The fact that Aizono Moe had no plans to apply to an arts university meant she had plenty of free time. And her passion for drawing had already translated into rare design-related skills.
She was the perfect candidate to illustrate a light novel.
If Akira were on his own, even plagiarizing novels from his old world wouldn't guarantee success. His literary skills were just too lacking.
Same old problem: his language proficiency was dragging him down.
Sure, Akira had spent the past six months polishing his Japanese. Listening, speaking, and reading were all fine now—but when it came to writing, the gap between him and a native speaker was painfully obvious.
If he were writing in Chinese, Akira was confident he could earn his first bucket of gold by publishing web novels. But in Japanese? His writing was barely on par with a grade-school essay—grammatically correct, but stylistically flat.
His Japanese was still only at Level 1. Expecting him to craft eloquent, beautiful prose was just unrealistic.
Even if he came up with a clever line in Chinese, he still had to mentally translate it into Japanese—and if he couldn't maintain both meaning and nuance, the writing would feel second-rate.
That said, light novels weren't serious literature. What mattered most wasn't literary depth, but punchy premises, engaging stories, and memorable characters.
Still, even for a light novel, readability mattered. A smooth, immersive experience required at least some writing skill.
Akira wasn't quite there yet.
But with high-quality illustrations, he could bridge that gap. More than bridge it—he could blow the competition out of the water.
After all, the light novel industry in this world was still in its early stages. It hadn't yet been flooded by samey isekai stories and cheap power fantasies.
Looking at some of the earlier works, Akira noticed that the illustration quality was pretty average.
Originally, illustrations were only meant to supplement the story—to help readers visualize the characters. The writing was the main dish; the art was just garnish.
But publishers eventually realized that good art sold books. So over time, the art in light novels got more and more competitive—so much so that the genre earned the nickname: "Buy the art, get the toilet paper free."
The writing became secondary. If the illustrations were stunning enough, people would buy the book just for those.
So if Akira could find a long-term illustrator to pair with his half-baked prose, it would be a dimensional slash against the current field.
That's why, the moment he saw Moe's talent and skill breakdown, he had to lock her in.
But gripping her hands like that—as if making a passionate love confession—hit Aizono Moe like a truck.
Her entire face went red like a burning sunset. Her pupils lost focus. Her soul practically left her body.
"Wh-What are you even saying?!"
It was Shirai Shiori's sharp voice that snapped Moe back to her senses. Regaining her awareness, Moe looked down shyly and murmured,
"U-Um… Kuroba-kun… your hands…"
"Oh—sorry. Got a little carried away."
But Akira still didn't let go. He held onto Moe's hands and spoke with deep sincerity:
"But I really want you to illustrate my novel!"
I'm not letting go of this golden goose!
"Of course, I'm not expecting you to do it for free. Once the novel is published, I'll give you your usual artist's fee—plus half the royalties. How about that?"
Normally, illustrators got paid separately from the author, but Akira didn't mind giving her a bigger cut. He just wanted to tie her to the project.
Where else was he going to find a partner like this? She was a once-in-a-lifetime catch!
Moe didn't really understand the financial side of things, but she could feel the weight of Akira's desire. The hobby she'd always treated casually was now being passionately requested by someone—and that overwhelmed her ability to say no.
She was just worried. She'd never drawn light novel illustrations before. Would she be any good?
"U-Uh… you want me to d-draw… illustrations for a light novel…?"
At that moment, Anri Hitomi—who had been quietly watching the whole exchange—stepped forward and gently placed her hands over theirs.
Suddenly, the three of them were stacked in a weird, motivational hand-pile.
Though the class rep's touch seemed gentle, she was gripping tightly enough that Akira couldn't pull his hands back if he tried.
With a carefree smile and an innocent tone, she chimed in:
"Oh, I know about those! Light novels are those little books with pictures that have become really popular lately, right? Because they come in bunkobon format, they're super easy to carry around!"
Anri's understanding of light novels matched that of most people in this world.
Bunkobon referred to a compact paperback format that originated during the Showa era—about the size of one's palm, easy to hold and read.
Originally, bunkobon were used to republish hardcover books more affordably. But with the rise of accessible fiction in the 21st century, light novels gave the format a whole new life.
Not only did "light" refer to their readability—it also described their physical weight. The term "light novel" stuck and became synonymous with the bunkobon format.
"U-Um, Hitomi-chan… I do know what light novels are… I read them all the time, actually…"
Moe was a bit of an otaku herself—definitely a manga junkie. And light novels, being so close in spirit to manga, had naturally caught her interest. She'd even bought quite a few of the popular titles.
Her favorite genre? School romances.
The overly intimate interactions between boys and girls had always been the kind of fantasy she adored.
But she'd always thought that sort of thing only existed in fiction—until today, when a boy actually held her hand…
His hand is so big… and strong…
And warm… it's like putting my hand in a kotatsu…
No—stop! Not the time for this!
Moe quickly shook the thoughts from her head and tried to compose herself.
"U-Um… I just don't understand why me, Kuroba-kun? You haven't even seen any of my drawings…"
"I read palms, remember? Just from your hand, I can tell—you're more than capable."
"Uuu…"
Being trusted so absolutely—it made Moe's heart float, but her anxiety grounded her again. She wasn't sure she could live up to it.
"B-But… I've never drawn illustrations before…"
"No problem—I'll teach you! Aizono-san, you've got the talent. You'll pick it up fast. You'll even outdraw the competition!"
"I-I guess… I could… try…?"
Moe was clearly wavering. Unsure what to do, she looked to her two best friends for help.
But before Anri could even speak, Akira cut in:
"The class rep said earlier that the Literature Club doesn't really have any official activities right now, right? So if we take this opportunity to actually publish a novel—even if we don't have enough members—the student council won't be able to disband us. On top of that, it'd raise the club's profile and attract more new members."
Using the survival of the club as a moral imperative to pressure Moe—this way, even if she didn't care about royalties or fame, her sense of duty would still push her to help.
And with Anri on his side, Akira figured this argument was bulletproof.
But Shirai Shiori, who had stayed silent until now, snapped.
Palm reading, huh? Sure. Just an excuse to whisper sweet nothings and drag poor innocent Moe into his harem!
She couldn't stay quiet any longer. She couldn't let Kuroba Akira's shameless ambitions succeed.
But since Anri clearly supported him, she'd have to attack his ideas instead.
"Oh please… 'publish'? Seriously? What, are you looking down on professional authors now?"
To that biting remark, Akira replied calmly in his mind—
I'm not looking down on professionals.
Because I am one.