Chapter 37 — Sweet Dreams
[This time, your choice leaves me genuinely unsure how to evaluate it. However, before I raise a few questions, please allow me to first explain the ending of this simulation.]
[Under your interference—and your almost "self-destructing truck forcing a seedling to grow" style of reckless acceleration—Gotō Hitori did indeed grow at an astonishing speed. That said, behind this growth, she bore suffering and inward psychological torment that most people could hardly imagine.]
[At the same time, those emotions constantly pulling at her also became nourishment for her creative talent. Much like many creators who are both brilliant and deeply pained, the artistic persona she developed attracted every sensitive and perceptive listener.]
[Tempered by time, Gotō Hitori gradually became a creator with a modest but solid following. Whether it was guitar solos, writing lyrics herself, or even singing them personally—none of it posed any difficulty for her.]
[Many record labels extended olive branches to her. Yet at the same time, she and her former companions slowly drifted apart.]
[After experiencing your death, an indescribable rift had already formed within Kessoku Band. While they were still able to perform together during high school, once they entered university their gatherings grew fewer and farther between. Eventually, when graduation season arrived, the band disbanded.]
[Kita Ikuyo returned to ordinary life and found a relaxed, low-stress job, treating guitar and singing purely as hobbies from then on. Ijichi Nijika took over her sister's work, continuing her search for companions to form a band with. Yamada Ryō moved between various bands as a bassist, but always quit cleanly once the initial novelty wore off.]
[Among them, the one who had originally been considered the least promising—Gotō Hitori—achieved accomplishments beyond all expectations. Her creative ability made her a treasure that countless singers and bands competed to claim. Though she had yet to reach the level of a world-class superstar, she was already regarded as one of Japan's foremost creative genius guitarist girls.]
[Although your methods are difficult to judge, in the end you still fulfilled Gotō Hitori's "dream"—even if, from that point onward, genuine smiles rarely appeared on her face.]
[Thus she lived on for more than ten years, even several decades. Gotō Hitori became the dazzling person she had once envisioned, and even gained fame and wealth to match. Her interviews and achievements, like those of other rock stars, were recorded through all kinds of media—and even decades later, people would dig them out from the corners of time to savor them again.]
[But, like other sensitive geniuses plagued by melancholy and self-consumption, the overwhelming attention from the outside world, combined with the unresolved thoughts she always carried, left her deeply suffering.]
[When her life was nearing its end, the final interview of her life was released.]
"Everyone else is living colorful, brilliant lives. Only me—trapped inside a cocoon—melting away in a blurry gray zone. I'm just a caterpillar. I'll never break out and become a butterfly."
[Ending achieved: To You, Whom I Love and Hate.
You successfully fulfilled Gotō Hitori's wish, and ensured that she would remember you for her entire life, never forgetting you—even though a large part of that was exchanged through hurting her. But the opposite of love is not hate; it is indifference. From this perspective, you—who died—became eternal in her heart.]
[Achievements unlocked: "Live Like a Gunflower, Die Like Nirvana," "Level-10 Scholar of Bassist Jokes," "Childhood Sweethearts," "This Bassist Isn't Very Cold," and a total of ten achievements.]
[Story completion: A. Impact rating: S+. However, I must remind you…]
The system's paused voice snapped the boy—whose five senses were submerged in darkness—back to awareness.
[Your synchronization rate in this simulation was only C. Therefore, taken as a whole, the overall evaluation is not ideal—and that is also one of the issues I wish to discuss with you.]
"Eh… I kind of expected this run to score poorly, but I didn't think it'd be this low."
[After all, one of the personality traits in your base settings was "saying one thing while meaning another." Objectively speaking, you did perform many actions that aligned with this trait. However, the image you ultimately presented was not what this world's 'Narumi Tōru' should have been.]
"Eh… caring about someone but always hurting her instead—doesn't that also fit the setting of 'being unable to honestly express one's feelings'?"
[You're exploiting a loophole in the wording, aren't you?]
"The rules you gave were flexible to begin with. As long as I can justify it, it's not really breaking them, right?"
[…Although I've never seriously asked for your opinion before, there is something I want to know.]
The system fell silent for a rare long moment. Apparently, even it had things it found confusing.
[What kind of attitude do you hold toward this simulation, exactly?]
"Same as the first impression you gave me when we met—an annoying game I can't refuse, but with insanely tempting rewards."
Narumi answered almost without thinking.
"I more or less get what you're puzzled about. You think I failed at proper role-playing, and that I arbitrarily changed a lot of people's life trajectories using overly extreme methods."
[You knew all that, and still…?]
"Because at the end of the day, a simulation is just a simulation—and it's a single-player game that only I'm immersed in."
If Narumi were conscious enough to make physical movements, the system would surely have seen him shrug.
"I know there are players like that—people who are nice to every NPC, treating them like real people. I could be that kind of player too. But if the story I want requires doing something excessive to NPCs… then to reach the ending I'm curious about, I'll do it—even if it goes against real-world morals and conscience."
Surely plenty of people have done similar things—clearing routes they shouldn't have, just to unlock every ending.
