"Tōdai sent me a special admission offer. I'll probably go there." Seiji Fujiwara answered honestly. It was something he had already decided long ago.
"Oh? Tōdai?"
Professor Yamada's eyes lit up instantly.
"That's wonderful news!"
He set down his sake cup, his tone brimming with excitement.
"Fujiwara-kun, if you join the Literature Department at Tōdai, I'll personally be your advisor!"
"And not just that—" his voice grew more forceful, "I can even use my authority to get you into our department's '2+2+3' integrated bachelor's-master's-doctorate program!"
"Two years for your undergrad, two for your master's, and three for your PhD! It'll save you from wasting time on redundant coursework, so you can devote more of your energy to writing!"
Across the table, Hiratsuka Shizuka and Utaha both stared in astonishment.
Was Professor Yamada really valuing Fujiwara-kun that much?
He was basically trying to make Seiji Fujiwara his personal disciple!
Seiji merely raised an eyebrow. He honestly had no interest in spending years slogging through basic university classes. This offer suited him perfectly.
He lifted his sake cup, smiling at the expectant professor. "Then thank you, Professor. I'll be in your care."
"Hahaha! Excellent! Cheers to that!"
Pleased with the answer, Professor Yamada laughed heartily and clinked his cup against Seiji's.
The dinner ended on a high note, laughter and warmth filling the private room.
Soon after, Professor Yamada excused himself to meet several senior professors who'd come from other universities.
Not long after that, Utaha also stood up. Inspired by a new flash of creativity from her talk with Seiji, she could hardly wait to jot it down before it faded. After wishing Seiji goodnight, she returned to her room.
In the blink of an eye, only Seiji and Hiratsuka remained in the room.
The air grew quiet.
Hiratsuka's cheeks were tinged with a charming flush from the sake.
"So, uh… Fujiwara-kun," she began, still in high spirits. She loved After School and A Certain Magical Index, and had a million questions as a fan. But earlier, with Professor Yamada dominating the conversation, she hadn't been able to say a word.
"What are you planning to do next?"
Seiji thought for a moment. "Maybe head to the inn's bar for another drink."
"The bar?" Hiratsuka's eyes lit up, instantly finding a kindred soul.
She blurted out, "Then let's go together!"
Having a beautiful teacher as drinking company was hardly something to refuse.
Seiji smiled. "Sure."
Her face brightened with delight.
The two walked side by side through the softly lit corridor toward the small Japanese-style bar tucked into the corner of the inn.
The bar was quiet, dimly lit, and filled with a calm, peaceful air.
They sat by the window and ordered a warm bottle of sake.
Outside, snowflakes drifted down.
Inside, the air was warm, the sake fragrant, and the mood slowly grew more intimate.
They chatted with enthusiasm—from the behind-the-scenes stories of After School to Seiji's ideas for his next project.
Hiratsuka turned into a full-blown fangirl.
Her questions came nonstop, her eyes sparkling as she leaned closer and closer without realizing it.
Seiji remained patient, smiling as he answered each one.
Before they knew it, the sake bottle was empty.
And so was the space between them—now close enough that their shoulders were pressed together.
Under the soft amber light, the atmosphere turned quietly, naturally ambiguous.
"So the ending—that open conclusion—was actually pointing to a single truth all along?" Hiratsuka asked, her cheeks glowing red, her eyes bright with admiration and curiosity.
She'd had quite a bit to drink, and her body leaned even closer, nearly resting against Seiji's shoulder.
"That's one way to see it," Seiji said with a gentle smile, refilling her cup. "I wanted to leave the final judgment to the readers."
"That's brilliant…" Hiratsuka sighed in satisfaction, downing the cup in one go. The clear liquid slid down her throat as her eyelids fluttered.
Just then, the bar's wooden door slid open with a creak, letting in a rush of cold air and laughter.
Four or five sharply dressed young men stepped inside—the up-and-coming writers attending the same literary conference.
"Man, Hokkaido's freezing!"
"No kidding. The snow's like a meter deep already."
