Breathing in the faint fragrance that drifted from Kasumigaoka Utaha, Hayashi Maki looked down at the soft, jade-white hand she'd offered and naturally took it.
"I'm Hayashi Maki, first year. My pen name at Fushikawa Bunko is 'Kurosora Twilight.' Pleased to meet you, Utaha-senpai!"
He skipped the surname and went straight to her given name.
Utaha arched a brow—not offended in the least. If anything, she accepted the familiar address.
After a brief shake, Hayashi Maki let go. They had only just met, after all—no point coming off like a lech.
Utaha was a romantic, literary beauty; to win her over, beyond offering concrete help, you had to follow the beats of the Love Metronome. The heroine there, Sayuka, was Utaha herself in all but name.
Once the introductions were out of the way, Utaha tipped her chin. "Kouhai, how about we sit over there?"
She glanced toward a flower bed.
"Gladly."
"The senpai who just rejected a confession is inviting me to sit down? I'm honored," Hayashi Maki teased.
Utaha's lips curved; she stepped off first. They sat together along the edge of the planter, and the beautiful upperclassman's wine-red eyes settled on him.
"Kouhai, what did you think of that confession just now?"
Hayashi Maki stroked his chin. "It was obvious Satō mustered all his courage to confess. Otherwise he wouldn't have run off in tears when you turned him down.
"So why ask me to meet right here and let me witness you rejecting someone?"
Utaha shot him a sidelong look. "Pure coincidence. In your mind, am I really that scheming 'bad woman'?"
There was a touch of wounded humor in it.
Hayashi Maki waved both hands. "No way. If you've read my light novel, you'll know I wrote Tsukimi Miyabi as the best woman in the world."
At that, Utaha's mouth lifted. She knew Tsukimi Miyabi was modeled after herself. The experiences were practically identical—same sleek black hair, black stockings, white headband, stunning beauty—and a genius LN author who'd written a book called Pure Love: 100 Pascals.
In Hayashi Maki's story, Miyabi also hit trouble in volume two, facing the axe; the male lead, a fairly popular industry blogger, spent his own money to promote her work and got it released smoothly.
Pleased inside, Utaha kept her tone lightly amused. "Oh? Is that so?"
In a clear, musical voice with a hint of magnetism, she murmured, "Funny, I recall you having Miyabi duel that flat-chested, twin-tailed tsundere ojou-sama for the protagonist's heart. Does 'best woman in the world' include Hoshino Nagi, too?"
Hayashi Maki gave a dry laugh and brazened it out. "It's only volume one. Letting two vivid heroines show off against each other helps flesh them out. You saw the comments on my account, right? The readers are lively—half say the MC should choose Tsukimi Miyabi, half say Hoshino Nagi. It's a deliberate approach to drive sales.
"For what it's worth, I prefer Tsukimi Miyabi."
Utaha gave the faintest nod. She had plenty of confidence in her own charm. If a man chose a "flat board" over her, she'd assume something was wrong with his head. Someone like her wasn't going to leave future children hungry, after all.
She was happy—but wouldn't show it so easily. Instead…
Utaha leaned in, eyes fixed on him. Her neatly filled blouse, very nearly pressing his chest, and that exquisite face came very close.
"Kouhai, you're not being honest. When you're with Hoshino Nagi, don't you also say she's the best woman in the world?"
"Uh… Utaha-senpai, what makes you think that?"
He swallowed on reflex. It wasn't that his will was weak—Utaha was deliberately closing the distance. A man could only take so much. She smelled too good.
Utaha tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing the clean line of her cheek as she sat back up. A faint blush dusted that perfect face; clearly even she felt shy about using her physical advantages to boldly tease a handsome kouhai.
"Because that's how your protagonist behaves—two heroines showing affection, and he keeps flip-flopping between them. If you don't give a convincing reason for one to lose, you're getting a box full of razor blades from your readers."
Hayashi Maki chuckled. "Great—then I can sell the blades and make more money."
Utaha rolled her eyes. "I'm being serious. What's your plan for the plot? I honestly don't get how you can write something so stomach-achingly stressful—and yet make people need to keep reading to see what happens."
Hayashi Maki shrugged. "Maybe I saw a similar development in a dream. Utaha-senpai, have you heard of Howaito Arubamu?"
"Howaito Arubamu? What's that?"
In this world there was no White Album, so Utaha was lost. Hayashi Maki's lips quirked, and he sketched the story:
Howaito Arubamu—the "White Album school" of heartbreak—is that gut-wrenching setup where the MC wavers between two gorgeous heroines. Later he finally decides who he loves—only for his current girlfriend to see him kissing the other woman. The betrayed girlfriend can only weep: "I was first—why choose her?"
A melodramatic, stomach-twisting triangle.
When he finished, Utaha's look turned odd. "Don't tell me you're going to make your protagonist do that to Tsukimi Miyabi and Hoshino Nagi."
That line—I was first; why choose her?—drips with grief and finality, the heroine's heart breaking. Which would make the MC a scumbag—flip-flopping between two good women and ending up hurting them both.
~~~
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