After all, NPCs are nothing more than data. Especially data that gets wiped after the ending, never to be seen again.
[So you knowingly chose to have Yamada Ryō deliver that letter to Gotō Hitori, even though you understood it would deal her a severe emotional blow?]
"Yeah. Because this game only had two objectives—fulfill the wish of the simulation's central character, Gotō Hitori, and make her unable to forget me. Right?"
Narumi knew perfectly well how cruel his actions were. But in the end, this was just a game—he simply chose the most efficient strategy.
"I died at the moment she hated me the most. Then I used that letter to awaken Bocchi's guilt toward me, while also turning it into the psychological support that kept her from collapsing—pushing her step by step toward her dream. That way, Bocchi would remember me for the rest of her life."
By using his own death to stimulate Gotō Hitori's growth, he could also ensure she would never stop thinking about him. The method was cruel and had an enormous impact on her personality, but it accomplished two goals at once.
[But did you ever consider whether these self-appointed 'motivations,' or the public attention you forced onto her through your death, were truly what Gotō Hitori wanted?]
"I know they weren't. But that wasn't my top priority."
The only things he cared about were making "Gotō Hitori becomes famous" and "she can't forget me" objectively true.
As for how those goals were achieved, Narumi wasn't picky.
"No matter the method—as long as it works and I get the result I want, that's enough. Once the simulation ends, everything's over anyway."
If Gotō Hitori were a real person, he would never have done something this excessive to her. But when facing nothing more than a virtual NPC made of data, there was no need to let morality restrain his steps.
"As for failing at role-playing… yeah, I can't really deny that. I have trouble grasping the right balance for being 'tsundere,' you know. Maybe one day I'll go observe some people who say one thing and mean another, study them a bit. Then next time I randomly draw a similar role, I'll probably do better."
Everything he'd experienced so far was nothing more than a save-deleted game. And in the end, the only person truly affected was him.
That was why Narumi Tōru didn't quite understand what the system was so conflicted about.
[You may not have noticed it yourself… but your actions were planned entirely according to rational logic, not emotional logic.]
[I understand now. Your psychological state—and sometimes even your moral standards—are derived from external models and requirements given by others, which you then extrapolate and imitate. When those requirements become unclear, you prioritize achieving the objective above all else…]
"Why are you suddenly analyzing my personality? That's kind of annoying."
[Because that is precisely why your synchronization rate was only C.]
[It's because you treated this simulation purely as a game that you couldn't fully immerse yourself in the role you were meant to play. You failed to empathize with the 'future you' in this world, relying instead on high-efficiency methods that harmed other characters, while ignoring the experiences you should have genuinely felt. That might work in other 'games,' but allow me to remind you—]
[—this may be a simulation, but it is not merely a game for fun.]
[After all, every action you take in the simulation will, in some way, influence reality.]
"…Influence reality?"
Narumi, who had been perfectly at ease until now, couldn't stay calm anymore. He had always believed the simulation was a completely isolated virtual instance, separate from the real world.
[As for the exact nature of that influence, I cannot tell you in detail. However, my failure to inform you of this beforehand led you to develop those misconceptions—and that is something I also need to improve.]
"Hey, why didn't you say something like that earlier?!"
The feeling was like punching Sadako full force in a horror movie—only to discover she was just an ordinary overworked staff member under the costume.
[Mm… regarding the consequences of this, I will work overtime to help clean up after you. However, roughly seventy percent of the cost will have to be borne by you personally.]
"Where's the bad-review button… I want to leave a one-star rating…!"
[And in the next simulation, in order to increase your sense of realism, I will no longer allow you to participate from a god-like player's perspective. I will adopt a completely new format, different from the previous two. Please prepare yourself mentally.]
"Hey! Don't just ignore customer feedback and pile on new rules! When I took sleeping pills you didn't let me fast-forward, and dying actually hurts a lot, you know?!"
[In any case, although your role-play synchronization did not pass this time, the overall score…]
Ignoring Narumi's complaints, the system paused briefly before delivering a rather unexpected evaluation.
[…is A.]
"Eh?"
[After all, strictly speaking, you did achieve the objectives of this simulation—though you could have done even better if you had fully immersed yourself.]
That's because you didn't explain things clearly from the start.
[Furthermore, you made far too many 'small moves' during the simulation that had nothing to do with the main objective.]
"Ah, did I?"
If the simulation could see his expression, the boy would definitely be whistling while deliberately averting his gaze right now.
[Your failure to build sufficient bonds through deeper interaction with the target character is indeed a flaw. However, those 'small moves' you thought I wouldn't notice—are actually worth bonus points.]
"Eh…?"
[Because the consequences of your personal bias resulted, unprecedentedly, in the emergence of a 'second protagonist' within the simulation. Don't tell me you've already forgotten what you did?]
As for the ending of that second protagonist, the system did not explain it to him.
After all, only Narumi Tōru himself knew what kind of "selfish intent" had been mixed into this simulated journey—and it was also one of the very few moments where he had poured in genuine emotion.