"Hahaha, that's why you drink warm sake in weather like this!"
They chatted casually as they looked around for seats—
—until one of them suddenly froze.
His gaze locked onto the counter.
A tall, elegant woman sat beside a young man.
No—leaned against him. Their shoulders were pressed close, their faces nearly touching as they whispered to each other.
On Hiratsuka Shizuka's face was a soft, radiant smile the man had never seen before—girlish, almost shy. Her beautiful eyes shimmered like stars.
She… she was blushing at a boy nearly ten years younger than her?
And sitting that close?!
Jealousy flared like wildfire in Kikuchi Makoto's chest.
He had admired Hiratsuka for a long time, but she'd always kept her distance—polite, cold, untouchable. She never even gave him her contact info.
Yet now she was here, drinking intimately with some random boy?
Kikuchi's stomach twisted with bitter envy.
His friends noticed too.
"Wait, isn't that Miss Hiratsuka? What a coincidence."
"And who's that kid beside her?"
"He looks… like a high schooler?"
"Tsk, Kikuchi, maybe you should say hi. Can't let Miss Hiratsuka get too cozy with some stranger!"
They shot him encouraging looks—after all, friends stick together.
Kikuchi inhaled deeply, straightened his tie, forced a smile, and said, "You're right. It'd be rude not to greet her."
Then he strode straight toward them.
At the counter—
"So, your next work—will it be another mystery novel?" Hiratsuka asked curiously.
Seiji was just about to answer when he heard footsteps behind him.
He turned to see several men in their thirties walking over. The one in front wore a practiced, insincere smile.
Seiji glanced at them without emotion. His physical strength was no joke—he could literally take on ten men at once. If they were looking for trouble, they'd regret it.
Hiratsuka also turned, her brows subtly knitting when she recognized the man.
"Kikuchi," she said coolly, her tone distant.
"Good evening, Miss Hiratsuka. Fancy seeing you here." Kikuchi greeted her with a smile before turning to Seiji, his voice dripping with false casualness. "And this is… your junior, perhaps? Care to introduce us?"
"Kikuchi, don't start," Hiratsuka said sharply, her expression darkening.
But before he could respond, one of his friends suddenly gasped.
"W-wait… you're Mr. Fujiwara!?"
The words hit like thunder.
Everyone's faces changed at once.
"My god—it is Fujiwara-sensei!"
"No wonder he looked familiar…"
"An honor to meet you, Fujiwara-sensei! Are you also attending the conference?"
In an instant, their arrogant expressions melted into awe, shock, and fawning reverence.
The literary world had no equal footing—status was everything. And the Edogawa Ranpo Prize overshadowed every other award in the room.
They might have been up-and-coming writers with small local prizes, but compared to the youngest Ranpo Prize winner in history, their accomplishments were like fireflies before the moon—utterly insignificant.
"Fujiwara-sensei! I'm Kenichi Suzuki—I wrote Whispers on a Rainy Night. I'm honored to meet you!"
"Fujiwara-sensei, hello! I'm Hiroshi Tanaka—my novel's Lies Beneath the Cherry Blossoms! It's such a privilege!"
The same men who had come in full of arrogance now bowed deeply, tripping over themselves to introduce their names and works.
Seiji merely nodded slightly, aloof and composed, his expression that of someone looking down from the summit.
None of them found it strange. In fact, they felt it was only natural.
"What an honor to meet you, Fujiwara-sensei!"
"Truly! I hope we'll have a chance to learn from you someday!"
"Please, enjoy your evening—we won't disturb you any longer!"
After another round of flattery, they hurriedly dragged the pale, speechless Kikuchi away.
From the moment Seiji's identity had been revealed, Kikuchi hadn't uttered another word.
Watching them leave, Seiji turned back to Hiratsuka with an amused grin. "That Kikuchi guy seems pretty interested in you, huh?"
"Ugh. Just a troublesome junior," Hiratsuka grumbled, draining the rest of her sake in one gulp.
