"Then you keep practicing. I need to dive back into my light novel too."
"Mm!"
The feeling of working hard alongside a friend, striving toward their respective goals together—that shared sense of purpose filled Shinomiya's heart with renewed determination. She returned to her voice exercises with fresh energy, quietly murmuring lines to herself in the corner of the room.
And Kuroha Akira, having finally sorted through the emotional fog that had been clouding his judgment, plunged back into the creative abyss.
No problem. With his accumulated experience, he could definitely write this.
He'd consumed countless excellent works in his previous life. All he had to do was draw inspiration from their elements, remix them, and create something new. That was how creation worked, right? Nothing came from nothing.
As he mentally scrolled through the library of stories he'd absorbed over the years, Kuroha Akira felt the mental block crumble. Ideas began flowing like water through a broken dam.
First: the catalyst. Why would a middle school sister start making H-games? It had to be for her brother's sake. That much was non-negotiable. The motivation needed to be pure, even if the subject matter was... impure.
Which meant the root of the problem actually lay with the brother. What happened to him? What broke him so badly that his sister felt the need to intervene through the medium of adult games?
Right. To perfect this light novel, the brother couldn't just be a cardboard cutout for readers to project onto. Yes, he was the self-insert character, the lens through which the audience would experience the story. But that didn't mean he could be a blank slate. The brother's characterization and his personal arc were absolutely crucial—arguably the main underlying plot driving everything forward.
The sister started making H-games for her brother, then gradually grew to love the craft herself. But the initial intention was always to reignite his fighting spirit, to pull him out of the darkness and remind him what it felt like to pursue a dream.
That made logical sense. So what was the brother's problem?
Simple: he'd been a hardcore game otaku who once dreamed of making games himself. But after crashing headfirst into reality—the brutal setbacks, the seemingly insurmountable barriers—he'd given up. Become self-indulgent. Escaped into the very medium he'd once wanted to create.
He'd entered a game company full of aspirations, only to discover the industry was overflowing with darkness. Unscrupulous companies worked him half to death, and the products they churned out were designed solely to fleece players, not to bring joy. The passion got ground down into dust.
This feeling? Kuroha Akira understood it intimately.
It was a bit of personal bias creeping in, sure. But precisely because he carried the scars of working in a game company in his previous life, he could write about this with authentic emotion. The bitterness, the disillusionment, the slow death of creativity under corporate pressure—he'd lived it.
And that was the key. The most touching plots were built on genuine feeling. And the most moving stories were about breaking free from that crushing reality.
Wasn't that what light novels did best? They fulfilled the regrets people carried in real life.
The brother who abandoned his dream and chose to become an ordinary person, escaping reality through eroge and self-deprecation—but because of his sister's intervention, he returned to the world he'd fled. Even if he failed himself, with his sister's genius talent, she could become the producer he never could. In a way, she would embody his dream too.
This also deepened the sibling bond beautifully. Both brother and sister were acting for each other's sake, their motivations intertwined like vines on a trellis.
As for subsequent characters... Right. Games required collaboration. Multiple people with different skills coming together to create something greater than themselves. Why not gather companions to make games together?
Just like in Saekano, the protagonist assembled a harem of creator-girls, each contributing to the project in their own way. That structure worked perfectly.
He could reference Megumi Kato's character archetype too—add a heroine who starts completely indifferent to games, someone who only becomes interested because of the protagonist's infectious passion. And naturally, she'd become the sister's number one rival. Love triangles were essential highlights; the readers expected them.
Since they were making eroge, he could also write some suggestive fan service. H-tinged sibling interactions framed as "research" for in-game scenarios... Nothing too explicit, obviously. This wasn't that kind of novel. But those sensual, awkward scenes? They caught readers' attention like nothing else.
There was also the professional world they'd encounter after committing to game development. A perfect reference was Daikyo Toy Box—that work was practically a microcosm of the Japanese game industry's highs and lows.
Though honestly, Kuroha Akira didn't even need to reference anything here. He'd witnessed enough conflicts during game development in his previous life to last him several lifetimes. Synchronization issues between upstream and downstream teams. Blame-shifting when things went wrong. Tensions between IP holders and illustration staff. Boneheaded operational mistakes. Stupid planners pushing pay-to-win schemes. Pressure from above to compromise artistic integrity for profit margins.
