The next morning.
A brand-new Lexus LS sat parked in front of Fushikawa Bunko's headquarters.
The flagship luxury sedan radiated such presence that every employee who passed by couldn't help but stare.
"Whoa, whose car is that? Top-trim LS, right? Looks amazing!"
"Did one of the directors change cars?"
Before the speculation could spiral further, the driver's side door swung open.
Seiji Fujiwara stepped out.
The passenger door followed—and out came Utaha Kasumigaoka, dressed in an elegant one-piece dress. She'd ditched the maid outfit for something more fitting today.
"Wait, is that Warukawa-sensei?!"
"And the girl next to him… whoa, gorgeous! Is she his girlfriend?"
"Holy crap, he's driving a car worth tens of millions!"
The murmurs swelled like waves around them.
Utaha's cheeks flushed as she instinctively tried to put a little distance between herself and Seiji.
He, on the other hand, ignored every single glance.
He didn't even bother locking the car. He just tossed the keys to the parking lot attendant already waiting at the door. "Park it. Don't scratch it."
"Y-yes, sir! Leave it to me!" The guard caught the keys like his life depended on it, bowing over and over.
Meanwhile, before they even reached the entrance, Sonoko Machida came rushing out of the lobby like a whirlwind, her smile blazing.
"Sensei! You're here! Thank you for making the trip!"
Her eyes flicked to the luxury sedan for just a second. She wasn't surprised. With Seiji's royalties, buying a car like that was more than affordable.
But when she noticed Utaha beside him, she paused, then her expression shifted into a knowing smile. Her warmth doubled. "And this young lady! I didn't get to properly greet you last time. Hello, hello! Please, come in! The Editor-in-Chief's been waiting for you two upstairs!"
She ushered them through the building like they were A-list celebrities, leading them straight to the top floor.
The moment the office door opened, Ryuji Aida strode forward, both hands extended.
"Warukawa-sensei! Welcome, welcome!"
There was no air of superiority, no trace of a boss lording over subordinates—only the genuine warmth of an equal partner.
"You shouldn't have, Chief. Too polite," Seiji said with a chuckle as he shook his hand before sitting casually on the sofa in the guest area.
Utaha sat beside him, stiff and uneasy, watching the surreal scene unfold.
The Editor-in-Chief himself and a senior editor… pouring tea, offering snacks, smiling as if entertaining royalty.
"Sensei," Aida said, laying a file gently on the table, "about the publishing plan for volume two of A Certain Magical Index—our department drafted several options overnight. We'd love to hear your opinion."
Seiji skimmed the papers, then smiled faintly. "I'll have the manuscript for you next month. As for promotions, I'll leave that to you."
"Of course, of course!" Aida bobbed his head eagerly. "Your writing always comes first. We won't intrude!"
Machida, seizing her moment, asked carefully, "Um… sensei, the readers' enthusiasm is sky-high right now. We were wondering if… perhaps we could arrange a signing event for you?"
For most authors, it would be a dream come true. Prestige, publicity, sales, fan loyalty—all rolled into one.
But Seiji didn't hesitate. "Not interested. Too much hassle."
No way. He wrote to enjoy life, not to become a wage slave again. Signings left authors' wrists practically broken by the end.
Machida didn't even flinch at the rejection. And Aida immediately stepped in, laughing smoothly. "Naturally, naturally! Everything depends on sensei's wishes. We'll respect all of your decisions."
Utaha sat quietly, taking it all in.
Her heart stirred with awe—and a bitter kind of resignation.
So it really was true.
When your talent and value reach a certain height… every rule bends to you.
Your "eccentricities" become "the mark of a master."
Your "laziness" becomes "focus on the craft."
Your "rudeness" becomes "refreshing bluntness."
Because you are the rule.
I'm no different, am I? Even I've ended up bending to him. Utaha thought, her emotions a tangled mess.
――――
Sunset.
A small one-bedroom apartment. Rent: barely a hundred thousand yen. Decent enough location.
The living room hung heavy with silence.
On the sofa sat Mrs. Kasumigaoka, pale and weary.
Around her, several middle-aged relatives sat stiffly, their expressions a mix of unease and calculation.
No shouting. No harsh words. Just a suffocating silence.
Finally, Utaha's aunt, Haruko Kasumigaoka, spoke first, her voice lined with fatigue and worry.
"Sister-in-law," she began, her eyes darting away, "please… take care of yourself. We heard you were hospitalized again. We've all been very concerned."
After the hollow courtesy, silence crashed back in.
One of the uncles sighed and continued. "Yes, sister-in-law. But to be honest, we didn't come here lightly."
Haruko seemed to gather courage from that, her tone firming.
"Sister-in-law, it's not that we lack compassion. When big brother—Utaha's father—had his accident, you asked for money. We didn't hesitate. We pooled what savings we had. But now… with your own health failing…"
She paused, her voice softening into an awkward apology.
"We're just ordinary families. We've got parents to care for, children to raise. That money… it wasn't a small sum for us."
The implication was clear.
If something happened to her, who would repay them?
Another relative muttered, "Yeah, my son's about to start university. I was counting on that money…"
College tuition in Japan was no joke.
"We're not here to pressure you, really," Haruko added quickly, aware how heartless it sounded to bring up debt in front of a sick woman. But the words had already been spoken, and she had no choice but to follow through. "We just want to ask… if maybe, somehow, you could pay back even part of it. Enough to give us peace of mind."
Their words weren't sharp. In fact, there was a trace of pleading, of embarrassment.
But reality left them no room to be kind.
Mrs. Kasumigaoka listened quietly, too drained to argue. Too tired to even try.
Her eyes slipped shut. A long sigh escaped.
When she opened them again, dim and resigned, she murmured, "I understand. Give me some time."
The relatives exhaled in relief, their tones softening.
"Of course, no rush."
"Yes, sister-in-law, please rest well."
"Ah, I should get going."
"I've got to start dinner."
"Sorry, we'll take our leave now."
One by one, they fled, clutching their reprieve like guilty children.
Mrs. Kasumigaoka watched them go, her face calm, her heart anything but.
Silence reclaimed the apartment.
"Utaha…"
Her hand trembled as she pulled out her phone, eyes clouded with guilt.
She hovered for a long time, battling herself.
At last, she typed out a short message to her daughter.
[Utaha, I need to discuss something with you. Call me.]