridal kimono, walking beside Hojou down the sacred path to the shrine.
Entering together.
The purification ritual.
Presenting their vows before the gods.
And then—the shrine maiden, dressed in red and white with a crane-patterned chihaya, offering a dance of grace and beauty.
Somehow, in Shouko's imagination, the dancing maiden gradually transformed into Miyamizu Mitsuha.
Startled, Shouko snapped out of the daydream before she could imagine the post-ceremony reception.
She carefully turned her head, peeking around Sakura to look at Mitsuha.
The girl's cheeks were flushed, her expression oddly flustered.
'I'm sorry, Mitsuha,' Shouko thought.
'If you need it, I'll learn to dance too. When the time comes, I'll dance for you as well.'
The venue was spacious, but there was no risk of getting lost. Every intersection had clear signs pointing the way.
Not that they were needed.
Before the group had even left the parking lot, Amamiya Miki arrived at a brisk pace to greet them.
But the moment she spotted the four stunning girls walking in a row at the front, her steps suddenly faltered.
Her smile visibly froze on her face.
That heartwarming little scene made Osaka Gou, who was watching from behind, smile inwardly.
'So you finally get a taste of your own medicine,' he thought smugly.
'Last time you ignored me—looks like it's your turn to be ignored today.'
Setting aside the petty thoughts of the middle-aged man, Amamiya Miki quickly composed her expression into a warm smile and picked up her pace.
Her steps were swift, determined, and headed straight for Hojou Kyousuke.
"Hojou-san, you're finally here."
A familiar opening line.
Anyone hearing it would immediately sense the anticipation and eagerness this beautiful woman held toward Kyousuke.
Unlike last time, when she wore a curve-hugging pencil skirt, today Amamiya Miki was dressed in a sleek silver pantsuit and wore white gloves—elegant and formal.
Among the four beautiful girls accompanying Hojou, Mitsuha and Naoka kept their smiles steady, though their eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Sakura, on the other hand, looked positively delighted—like a fox who'd just pulled off the perfect prank.
With his "Level 10: Reading Yamauchi Sakura's Expressions" ability, Kyousuke clearly saw the words written across her face: "Gotcha~"
"Haha, just thinking about today made me so excited I couldn't sleep last night. Honestly, I didn't even want to get out of bed this morning," he joked with a smile.
If a certain red-eyed girl with the absolute best legs in the world had been there, she would've immediately exposed his lie and told everyone the real reason he didn't sleep last night.
"Hehe~ I don't believe that. Hojou-san doesn't strike me as someone with such little self-control.
Honestly, anyone seeing you like this would think, 'Of course he's the one who should win,'" Amamiya Miki said with a light, ladylike chuckle.
Her eyes sparkling as she admired the man before her—so handsome he looked like he'd stepped out of a dream.
After savoring the view for a few seconds, she turned to address the others.
"Osaka-san, I saw your recommendation—it was the cutest one by far. It really fit the story's tone perfectly."
"And congratulations to you too, Akamatsu-san. Your first book with Hojou-san and you already won the Honya Grand Prize!"
…
As expected of someone who worked at the main branch of Kinokuniya, her tone and smile were flawless.
She managed to compliment everyone with grace and warmth, not leaving a single person out.
Sakura figured that even if Momotarou himself showed up, Amamiya would probably find something like "You eat breakfast very neatly" to compliment him on.
Then, when Amamiya subtly asked what exactly their relationship with Hojou was, Sakura cheerfully responded:
"Family."
Her energetic voice was bright and clear, the kind that naturally made people smile just by hearing it.
"Family?" Amamiya repeated, her eyes narrowing slightly.
She looked from left to right—Shouko, Sakura, Naoka, Mitsuha—and then back at Hojou Kyousuke.
'Different last names, every single one of them,' she thought.
'Unless they're from some mysterious clan that splits into separate branches every time a child is born, what kind of "family" ends up with five kids all having perfect faces, bodies, and charisma?'
"Yup! Family," Shouko nodded enthusiastically, her chubby little cheeks puffed out in a sweet, innocent smile that clearly showed how much she liked Sakura's answer.
Mitsuha covered her mouth and gave a modest smile, obviously agreeing.
Naoka, well… even if she had a different opinion, she wasn't going to voice it now.
"…Right." Amamiya sighed internally.
'Once again, everyone knows something I don't. Great.'
She walked ahead, saying, "The media and other judges have arrived. The ceremony's about to begin—we should head in."
She extended her gloved left hand like a flower girl inviting the groom down the aisle—even if no such tradition actually existed.
The ceremony, as explained at the earlier reception, would take place in the Fuji Hall on the second floor.
As they approached the grand entrance under the rain canopy, Hojou Kyousuke was stunned to see—
"Hojou, didn't you say there wasn't going to be a wedding here today?" Sakura asked, clearly puzzled.
"I mean, who could resist the charm of a once-in-five-trillion-light-years genius?" Osaka Gou joked. "Getting married on a day like this, in a place like this—any child born here would probably be writing essays by six months old."
"Ahh, I see," Sakura nodded seriously, seemingly convinced.
The group chatted and admired the wedding decorations as they walked along the traditional Japanese-style corridor toward the second floor.
The wedding ceremony hadn't started yet—probably because they were still holding the rites at Meiji Shrine.
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