Kuroba Akira suddenly regretted coming to the Literature Clubroom today—if he'd known things would turn out this way, he'd have avoided it entirely.
But did Shiroi Shiori's manuscript really get rejected? Why would it? That shouldn't have happened...
In fact, Akira had considered the possibility of her manuscript getting turned down, but he'd quickly dismissed the idea as unlikely.
When traditional literary authors ventured into writing light novels, it usually ended up like a pro casually bullying newbies. Of course, sometimes it backfired due to overconfidence or ignorance, resulting in trash-tier work. But that typically happened when arrogant writers underestimated the genre, diving headfirst without understanding the market.
However, the current environment for light novels in this world was still relatively forgiving, not overly focused on cheap gimmicks. Even if Shiori had written something niche, it should have found an audience.
Moreover, if the editors knew her reputation as the youngest-ever winner of a literary award for short fiction, they'd surely jump at the chance to publish her work. A currently active JK author alone would practically guarantee decent sales.
Most importantly, Akira had seen Shiori's unwavering effort firsthand. These past few weeks, she'd immersed herself deeply in reading countless light novels, demonstrating both enthusiasm and respect for the medium.
Although he hadn't yet confirmed Shiori's Talent due to her persistent habit of wearing white gloves, he'd read her award-winning short story. Regardless of whether it was entertaining, her prose and descriptive skill alone far surpassed that of an average author. Akira was certain she had at least an A-level—possibly even S-level—writing Talent.
So, now Akira felt more curiosity than triumph. What exactly had Shiori written that caused her manuscript to get rejected? Had she perhaps crossed some invisible line?
While Akira was busy analyzing the reason behind her failure, Shiroi Shiori was still trapped in the crushing feeling of defeat.
"I lost... Completely and utterly lost..."
"Shiroi-san..."
Shiori didn't even give Akira a chance to speak, furiously shouting at him instead:
"Don't you dare pity me! Don't you dare comfort me! Just mock me already! Go ahead, humiliate me!"
She'd clearly fallen into complete self-abandonment, leaving Akira at a loss for words.
Seeing Akira's conflicted expression, Shiori forced out a bitter laugh:
"Heh... Yeah, that's right... You don't even need to insult me verbally anymore. After all, you're about to witness the most shameful moment of my life anyway... I'll fulfill my end of the bet. A loss is a loss."
She'd long since resolved not to run away from the consequences.
Shiori turned toward the worried-looking Momo beside her:
"Momo, you should head home first."
"Shiori…"
"Go home!"
"Uu..."
Momo shrank in fright, clutching her bag tightly to her chest.
She knew staying here would only make Shiori feel more humiliated.
But what saddened Momo most wasn't being shouted at—it was that, as Shiori's closest friend, there was absolutely nothing she could do to help her. She had no choice but to let Shiori face humiliation alone. No, worse—she didn't even have the right to stay and watch, because Shiori would surely never want her to witness her in such a disgraceful state.
As Momo passed by Akira, she cast a tearful glance toward him, seeming as though she wanted to say something—but ultimately biting her lip and staying silent. She quickened her pace, fleeing from the clubroom without another word.
Akira sighed heavily. Great, now in Momo's eyes, he'd officially become the scumbag bullying her best friend... Can we really still collaborate after this?
After Momo left, only Akira and Shiori remained, standing silently and tensely in the clubroom.
Akira's mind raced, frantically searching for ways to smoothly defuse the situation.
Maybe he could start from her rejected manuscript itself.
Perhaps it was an issue of publisher choice? He could say, "Ah, Shiroi-san, you just sent it to the wrong publisher! That publisher doesn't even print light novels!"
He'd start by identifying some external cause, reassuring her that her manuscript wasn't rejected due to lack of skill, but rather misfortune or other factors outside her control.
Yes, think carefully—there must be a way out!
To salvage the situation and end things peacefully, Akira glanced at the letter in Shiori's hand, hoping to find some excuse.
Unfortunately, the publisher Shiori had chosen was also Hurricane Bunko, and worse still, the editor who'd replied was none other than Mori Keima himself. Apparently, Mori personally reviewed submissions from newcomers.
Glancing over the letter, Akira quickly understood its contents: Mori had gently explained that Shiori's writing wasn't bad at all. The problem was simply that the subject matter didn't align with the current market trends, and while it could be published, projected sales wouldn't be very high.
Additionally, Mori mentioned having heard of Shiori's reputation and admired her talent greatly. In his view, publishing this particular manuscript might tarnish her rising reputation. Thus, he'd regretfully declined her submission.
The letter ended with encouragement, gratitude for her submission, and a sincere wish to meet her someday, hoping she'd continue producing even stronger works in the future.
After reading this, Akira fully grasped Mori's intentions.
Mori was deliberately protecting a promising young author's reputation, wanting to prevent her from shattering her halo of talent prematurely. Instead, he wanted to maximize the benefit of her reputation.
Just as Akira wanted Shion to debut at her peak, Mori similarly hoped to launch Shiori's career with a stronger, more impactful work—not a mediocre one. Publishing something subpar now would be akin to killing the golden goose.
Any other editor probably would've published her immediately, but Mori Keima always considered deeper implications than an average editor.
Ironically, Shiori's existing literary reputation had backfired, causing Mori to set even higher standards—leading to her current rejection.
"You see, Shiroi-san, the editor himself said your writing's already publishable quality, so this was just bad luck…"
Expressionless, Shiori coldly cut him off:
"I've already talked to Mori-san by phone. He mentioned there's another author around my age who submitted a highly praised manuscript scheduled for publication this November. He even suggested I take a look at it…"
Shiori stared sharply, fiercely at Akira.
"That person... is you, isn't it?"
"…"
Mori Keima, you blabbermouth!
But it was unavoidable—this was bound to happen once Shiori picked Hurricane Bunko.
From Mori's perspective, two talented young authors had approached simultaneously. It was natural for him to compare them to each other.
Akira averted his eyes, attempting to muddle through:
"Um... It's not necessarily me, right? There are actually lots of students submitting light novels these days…"
"I specifically asked Mori-san if that author requested to appoint their own illustrator. His exact response was: 'How did you know that? Do you know Kuroba-kun personally? Are you perhaps classmates?' Then, I was certain he meant you."
Damn, she's smarter than I thought. To think she'd confirm it with a trick question!
"We both submitted manuscripts to the same publisher. Yours was met with enthusiastic praise, while mine was considered merely average... Is there even room left for excuses?"
"…"
This time Akira genuinely couldn't find a single word in response.
Did he really have no choice but to make her strip?
Maybe compromise and let her just do a simple dogeza apology?
At that moment, Shiori stepped forward and stood directly in front of Akira. Raising her head, a complex expression on her face, she softly said:
"…You, come home with me."
"Oh… Huh?"