He could even use modern mobile game rhythm issues as major plot conflicts. The way gacha mechanics exploited psychology, the grind culture, the predatory monetization—people in this world would find that stuff fascinating.
But these plots were heavy. Light novels shouldn't get too bogged down in darkness. They needed levity.
So he'd balance it with comedic, absurdist elements. Something like D-Frag!—that chaotic, unpredictable energy would keep things fun and prevent the story from becoming a depressing industry exposé.
The major mid-story setback would make the male lead confront the gap in talent once again. That insurmountable chasm between genius and ordinary person. He remembered how The Pet Girl of Sakurasou handled this—the male lead wanted to make games but constantly felt inadequate next to the genius girl and the prodigy boy Ryūnosuke.
Inferiority. Depression. Then, overcoming.
The sister's breakdown scene was crucial too. He could still vividly recall Yui Yuigahama's breakdown in My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU—how vulnerable and heartbreaking and strangely charming it was. That would fit his yandere-leaning sister character perfectly. The brother discovering his sister in that state, witnessing her raw emotions... It would look like something straight out of a doujinshi. And it would mark the beginning of their relationship becoming truly unusual.
The sister and brother's social circles would expand. Bonds would deepen. They'd gather companions united by the shared dream of creation.
Mid-story, they'd face a disbandment crisis. Cliché? Absolutely. But clichés became clichés because they worked.
The ending would pit them against pressure from a major game company...
Betrayal by companions. The sister's sacrifice. The brother's resolve to see this through no matter what.
Finally, a comeback victory! The satisfying climax readers craved!
Kuroha Akira's thoughts grew clearer by the second, ideas cascading like a waterfall. His fingers flew across the keyboard, the rhythmic clatter echoing through the quiet living room, uninterrupted for what felt like hours.
Shinomiya noticed his intensity and didn't dare disturb him. She even lowered her voice during her practice, not wanting to break his concentration.
...
Done!
After spending the entire night in creative overdrive, Kuroha Akira had completed a rough but comprehensive outline for his light novel.
Basic character settings? Check. Character relationships mapped out? Check. Plot conflicts identified and structured? Check. Subsequent developments planned? Double check.
But this was just the beginning.
His writing skills were still objectively weak. How much he could elevate this outline into a compelling manuscript would determine success or failure. The outline was the skeleton; the prose would be the flesh, blood, and breath.
But that was enough for tonight. The foundation was laid. The next week or two would be spent building upon it, brick by painstaking brick.
Kuroha Akira saved the file and stretched, his spine crackling in protest. He glanced up at the clock.
Three in the morning. In two more hours, the sky would start lightening.
He'd been so immersed in creation that he hadn't noticed time passing at all.
Creation was so cruel... yet so captivating.
Though it was hell, it held an enchanting charm that made it impossible to stop. Like a addictive game you told yourself you'd play for just one more hour, only to realize the sun was rising.
Kuroha Akira returned to his desktop, clicked on the newly created document, and right-clicked to rename it.
Now came the easiest part: naming this new work.
Actually, naming light novels was surprisingly simple. You just took the core concept and shoved it directly into the title. No subtlety required. No need for poetic metaphors or layered meanings. Just put the hook right there in plain sight.
So, the name of this work would be...
"My Sister is Actually an Ero-Game Master?!"
As long as the story's theme was clear, naming it was the simplest step in the entire process.
Finally, he needed a pen name.
Hmm...
His mind drifted to the mischievous nickname Granny Kobayashi had given him. That old woman had a talent for sticking labels on people.
Shirako.
Yeah, that worked.
It sounded like a girl's name. Feminine, soft, approachable. It would give readers that delightful moment of discovery—"Oh? The author's a girl? This makes everything even more exciting!"
The beautiful illusion of a cute girl writing slightly risqué sibling stories.
The truth, of course, was far more mundane. Old men were actually the best at understanding what young virgins wanted to read. That was the cruel, unspoken reality of this industry. Experience taught you things. Lots of things.
Kuroha Akira finished renaming the document.
"My Sister is Actually an Ero-Game Master?!" — Shirako.docx
The light novel that would go head-to-head against Shirai Shiori's submission was officially born.
Now all that remained was to write the damn thing.