Nightfall had quietly descended.
A plain, peaceful night ushered people gently into dreams, washing away their day's fatigue. Stars gazed upon the city streets below, flickering with endless fantasies.
Inside her room, Van Gogh had already drifted into deep sleep. Her face was tranquil and adorable, her breathing even and gentle, making one reluctant to disturb such serenity.
Rarely enough, tonight she hadn't stayed awake painting. Usually listless in front of others, Van Gogh seemed to show limitless energy only when painting or eating.
Though she hadn't lived here long, the small room had quickly become yet another nest filled with "art," just like every other place she'd ever inhabited. It resembled a little bird's nest woven carefully from twigs—except here, these "twigs" were all priceless artworks and exquisite paintings, objects that would drive countless people mad with envy.
Fragments of broken light drifted in through the night breeze, unobstructed by the window, gathering gradually and taking form until they solidified into a human figure.
An uninvited guest, yet she saw no wrong, felt no guilt. Altair gazed deeply at Van Gogh sleeping on her side. Those eyes, tinged with blue amidst the red, lost their usual sharpness, rippling softly like autumn waters, gentle as the moonlight illuminating them.
Nervousness, unease, anticipation, joy… Altair reached toward the sleeping figure. Her hands—hands that had always calmly held blades and guns even amidst fierce battles—now trembled slightly.
Her fingers were about to touch the sleeping girl…
And in the next instant, Altair found herself no longer in Van Gogh's room, but within absolute darkness.
It was the endpoint unreachable by light, a mysterious cosmic realm beyond human wisdom and civilization, a distant place ruled by maddened stars.
As if she'd been plucked away from Earth into another universe entirely.
A faint regret flickered in Altair's eyes, quickly suppressed and hidden away. Turning around, she faced behind her. Her lips wore a smile, but her gaze held only icy coldness.
"As expected, you still seek to stop me."
At the end of her sight lay darkness.
Something existed there—also "black," also "shadow," yet deeper than the surrounding darkness. It shifted endlessly, forever changing. Human language was incapable of describing it, rightly named "indescribable," "unspeakable," "unnameable."
No answer came, yet Altair suddenly sensed an overwhelming threat, one that could erode even her soul. The intense dread of having her life clutched firmly by another enveloped her entire being!
She raised her hand, instantly grasping a saber and a machine gun as they materialized from nothingness.
In the next moment, an eerie, invisible assault surged forth. Untraceable by human eyes, its workings incomprehensible, yet its terrifying strength was unmistakable. Anything struck would instantly disintegrate, erased from physical existence into absolute nothingness.
The space, which refused even a hint of light, abruptly erupted into a violent energy wave. With Altair at the center, a pale blue spherical shockwave collided against the invisible assault.
Both attacks cancelled each other out, simultaneously shattering.
Altair staggered slightly, evidently impacted by the blow, but she lifted her lips into a faint smile.
"You've grown weak. Even your strike was blocked by me."
"…"
The dark shadow still did not respond, prompting doubt as to whether it could speak at all.
Altair shook her head, smiling softly, "No, you're not weaker—I've simply grown stronger. The corrective force of the world is weakening. My [Holopsicon] is beginning to show its true power. You can no longer easily defeat me like back in Sunshine City."
As if her goal was achieved, Altair began dissolving slowly into countless particles of light.
Hostility surged from every direction, like a spider's web trapping prey. Altair narrowed her eyes slightly, voice deep and cold.
"You wish to stop me? Do you have that luxury now? Will you unleash a horde of monsters like back in Sunshine City?"
"No, you won't. Because your Master is here. Because Selesia-san, Meteora-san, and everyone else is here. If those monsters rampage, your disguise will crumble. Everything you've planned all this time will collapse... That wouldn't be what you wish, correct?"
"In tales starring heroes, the dragon always falls by the final act. Your arrogance is the dragon's weakest scale, destined to be pierced by the hero's blade. Await that day, sitting upon your false throne made of gold and bones."
Altair's form was almost entirely gone now; even this darkness couldn't contain her.
Suddenly, a voice echoed out.
"In your memories, are the monsters from back then truly my doing?"
Her smile vanished instantly, replaced by a deep frown.
