In the days after she submitted her manuscript, Utaha was in high spirits.
In her heart, she pictured Love Metronome as a pearl finally polished, waiting for the right jeweler to recognize its brilliance and show it to the world.
Seiji Fujiwara noticed the change in her, but he stayed perfectly calm, saying nothing.
Even after confirming with Machida that she'd only fed Utaha polite words, he didn't bother bursting her bubble.
After all…
A girl brimming with youthful confidence had its own flavor.
There were even certain positions Utaha used to refuse outright that she now agreed to, just because her mood was so good. Before, she would've shut him out and played dead.
What a pity. Seiji sighed inwardly. This version of Utaha won't last long.
Which only made him savor her more.
It got to the point Utaha cursed him as a beast, and the two of them ended up taking a few days off.
Time flew, and soon the results day arrived.
On the [2ch Light Novel Board], a thread exploded with activity.
"It's here, it's here! Kadokawa's award results are out!"
"The official site's down, anyone manage to get in yet?"
"Damn it, I've been refreshing for five minutes and it's still spinning!"
In her study, Utaha sat ramrod straight at her desk, eyes fixed on the screen.
Her posture radiated composure, but her tightly clenched hands betrayed her nerves.
The spinning loading icon on her monitor finally gave way—
A bold headline appeared: [The 6th Kadokawa Fantasy Poetry Award · First Round Selections]!
Her heart hammered.
She held her breath, eyes scanning down the list.
One name. Then the next.
Not there.
Still not there.
Her chest sank lower with every scroll, though a stubborn spark of hope remained.
Maybe it's sorted by pen name… "Kasumi Utako"… that should be under K.
She rolled the wheel again, combing from top to bottom.
But no matter how many times she checked, there was no "Kasumi Utako."
And no Love Metronome.
"…What… no way."
Her face froze, all her joy evaporating.
"Machida-san said it had so many strengths… so why… why was it eliminated?"
Hands trembling, she scrolled further.
Below the winners was another list, one mentioned in the contest details: [Works Not Selected in This Round (Partial)].
Some works with "potential" but not meeting requirements would be posted publicly, alongside editorial comments.
Utaha bit down hard on her lip and clicked it.
Her eyes instantly locked on one line.
[Author: Kasumi Utako. Work: Love Metronome. Result: Round One—Failed.]
Boom.
Her mind went blank. Her body stiffened.
Round one. Failed.
She hadn't even passed the very first gate.
She refreshed the page again and again, but her name and her title stayed carved there, crushing every illusion.
"No… I don't believe it! This has to be a mistake!"
Shame and fury surged inside her.
Like a drowning girl reaching for driftwood, she clicked into the public listing.
She had to see.
See if anyone—any reader at all—recognized her work.
Maybe Love Metronome was simply too refined, a high-quality niche.
Clinging to that sliver of hope, she found the entry.
But then she read the comments.
Her blood ran cold.
First comment: "What is this, literary syndrome? Did the author submit to the wrong contest?"
You idiots! This is called delicacy, it's called prose! Utaha screamed inside.
Second comment: "Three pages in, I fell asleep twice. Is the author a hypnotist? For god's sake, the LN market is brutal right now, could you at least read what's selling before writing this garbage?"
That's just because you're shallow, you can't slow down to appreciate the beauty of words! She bit her lip until it hurt.
Third comment: "This is called Love Metronome? My heart nearly flatlined. Nothing but endless inner monologues, dragging on forever. Can we please get some conflict, some plot movement?"
Lightning shot through her. She couldn't breathe.
The fourth, most vicious comment landed the killing blow:
"Hahaha! I'm calling it! This year's award for Most Boring Work goes to 'Kasumi Utako'! Congrats, sensei, you managed to kill my enthusiasm for LNs completely! Go back to writing pretentious literature and stop poisoning our scene!"
The words stabbed her chest like a knife.
At that exact moment—"ding."
A new email popped up in the corner of her screen.
Sender: [Kadokawa Contest Committee].
"The committee…?"
Utaha blinked. Then a faint light returned to her eyes.
Did they realize it was a mistake? Are they going to explain?
With shaking hands, she opened it.
But the contents only dragged her deeper into despair.
[Dear Kasumi Utako-sensei,]
[Thank you for participating in this year's Kadokawa Fantasy Poetry Award. We have carefully read your submission, Love Metronome.]
[First, allow us to acknowledge your strong command of language. Your prose is elegant, your emotional descriptions detailed. You clearly have a solid foundation as a writer.]
[However, after thorough evaluation, we regret to inform you that your work's pacing, conflict, and commercial appeal fall far short of the light novel market's current needs. Put simply, your story is "not engaging enough," lacking the pull to keep readers turning page after page.]
[To help promising newcomers such as yourself grow, our editorial team has prepared a reading list that may inspire your future creations. We wish you the best in your writing journey.]
Attachment: [Recommended Reading List]
Utaha clicked it open with trembling fingers.
The list read—
That Time I Got Reincarnated as Slime, Only to Be Stored as Demon Lord Rations
My Senpai Can't Possibly Be a Sadistic Queen, Absolutely Not!
Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon, Only to Get Axed by a Yandere Goddess?
My Wife Is an Online Dragon Overlord, But Offline She's My Mute Little Sister
Every single one was a title she despised—cheap, flashy, shallow, crass.
But these trashy works were being held up as models for her to study.
Her face turned pale, then red.
It was like being slapped in the face, over and over, until her cheeks burned.
That night, Utaha was a hollow shell.
Even the thing she hated most—being grabbed and fondled during dinner—she didn't resist.
Her body sat there lifeless, no spirit left inside.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk…"
Seiji clicked his tongue. But even he lost interest seeing her so crushed.
For the next few days, he hung up a ceasefire flag, letting his kouhai rest and recover.