"I'm so screwed!"
The moment she remembered that the doujinshi she'd drawn might have been seen by Shiina Mashiro, Shirai Mio couldn't help burying her face in her pillow.
The System had once issued a task requiring her to discuss doujinshi-related topics with Mashiro. She'd abandoned it on the spot—specifically so she wouldn't end up looking weird to Mashiro.
But now...
There was still a chance to salvage this, though.
She'd used her pen name on that doujinshi. A pen name that even Mashiro didn't know about. So Mashiro shouldn't be able to figure out it was hers.
As for why such a doujinshi was sitting on her bookshelf—well, she could always claim it was reference material.
That sounded perfectly reasonable.
At that thought, Mio finally let out a quiet sigh of relief.
When it came down to it, she had no one to blame but herself. She hadn't put the doujinshi away right after bringing it home, and now she was paying the price.
While Mio's thoughts spiraled, notifications kept popping up on her chat app. Most of them were from the artist group chat.
Eromanga Sensei: "Who's got lewds? The busty, pale, sexy kind. No lewds and I'm gonna die!"
WannaCuddleCuties: "Where are the cute girls? I need cute girls. No cute girls and I'm gonna die!"
Eri Kashiwagi: "If I'm not mistaken, this is supposed to be an artist group chat?"
WannaCuddleCuties: "Technically, it's an 18+ artist group chat."
Eromanga Sensei: "So asking for lewds in here is perfectly normal."
Xiaobai: "If possible, I'd like some too."
Eri Kashiwagi: "..."
Looking at Mio's message, Eriri—who'd been drinking water—nearly spit it all over her monitor. This wasn't even the first time she'd seen Mio post something like this.
Judging by this alone, nobody would ever connect this person to that poised, silver-haired beauty.
If the people at school who idolized Shirai Mio ever found out she was like this in private, she could only imagine the faces they'd make.
Then again, she wasn't exactly in a position to criticize.
Come to think of it—Mio was coming to her house tomorrow. Should she do something to prepare?
Eriri looked around. As long as she wasn't in crunch mode, her room stayed fairly clean. And given how close she and Mio were, there was really no need to fuss.
She'd just keep things normal.
Meanwhile, after wrapping up her chat with her degenerate groupmates, Mio sat down to draw.
She wasn't working on doujinshi this time. Instead, she was drawing pretty girls—some lewd, some not. Just her usual practice routine.
Once finished, she uploaded the pieces to "Xiaobai," the social media account she'd opened not long ago.
Despite being new, the account already had several dozen followers. Every time she posted new work, a decent number of comments rolled in.
Some people had even reached out about commissions. She was still on the fence, though, and hadn't accepted any yet.
Before she knew it, the clock had ticked past eleven at night. Mio was still drawing when she heard the sound of a door opening. This time, she didn't bother hiding anything—what she was working on was completely SFW, so there was nothing to worry about.
Moments later, Mashiro appeared in the bedroom doorway. After getting Mio's acknowledgment, she pushed the door open and walked in.
Looking at Mashiro in her pajamas, Mio blinked. Even with all her observation-boosting cards active, she still couldn't spot any difference between the Mashiro standing before her and the one from before.
After a moment of hesitation, Mio decided to take the initiative: "Um, Mashiro—did you happen to see a manga on my bookshelf?"
"You mean the lewd one?"
Hearing those words come out of Mashiro's mouth felt deeply strange to Mio, but she nodded lightly and said, "That manga—I borrowed it from a friend. For reference."
"But didn't Mio draw it?"
"Huh?!"
Seeing Mio's stunned expression, Mashiro continued, "Because it's obviously your style."
Mio realized her mistake. She'd completely forgotten about Mashiro's status as a genius artist. With those eyes of hers, recognizing Mio's art style was entirely within the realm of normal.
"Is there any chance—just maybe—that someone else's style happens to look like mine?" Mio made one last desperate attempt.
"But I wouldn't get that wrong." Mashiro paused, seeming to think of something. She furrowed her brow in mild deliberation, then continued, "Well... I guess maybe I was wrong after all."
Looking at Mashiro's face scrunched up with the effort of keeping a straight face, Mio was almost touched. Mashiro—who normally said whatever came to mind without a filter—was actually telling a white lie for her sake.
"If—and I mean hypothetically—that manga was something I drew, what would you think?"
"Mio's drawing technique has improved so fast."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
With Mashiro's definitive answer, Mio hesitated for a moment, then decided to just come clean: "Fine, I drew it. The reason I never told you was mainly because I was afraid you'd think I was some kind of pervert."
"Pervert?"
"Never mind, never mind—it's getting late. Let's go to sleep!"
A flustered Mio pushed Mashiro down onto the bed, then skillfully pulled the covers over her. She tried to act like nothing had happened, but the embarrassment of having confessed painted a faint blush across her cheeks.
Lying in bed, Mashiro hugged the covers and watched Mio. "Mio, you're blushing."
"No I'm not. You're seeing things." Mio slid under the blanket and reached out to flick the lights off.
The room plunged into darkness. Mashiro could no longer see Mio's reddened cheeks—and Mio, in turn, didn't notice the faint curve that had appeared at the corner of Mashiro's lips.
A good while passed before Mio finally managed to calm down.
Just as she was about to close her eyes and go to sleep, Mashiro's voice suddenly whispered in her ear: "Mio, have you done the things in that manga?"
Mio, who had just barely settled her nerves, nearly choked.
"No, I haven't. Why?" she mumbled, face buried in the blanket.
"Then how were you able to draw it in such detail?"
"Please don't ask about that."
"Mio, you're embarrassed."
"I am not. I am absolutely not."
...