"What do you mean...? No, this is another trick, isn't it? This is your specialty—but your tricks are worthless against me. None of your words are trustworthy."
These eyes will never be clouded by illusions. I shall walk this path unwaveringly; nothing can shake my resolve.
Altair completely vanished, the last particle of light departing.
The shadow did not stop her… or perhaps, it couldn't.
Beneath the shadow, ripples quietly spread, as if it stood upon a lake of ink. Slowly, it sank, deeper and deeper, until completely submerged by the black "waters." It emerged again from a different shadow—back inside the room.
Gazing toward the bed by the window, Van Gogh remained peacefully asleep, undisturbed. Only her posture had worsened, kicking aside part of the blanket to expose one smooth little foot.
A slender, pale hand slowly reached out, gently covering Van Gogh again with the blanket.
Soft moonlight seeped through the window, dispersing some shadows, illuminating Shimazaki Yuna's profile, cloaking her in a silvery veil delicate as cicada wings.
...
"Hikayu! It's me! Please marry me—!"
"Kyaaaa—!!"
Currently harassing Hoshikawa Hikayu, receiving a shoe stomped into his face but still showing blissful enjoyment, was the writer and original creator of Stellar☆Galaxy, Ohnishi Nishio, invited today by Kikuchihara Aki and the others.
Many people online casually called out "wife" upon meeting, but few dared carry this bravery into reality—OhnishiNishio was undoubtedly one of those rare few.
He and Nakanogane Masaaki were friends, and it was Nakanogane who'd invited and explained the situation.
Kikuchihara Aki originally hadn't planned to introduce him so soon, but upon hearing Hoshikawa Hikayu was now in the real world, Ohnishi Nishio had eagerly jumped into a taxi and rushed straight here.
One might call him honest or simply shameless—his unrestrained grin had made Kikuchihara and the others hesitate long before finally allowing the meeting, hoping a famous creator would show at least some restraint… but reality proved them naive.
The moment Ohnishi Nishio arrived, he immediately leaped forward. Kikuchihara Aki and Nakanogane Masaaki barely managed to hold him back.
"Don't be like this, Ohnishi-san! She might be your creation, but now she's in this world as an independent individual with rights!"
"Perfect! Absolutely perfect! Let's take pictures! Come on, a group photo!"
His excitement only grew, until even Selesia couldn't endure anymore, finally stepping in with a firm punch to his head.
"Hey! As her creator, shouldn't you care a little more about her!?"
Ohnishi suddenly fell quiet, frozen in place. Just when everyone thought he was genuinely reflecting on Selesia's words…
"What's happening…? This dream-like space…"
Ohnishi's gaze swept slowly over Hoshikawa Hikayu, Selesia, Meteora, and suddenly he grew uncontrollably excited. "An endless dream constructed of my wives! That's exactly what this is!"
With Ohnishi Nishio babbling deliriously, the girls—including Selesia—wore expressions as if witnessing something filthy, but Ohnishi either didn't notice or didn't care, only growing more ecstatic, thoroughly lost in his own world.
"Anything can happen! Please marry me!"
Forgetting the pain completely, Ohnishi rushed forward again, startling Selesia—
Bam!
"Oooow—!"
The first sound: Ohnishi crashing heavily to the floor.
The second: his painful wail.
Frozen mid-counterattack, Selesia stared at the man before her. Charon was equally frozen, silently staring down at the writer he'd reflexively tossed to the ground, speechless.
"I'm sorry, sorry! Are you okay?"
Charon hurriedly helped Ohnishi up. Having seen someone rush at Selesia, his body had reacted before his mind. A seasoned fighter like Charon clearly outmatched a sedentary otaku like Ohnishi Nishio, genuinely worrying he'd seriously injured him.
But Ohnishi just laughed generously.
"Oh dear, how careless. I didn't realize Selesia's partner was here. Naturally, proposing marriage in front of her man leads to this!"
His words instantly set Selesia's face aflame.
"Ch-Charon isn't my partner!"
The words slipped out before she realized it. Selesia glanced nervously at everyone, especially Charon.
Recalling something Mizushino Sōta had mentioned, she softly, hesitantly added:
"A-At least…not yet…"
Selesia's obvious attempt to hide her feelings was completely pointless; everyone knew about the affection between the heroine Selesia and the hero Charon—just like they all knew Hoshikawa Hikayu liked Makoto.
