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Leo blinked, staring at the monitor. The digital canvas before him was complete.
He checked the time. It had been exactly one hour.
In his previous life, a piece of this complexity—thick impasto strokes, complex lighting, high-resolution textures—would have taken him three hours of grueling labor, followed by another two hours of micro-adjustments. But now? He had simply projected the high-fidelity image from his mind onto the screen and traced the mental projection. His hand, steady as a surgical robot, hadn't hesitated once.
"Efficiency is a double-edged sword," Leo muttered, stretching his arms until his spine popped. "I'm done so fast I actually feel... bored. That's a new one."
He leaned back in his ergonomic chair, enjoying the hum of the air conditioner. The advantage of his enhanced, multi-threaded thinking was obvious: he could render art while planning the next chapter of his novel simultaneously. The downside was the drain. His brain felt like a CPU that had been overclocked—hot and buzzing. But as long as he managed his "threads," the fatigue was acceptable.
He saved the file: Project_Demon_King_Key_Visual_Final.psd.
He closed Photoshop and looked at his trusty, battered graphics tablet. It had served him well, but it was time for an upgrade. He pulled up Amazon Japan.
His eyes lingered on a high-end Wacom Cintiq Pro—a massive LCD drawing screen that cost over 60,000 RMB (approx. 1.2 million yen). In his past life, buying one would have meant eating instant noodles for six months. He used to drool over the specs in shop windows.
Now? He had ten million yen in the bank and a lucrative contract with Shinazugawa Bunko.
Add to Cart.
Just as he was about to switch over to an anime streaming site to kill some time, his phone buzzed on the desk. The screen lit up with a LINE notification. The profile picture was a stylized book cover.
[Kasumigaoka Utaha]: (Leo-kun, are you working? ┴┤･ω･)ﾉ )
Leo picked up the phone, a small smile touching his lips.
[Leo]: (Just finished the promotional art. I'm resting now.)
[Kasumigaoka Utaha]: (Want to play World of Warships?)
Leo raised an eyebrow. He glanced at his desktop icon for the game.
[Leo]: (If you want to play, you'll have to wait a bit. I need to spend some money. My ships are too low-tier to division up with you.)
[Kasumigaoka Utaha]: (Eh? Spending real money on WoWs is a scam. It's not worth it. Don't force yourself. (:3」∠) )
[Leo]: (It's fine. Money can't buy happiness, but it can buy Free XP. Give me twenty minutes to sort out the account.)
Leo logged into the game. His European server account was decent, but on the Japanese server, his highest ships were the Tier VI American cruiser Dallas and the Tier VI British cruiser Surrey. Utaha, he knew, played at the top tier.
He opened the premium shop. He didn't flinch. He bought a massive pack of Doubloons, then converted a stockpile of Elite Commander XP into Free XP. The numbers ticked up satisfyingly.
Unlock. Purchase. Equip.
He skipped the grind entirely and bought the USS Baltimore, the Tier IX American Heavy Cruiser.
It was a beast of a ship—heavy AP shells, solid armor, and the all-important Surveillance Radar. He didn't have enough resources left to fully upgrade the modules, so he was running a "stock" hull, which put him at a disadvantage in hit points and rudder shift.
Internal Monologue: A stock ship at Tier IX is usually suicide. But with my reaction speed? I can make it dance.
[Leo]: (Done. I'm in a Tier IX Baltimore. Invite me.)
[Kasumigaoka Utaha]: (Okay! ξ(＊＞◡＜) )
Leo plugged in his headset and switched to the voice chat channel.
"Testing. Can you hear me, Senior?"
"Loud and clear," Utaha's voice came through. It sounded different than usual—less guarded, more relaxed. "I've sent the invite. Check your port."
"Got it," Leo said, clicking accept. "If I'm in a Baltimore, what are you bringing?"
"I'll bring the Midway," Utaha said. The Tier X American Carrier.
"Let's go with the Hakuryu instead," Leo suggested, checking his ship's stats. "My Baltimore is stock hull. I need you to have the burst damage of the Japanese torpedo bombers to finish off what I radar. If we play the long game with the Midway, I might sink before the match ends."
"Fine, fine. Hakuryu it is."
Leo leaned into the mic. "So, this is the real Kasumigaoka Utaha, huh?"
In school, she was the "Ice Queen"—aloof, untouchable, always reading literature in the corner. But here? In the digital space? She was a "Himono Onna"—a "Dried Fish Woman." A girl who was professional in public but a lazy, comfortable, hardcore otaku in private.
She had no social life. Her "friends" were books and games. In a way, she was exactly like Umaru-chan. And honestly, Leo preferred this version. This version was real.
"Shut up and ready up," Utaha grumbled, though there was no bite in it. "Let me show you the power of the sky."
The queue timer ticked. Match Found.
The loading screen appeared: Ocean Map. Domination Mode.
"Ugh, Ocean," Utaha complained. "Nowhere for you to hide, Leo-kun. You better dodge."
"I'll be fine," Leo said calmly as the battle started. "Just don't be reckless this time. Remember the Montana incident?"
"Hey!" Utaha's voice spiked in pitch. "That was tactical!"
"It was suicide," Leo corrected, steering his heavy cruiser toward the C-cap. "You tried to drop torpedoes on a full-health battleship while sailing your hull in open water to 'draw fire.' You ate a full salvo of 406mm shells and exploded."
"Nonsense! What do spectators know?" Utaha argued, the sound of her clicking furiously audible in the background. "If I hadn't drawn fire, our destroyers couldn't have pushed the cap! It was a noble sacrifice!"
"You died in the first three minutes," Leo deadpanned. "And the Montana survived to kill half our team. It was a throw, Senior."
"Tsk. Just watch me this time. I'll carry you."
Leo smiled, watching his radar cooldown timer. "Sure. Just keep the fighters over my head, or this stock hull is going to become a submarine."
They moved into formation, the digital waves crashing against their hulls. For two people who barely spoke at school, on the virtual battlefield, they were perfectly in sync.