"Forget him! He's such a buzzkill." She shook her head, forcing a bright smile. "Come on, let's keep drinking! Tell me more about your next project!"
Perhaps meeting her idol had gone to her head, but Hiratsuka began drinking even harder than before.
Her gestures grew looser, bolder, until she was practically hanging off Seiji's arm. Her warm breath brushed his neck, carrying a faint, intoxicating scent.
Naturally, Seiji wasn't foolish enough to push her away.
A beautiful woman in his arms, fine sake in hand—who could complain?
Two hours later, Hiratsuka was completely drunk, out cold.
Seiji lifted her gently, his arm sinking into her soft, supple body, and for a brief moment, temptation flickered.
But then he remembered the power of Hiratsuka's fists.
After a second's thought, he decided it was best to simply carry her back to her room—nothing more.
Meanwhile, in Kikuchi's room, the mood was sour.
"Come on, Kikuchi, don't take it so hard. That was Seiji Fujiwara you were up against! Losing to him isn't shameful."
"Yeah, he's the youngest Edogawa Ranpo Prize winner ever! A monster of a genius!"
"Who could've guessed Miss Hiratsuka actually knows him?"
His friends tried to console him, but Kikuchi sat slumped on the sofa, his face dark.
He wasn't comforted in the slightest.
He was furious.
He had spent weeks preparing for this literary salon, crafting a piece he thought would stun everyone—and finally earn Hiratsuka's admiration.
But now, Seiji Fujiwara's sudden appearance shattered all of that.
"I haven't lost yet!" Kikuchi suddenly said, his eyes burning with jealousy and defiance.
"So what if he won the Ranpo Prize? That just proves he can write mysteries!"
"The salon tomorrow will test true literary depth! Just watch—tomorrow's stage will be mine!"
His friends exchanged silent glances. They knew he was just saving face, but none of them called him out.
Instead, they all voiced support.
"Yeah! We believe in you, Kikuchi!"
"Besides, Miss Hiratsuka's way older than him—it's definitely not what it looked like!"
"Exactly! Nothing to worry about."
"Good luck tomorrow, Kikuchi!"
The next day.
Outside the winter literary salon's venue, guests were already arriving in small groups, chatting over hot tea before entering.
Seiji and Utaha walked in side by side.
He wore a tailored black coat that emphasized his tall, refined figure. Utaha was dressed in a navy dress and an elegant beige trench coat, her long hair cascading like silk—a perfect blend of intellect and allure.
At the entrance, they met Professor Yamada and Hiratsuka.
"Fujiwara-kun, Kasumigaoka-san—good morning." Yamada's voice was bright, his eyes gleaming with admiration.
"Good morning, Professor," Seiji replied with a polite smile.
Beside them, Hiratsuka looked… awkward.
Her makeup was light but meticulous, her eyes evasive.
After a moment of hesitation, she leaned closer to Seiji and whispered, "Um… Seiji, thank you for last night. I'm sorry—I drank too much and made a fool of myself."
Seiji turned to her, his tone gentle. "Don't worry about it, Hiratsuka-sensei. I enjoyed our talk."
His calm, unaffected attitude made it seem as if nothing had happened at all—as though the close contact from last night had been just a dream.
Hiratsuka felt relief wash over her… followed by a faint pang of disappointment.
When she'd woken up that morning and remembered how she'd practically clung to him like a koala, babbling nonsense—she'd wanted to crawl under the futon and disappear.
He was still a high school student. She was a high school teacher.
If anything had happened, it would've been catastrophic—for both of them.
Thankfully, everything had remained proper.
Her clothes were intact. Her reputation was safe.
And yet… a strange sense of loss lingered.
Guess I really am getting old. Not even a handsome genius high schooler finds me tempting anymore, she thought bitterly, her mind a tangle of regret and self-mockery.
The salon was held in a small banquet hall that could seat over a hundred guests.
As Professor Yamada led the group inside, all eyes turned toward them.
Seeing Seiji's poised demeanor, Hiratsuka's emotions grew even more complicated.
She sighed softly and followed the group inside.