Who exactly are you putting up that tsundere act for, anyway?
"Ohnishi-san, we invited you here specifically to discuss how to strengthen Hoshikawa-san's abilities, and we've devised a concrete plan. Would you please cooperate?"
"...Okay."
Once Kikuchihara Aki put on her serious face, Ohnishi Nishio was instantly subdued by the aura she radiated.
"Even so…"
Staring at the steaming coffee on the table, Meteora spoke slowly, her voice flat and emotionless, "Hoshikawa-san's setting is just an ordinary female high school student. Even if we want to enhance her abilities, changes to her character would be difficult for the audience to accept."
"Eh? Why's that?"
Ohnishi Nishio suddenly chimed in. Unlike everyone else, there wasn't the slightest trace of worry on his face.
"Isn't this really simple? Piece of cake."
"What do you mean, 'piece of cake'? Do you actually have an idea?"
Nakanogane Masaaki stared at Ohnishi Nishio in confusion.
Taking a sip of his coffee, Ohnishi Nishio smiled and said, "There's no need to worry at all. Don't forget what kind of game mine is—it's a galgame! What makes a galgame popular? Whether the heroine is attractive, charming, and whether the plot is interesting enough."
"As long as the heroine is attractive and charming, and the story is interesting enough, things like combat power, special abilities, and logical consistency—nobody really cares! Even if I have the heroine break the fourth wall and directly communicate with the player, or allow her to retain memories after reloading saves, it's all fine! It's a game; it doesn't have to be that strict. People who nitpick over details wouldn't play it in the first place."
Ohnishi Nishio spoke confidently, his demeanor relaxed and assured, as though he had everything completely under control from a thousand miles away… But sadly, with that face, and after the stunt he pulled earlier, no matter how sensible his words sounded, earning trust was nearly impossible.
It was a matter of aura, of first impressions—like how no one would ever believe a goblin wielding a rusty tetanus blade could defeat Super Saiyan Son Goku.
Yet he was Hoshikawa Hikayu's Creator, after all. Since he was this confident, they might as well let him try.
The issue with Hoshikawa Hikayu and Ohnishi Nishio seemed resolved for now, but the others had their own headaches to deal with.
Anazuma Tenkyuu, for instance, was tasked with giving Chikujoin Magane a clear weakness to allow her to be defeated easily.
And then there was Yatouji Ryou, stubbornly refusing to compromise on character settings even as the world teetered toward destruction, still unable to provide a satisfactory plan.
And Matsubara Takashi—Charon's sudden appearance had doubled his workload.
It was already deep into the night. Matsubara Takashi was still working, brainstorming plans until his mind felt like a tangled mess. Deciding to take a break, he left his studio to brew himself a cup of coffee.
Anyone in this line of work had long become accustomed to sleepless nights spent chasing deadlines. Inspiration was irrational, fleeting, often demanding capture late at night, naturally acquainting creators with coffee's bitterness.
And naturally acquainting them with a gradually receding hairline…
"Haa…"
Matsubara sighed deeply, unclear whether his lament was for the world heading toward annihilation or his thinning hair.
Coffee in hand, he headed back to his studio.
On the way back, as he rounded a corner…
"Eh? Van Gogh? You're still awake?"
Matsubara Takashi looked in surprise at the figure standing in the hallway.
"Ah… Ah, Matsubara-san… Good evening. The night sky is really beautiful today, isn't it? Does Matsubara-san also like looking at the stars? Ehehee… Van Gogh couldn't really fall asleep…"
Van Gogh stood in the middle of the corridor, her eyes entirely filled with gorgeous pink hues.
"Matsubara-san… Are you also unable to sleep? Did you hear some voice from within the spiraling starry sky? Did you see sunflowers inside shattered dreams? Aaah…Ah? Are you awake because you're troubled by something?"
"Then…then, please let Van Gogh help. Van Gogh can definitely help! You must let Van Gogh help… Ehehee…"
She nervously clutched her sleeves, eyes flooded with shimmering pink. Her smile blossomed gently across her face, like a flower slowly opening its petals.
"Please…trust Van Gogh. Van Gogh will surely be of use."
---
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