After their conversation and the brief resting period, Kuroha prepared to resume polishing the first volume of his light novel. The remaining tasks stretched before him: adding the outline for subsequent volumes, drafting discussion points for potential editors, and formatting the manuscript for optimal readability. If he pushed through today, he could submit everything tomorrow.
As he settled back into his chair, he noticed Shinomiya hadn't moved to resume her voice acting practice.
"Shion, didn't you mention this morning that you wanted to work on Little Red's performance today? Finished already?"
Over the past week, Shinomiya had successfully completed voice imitations for both Little Red and Seiko, achieving ninety percent similarity. Her Seiko impression had reached the point where Kuroha couldn't distinguish it from the original—yesterday, while writing, he'd heard Seiko's voice emanating from the magical girl anime playing nearby, and for a disorienting moment thought he was hallucinating. Looking up, he'd found Shinomiya reading along with perfect synchronization.
He knew talented voice actors could switch voices fluidly. He knew Shinomiya possessed natural aptitude. But indistinguishable similarity after only five days of practice? That exceeded even his optimistic projections.
Not yet... Shinomiya's voice carried a strange hesitation. I want to rest a while longer...
The real reason: her shorts remained damp, the wet sensation still unmistakably present.
But even she recognized this excuse was thin. Kuroha continued working diligently; she couldn't justify slacking off.
I could practice while sitting here, she offered. But I'm afraid of disturbing you, Akira-kun.
"It won't bother me. The intensive writing phase is done—subsequent work doesn't require the same immersion. Practice next to me. I can listen and provide feedback."
Okay. Please point out my shortcomings, Akira-kun.
"I'm quite strict, you know." He smiled. "First, let's check progress. Give me your hands."
Okay.
Shinomiya extended her hands obediently, palms up—like a student awaiting judgment, nervous but trusting.
She'd grown accustomed to these daily hand inspections. Kuroha claimed he could perceive her progress through her palms. She didn't understand the mechanism, but she believed him completely. After all, when they first met, he'd chosen her based solely on examining her hands.
While presenting them, she secretly watched his expression.
On Wednesday, when he'd checked, a happy smile had spread across his face, followed by praise for her improved acting. But the following two days, his expression remained neutral—indicating minimal progress. Those days, she'd worked twice as hard.
She wanted to see him smile again. That made all the effort worthwhile.
This desire explained her current nervousness.
And today, her efforts had materialized into visible results engraved on her left hand.
Voice Acting Lv1
There it was!
Voice acting proficiency had finally appeared!
Meaning: on the path of the voice acting profession, Shinomiya Shion had shed the label of "outsider" and officially become a newcomer who'd crossed the threshold.
Kuroha's face lit up with genuine excitement. He snapped his fingers, pointing at her triumphantly.
"Great! You're officially not an amateur anymore! You're now qualified to approach a voice acting agency!"
Eh...? R-Really? Does this mean I can become a voice actor now?
Shinomiya's joy burst forth like water from a broken dam, her medium-sized chest heaving with emotion.
"Whoa, hold on." Kuroha raised a calming hand. "You absolutely have debut-level ability now. But remember my original plan? The Tounosaka Voice Actor Training Program?"
Yes. She nodded firmly. I remember.
"Good. That means we don't stop here. I won't send you to any agency yet—you'll continue working through the goals I've set. When the timing's perfect, I'll help you choose the right agency. Don't rush, Shion."
He worried sudden success might make her overconfident, leading to premature contract signing. Better to stabilize her mindset first.
Unnecessary concern. Shinomiya trusted his words unconditionally.
I understand. I'm not impatient. I'll keep working hard!
Yosh yosh yosh... Perfect!
His light novel progressed smoothly. Shinomiya's proficiency climbed steadily. If this pace continued, by second year of high school he'd have his first pot of gold, finally escaping poverty!
The dream of living off a woman grew increasingly tangible!
Kuroha's internal celebration was interrupted by Shinomiya's hesitant voice.
Um, Akira-kun... since I've made progress... could I ask for a reward?
"You know I'm as broke as you are."
I don't want money. She shook her head quickly. Not a foot massage either... just... if Akira-kun could pat my head? When I was good as a child, my mother would pat my head as reward...
The request tugged at something in Kuroha's chest.
Her mother didn't pat her head often enough? Didn't provide sufficient affection?
This explained so much. Shinomiya had grown up love-starved, which drove her attention-seeking behaviors and those little gestures designed to attract his notice. It also explained her intense obedience—subconsciously believing that only "being good" earned rewards and benefits.
Yes, this made manipulating her easier. But relying on childhood trauma carried risks. If even simple head pats couldn't satisfy her growing needs, she might eventually...
"Head patting, huh." Kuroha considered. He'd patted the Class President's head before, wondering how Shinomiya's silky black hair would feel. Opportunity for comparison arrived sooner than expected.
"Okay. If it makes you happy."
He placed his hand on her head, gently stroking from crown to nape, fingers threading through beautiful dark strands.
Mm...
Shinomiya closed her eyes, savoring the reward earned through effort. Every ounce of attention focused on that hand, letting her body memorize the wonderful sensation.
Unlike the stimulating foot and leg massages, head pats felt... safe. Reassuring.
She wanted this to last forever.
But like a captivating novel opening, head pats sparked anticipation for subsequent chapters.
It would be even better if he hugged me...
Or if I could hug him...
Rest my head on his shoulder...
Rub my cheek against his chest...
Press my body against his...
More intimate contact...
Once born, these thoughts couldn't be suppressed. They returned repeatedly, lingering at consciousness's edge.
I want to... hug him...!
I want to... kiss...!
Ugh...!
Shinomiya felt ashamed of these impulses, but she could no longer deceive herself.
She knew what this was.
Knew it wasn't allowed... yet couldn't suppress it.
What do I do...
Since meeting Akira-kun...
I'm becoming greedier and greedier.
The girl's desires expanded wildly. Age-appropriate erotic fantasies rose from her mind's depths like bubbles, bursting one by one, dyeing her thoughts pink.
She recognized this feeling.
Growing up watching her mother fall in love repeatedly, she understood the 'essence' of this impulse perfectly. It was what she'd hated most, what she'd never understood, what she'd treated as a negative example to avoid at all costs.
But now...
I can't control it anymore. I understand completely.
The box sealing her heart had no locks left.
And the person who destroyed those locks wasn't Kuroha Akira.
It was herself.
She knew what this was.
Her eyes could no longer tolerate anyone but him... this perception distortion stemmed from love.
Getting his attention felt like receiving the entire world... this emotional explosion was called love.
Mom...
It seems we really are mother and daughter.
So I'm a love brain too.