The hallway grew silent as the final bell rang.
Students poured out in waves of laughter and chatter.
Raizel remained at his desk, eyes lowered, listening.
Waiting.
Across the corridor, Eriri stood with her friends — animated, expressive, completely absorbed in conversation.
She did not look his way.
Not once.
When she passed his office, her steps were deliberate. Calculated.Avoiding his gaze.Avoiding him.Two days after the incident, he approached her after class.
"Eriri." Raizel called out.
She froze. For a fraction of a second. Then her expression hardened.
"I have somewhere to be, Sensei."
Her tone was polite.
Too polite.
She slipped away before he could continue.
Raizel did not pursue.
He would not corner her.
Not when she felt cornered already.
A week passed.
Then two.
Every afternoon he waited for a moment alone.But Eriri was never alone.
She lingered with classmates. Joined study groups. Left campus quickly. Entered rooms just before teachers arrived.
It was deliberate. She knew exactly when he could and could not speak freely. Raizel waited for any opportunity he could get so that he could explain the last incident's matter.
He would not force an explanation upon her.
He would give her space.
Thirty days passed.
Thirty days since he last saw Sayuri in person.They texted each other frequently talking about their day and other simple stuffs. Sayuri always telling him not to overwork himself and also to let Eriri's matter run it's natural course.
"Sigh, Eriri really isn't giving me a chance at all" Raizel said helplessly on his way back home.
The evening air was cool as he walked home, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable.
Ring Ring Ring
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
"Raizel speaking."
There was a brief pause on the other end.
Then a calm, refined female voice.
"Good evening. Am I speaking with the author who submitted under the initials C.E.R.?"
"I am." replied Raizel.
"This is Haruno Yukinoshita from Fujikawa Bunko."
He stopped walking. The streetlights flickered on above him.
"I'm calling to formally inform you that your work, Sword Art Online, has taken first place in this year's light novel competition."
Silence.
Not because he was shocked.
But because he had completely forgotten.
Between Eriri's distance and Sayuri's quiet messages, the competition had slipped from his mind.
"I see," he replied calmly.
On the other end, Haruno blinked.
That was it?
No gasp.
No excitement.
No dramatic disbelief.
"…You don't sound surprised."
"I had confidence in the manuscript."
A faint pause.
Then a soft, amused exhale.
"I suppose first place suits you."
Her voice carried composure. Intelligence. A certain cool sharpness.
Then she added:
"…This may sound strange, but your voice sounds familiar."
Raizel resumed walking.
"Familiar?"
"Yes. Have we met before?" Haruno asked disbelievingly.
"I do not believe so."
"…You're certain?"
"If we had met in person," he replied evenly, "I would remember."
There was the faintest shift in her breathing.
"Then perhaps I am mistaken."
"Perhaps."
Professional silence settled between them.
"We would like to discuss serialization," she continued. "The editorial department is very interested. I would also like to be personally assigned as your editor, if you permit it."
"You may."
Another small pause.
"You're remarkably composed, Raizel-sensei."
"It is simply a phone call."
A soft chuckle.
"I look forward to meeting you in person."
"As do I."
They ended the call.
Raizel lowered his phone slowly.
Sword Art Online. He had submitted the entire first volume in one draft. At the time, it had been nothing more than testing the waters to achieve a little fortune in this life.
And then—
Eriri.
Sayuri.
He had forgotten entirely.
The streetlight hummed above him.
His crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
Haruno Yukinoshita.
Why did that name sound so familiar? Although he recognizes the name from the original story of Oregairu, but he feels like .... Well whatever he was going to meet her anyways no need to overthink things.
25 Days earlier
Fujikawa Bunko editorial office
Haruno Yukinoshita leaned back in her chair and stretched slowly, joints protesting after hours of stillness.
Another manuscript.
Another predictable premise.
Another "ordinary boy gets overpowered ability in another world" narrative.
She closed the file.
Generic.
Cliché.
Derivative.
Her desk was buried beneath digital and printed submissions from the annual competition. As one of the lead editors, she had the unenviable task of reading through every serious entry.
Because once in a while— A classic hides among mediocrity.
And if they missed it, that failure would be theirs alone.
