It was 5:40 p.m., twenty minutes until school ended.
Aoyama Osamu had lost the stamina and drive to keep visiting clubs.
Mentally drained, his legs ached so badly he could barely walk—true exhaustion, body and soul.
He sat in the hallway outside the choir club, waiting for Ono Mizuki to finish and help him home.
The brass band seemed to be practicing in groups; a few members stood on the elevated walkway, their melodies carrying the unique loneliness of after-school under the setting sun.
"I want a drink," Aoyama Osamu murmured, gazing at the sky.
Too broke to buy one.
Legs too shot to get one.
Where was his future?
—System.
The panel popped up.
Always there, like an endless roll of toilet paper in a bathroom—reassuring.
—If you're so smart, can you be smarter? My request's simple: next time you detect competition mode, aim for second place, not my life.
No response.
—At least for 'Self-Study,' can I set the time? Does it always have to be two hours?
Still no response.
Figures—toilet paper doesn't talk.
But if toilet paper did talk in a bathroom, that'd be terrifying.
With nothing to do, Aoyama Osamu zoned out, recalling today's Japanese literature and Math II lessons.
The memories were vivid, almost carved into his mind—could human memory really be this sharp?
Two lives later, he wasn't sure.
After reviewing, he brainstormed a Campus Mystery novel.
Combining last night's book and today's chaos, ideas flowed endlessly, each sparkling like a rainbow.
But he was the sidekick—Miu Ai, the maze girl, was the detective.
His ideas, or the system's implants?
The same doubt resurfaced.
Checking the panel, despite his brilliant plot ideas, material progress hadn't budged.
The system saw it coming.
Aoyama Osamu grew excited—what kind of novel would form at 100%?
Maybe one book could free him and the Ono sisters from 100-yen underwear forever.
100-yen underwear—you'd be too embarrassed to get to the pants-off stage in a relationship.
At 6:00, choir club ended on time.
Ono Mizuki helped Aoyama Osamu leave school. They took the train from Minato Ward to Kita-Senju Station in Adachi Ward.
"Rest up. I'll make dinner," Mizuki said, setting him in the living room and tying on an apron.
"Thanks," Aoyama Osamu said.
He took out his phone to check in with Ono Mihana, confirming they were safe.
No part-time jobs now—maybe cancel the phone next month to save money.
As he thought this, Mizuki's voice came.
"Bro, I'm quitting my club to work part-time, like Nee-chan."
Aoyama Osamu looked at Mizuki, her back to the living room, focused on cooking.
He didn't need to look to know dinner: cream stew and boiled broccoli.
Like curry, cream stew was made for three days.
Three people kept daily food costs around 800 yen.
"Next month," Aoyama Osamu said. "If I haven't written a money-making novel by then, you can work."
He didn't outright reject her intent.
"Don't push yourself," Mizuki said, glancing back.
"I'm not."
"Fainting from a job, writing novels right after recovery, losing it in PE—not pushing yourself?"
"Nonsense!"
"That's what Kuse-sensei said."
"Tell her to watch out at night!"
After a pause, Aoyama Osamu added, "Mizuki, let's talk next month. I think I've got this."
"…Fine."
Cooking sounds filled the room.
If school allowed jobs, Aoyama Osamu could use skills like cooking to earn quick cash.
He could drop out to escape school rules.
But long-term, dropping out was a bad move.
Besides, if Mihana and Mizuki held on one month, he could turn things around.
With enough material, he'd write that novel!
"Mizuki, what's Kaimei's choir club like?" he asked, changing the heavy topic.
"Hm… not as good as my middle school's," Mizuki said after thinking. "Senpai says we're competing, but at this level, it's risky."
"But you're in it now," Aoyama Osamu grinned. "Mizuki, work hard this year, level up. Next year, as president, lead them to nationals."
"Is that your novel plot?"
"How's it sound?"
"Only I'd buy it—if you pay."
—System, write a novel about a high school girl striving for her club and reaching nationals.
['National Competition' project created.]
[Material gathering started: 1%... 2%... 3%... 4%... 8%]
Long road ahead.
Better focus on Campus Mystery, Main Ability: Appearance.
Miu Ai's slender, captivating figure flashed in his mind—her face like fresh snow in sunlight, melting at a touch.
If he knew her well enough, he'd gather material fast, right?
After a simple dinner, they studied.
—System, time to study. Math II.
[Guidance started.]
Two hours later, he snapped out of it, a satisfying fullness in his mind—or heart.
But his stomach growled.
Lately, his activity—physical and mental—was high. Skipping lunch, eating one portion for dinner wasn't enough for sixteen-year-old Aoyama Osamu.
Before his stomach rumbled, he chugged water.
Write the book, make money!
Not just for the Ono sisters, but so he could eat his fill!
"Bro, lend me your phone," Mizuki said, done studying.
"Sure."
Mizuki logged into her LINE, chatting with classmates and checking choir club updates.
Poverty had perks—if he needed to prove his phone history, he could.
Aoyama Osamu picked up a mystery novel and read.
At the right time, he closed it. "I'm picking up Mihana-nee. Be careful alone."
Sprawled on the tatami, engrossed in a match-3 game, Mizuki looked up. "Your legs are shot. I'll go."
"Sisters together just excite perverts. What's the point?"
"Creep!"
Mizuki knew his joking hid care and didn't push.
Even with bad legs, a guy deterred creeps better than a girl.
Ono Mihana worked part-time at a nearby private dental clinic's front desk.
Monday to Friday, 7:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m.; weekends, 7:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m.
Her gentle beauty and naturally white teeth made her a perfect fit—like a healthy tooth no professional dentist would pull.
At the clinic, Mihana wasn't off yet, wearing a nurse outfit.
"Osamu-kun, wait a sec. A late patient came!" Mihana said.
"Sure," Aoyama Osamu nodded.
Could a dental clinic fit his novel? He observed every detail, including magazines in the waiting area.
[Campus Mystery, Main Ability: Appearance: 90.1%]
0.1?
—System, are you Pinduoduo?!
The name sparked endless worry—Pinduoduo's oppressive vibe.
But if the clinic was useful, so was the nurse outfit, right?
Aoyama Osamu admired Mihana's nurse look.
"Okay, so you're… planning to come next Monday at 8:00 a.m., right?" Mihana, confirming a patient's next visit, fumbled under his stare.