She adjusted her glasses and sighed.
"Next."
Her eyes scanned the list.
Sword Art Online
Author: C.E.R.
She paused.
"…Game fantasy?"
The title alone suggested VRMMO wish fulfillment. She could already predict the structure: overpowered protagonist, cute party members, tournament arcs, light conflict.
Still, procedure was procedure.
She reached for her eye drops, squeezed a cool drop into each eye, blinked twice, and placed her glasses back on with renewed focus.
"Let's get this over with."She opened the file.
And froze.
The submission length indicator caught her attention.
"…The entire first volume?"
Most contestants submitted sample chapters.
This author had uploaded a complete volume.
Bold.
Or arrogant.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
She began reading.
[There are no respawns in this game. When you die in-game, you die in real life.]
Her scrolling finger stopped. Her posture straightened. That was not a generic opening.
That was a statement.
A threat.
She continued.
The world was introduced cleanly. Efficiently.
The NervGear — a full-dive gaming helmet capable of transporting human consciousness into a virtual world.
Not fantasy magic.
Neural technology.
Grounded. Almost believable.
Haruno's eyes narrowed with interest.
Then the protagonist appeared.
Kirigaya Kazuto.
Fifteen years old. Former kendo practitioner under his grandfather. Withdrawn. Intelligent. Beta tester.
Alias: Kirito.
She leaned forward.
The backstory was minimal yet sufficient. No excessive exposition. No melodrama. Just enough to frame his mindset.
Then—
The launch day.
Millions logging in.
The anticipation.
The floating iron world.
Aincrad. A massive sword-shaped fortress suspended in the sky, one hundred floors tall.
Haruno found herself turning pages faster.
When the players discovered the logout button had vanished, her pulse quickened.
Then the sky darkened.
A red-robed figure appeared above the main plaza.
Kayaba Akihiko.
Creator of the game. Pioneer of neural link systems.
His calm explanation was chilling.
No logouts.
No escape.
The NervGear contained a mechanism that would emit high-voltage microwaves if forcibly removed.
Instant brain death.
And if a player died in-game—
The same fate awaited them in reality.
Haruno felt a chill crawl down her spine.
Her fingers unconsciously tightened on the mouse.
This was not a cheerful VR adventure.
This was a death game.
Survival fiction layered inside technological speculation.
Psychological horror disguised as entertainment.
She kept reading.
The mechanics of leveling, party formation, combat balance — they were integrated seamlessly into narrative flow.
No info-dumping.
It felt natural.
Alive.
Then Asuna appeared.
Not a damsel. Strong. Determined.
Romance was subtle. Earned. Slow-burning.
Haruno realized something quietly:
The author understood restraint. The battles carried tension. The world felt expansive. The stakes were absolute.
And beneath it all— There was loneliness.
Isolation.
The human cost of survival.
By the midpoint of the manuscript, she had completely forgotten she was "evaluating."
She was reading.
Three hours passed unnoticed. Her tea sat untouched. Her back ached.
She didn't care. When she reached the final scene of Volume 1, she exhaled slowly.
Silence filled her office.
She blinked.
Then glanced at the clock.
"…Three hours?"
She immediately clicked "Next Chapter."
Nothing.
She refreshed.
Nothing.
She scrolled.
Nothing.
Her eyes widened.
"That's it?"
She checked the file again.
He had uploaded the entire Aincrad arc.
And stopped.
No teaser.
No author note.
No social media link.
Just—
Silence.
"This can't be happening…"
For the first time in years, Haruno Yukinoshita felt something unprofessional.
Frustration as a reader.
She removed her glasses, rubbed her temples, then stood abruptly.
She grabbed her tablet, the evaluation sheet, and the manuscript summary.
Without hesitation, she left her office and walked briskly down the hallway toward the Chief Editor's room.
Knock.
Without waiting long—
She entered.
"We need to prioritize this entry."
Her usually composed voice carried unmistakable urgency.
The Chief Editor raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Haruno placed the tablet on his desk and met his gaze steadily.
"If we let another publisher acquire this author, it will be our loss."
And for Haruno Yukinoshita—
That statement was not made lightly.