kscans

Chapter 917 - Heat Felt, Rooms Apart

And so, five minutes later…

"—Hngh."

Following the first blow, I was once again on the receiving end of a cushion bombardment.

Where, you ask? To the face, of course.

And where was this taking place? Not in reality, but here in the virtual world. At the entrance to her familiar atelier.

"…I pushed through my sleepiness to answer your request, and this is what I get?"

"Hmph."

And so, catching the soft weapon with both hands as it slid down my face, I sent a half-lidded glare toward today’s leading lady, who was lounging on the sofa in the center of my newly opened field of vision.

She seems to think she can get away with anything today. She doesn’t say it, but the infuriating thing is, she’s absolutely right—anyway, it was past two in the morning. The third round of the party was taking place in the virtual world.

Having delivered my present in reality (my job was done), I tried to return to my room, but Nia stopped me. She whined for another hour, which I refused—no, impossible, sorry, I’m sleeping. She then haggled for thirty minutes, which I also refused—impossible, no, sorry, I’m sleeping. After a fruitless back-and-forth…

“Then you can sleep, so just come and see me,” she’d said. And so here I am, thanks to that wonderfully selfish demand.

"Ngh!"

"‘Ngh!’ is not an invitation…"

Where exactly was I supposed to sit on a one-person sofa? Today, I was powerless against Nia, who was slapping the chair she already occupied, beckoning me over.

It’s true that I’m sleepy. It’s also true that I feel like I could pass out the second I close my eyes.

…But, well.

Shwip, grab, thud, poof—

"…A carnivorous plant?"

"Nhehe…"

Stand up, capture, throw in, close the lid.

With a series of magnificent actions that belied her low-status avatar, Nia took advantage of the moment I approached, captured her prey on the sofa, and climbed on top, looking utterly pleased with herself.

Frankly, I could have easily dodged it. Even with my sleepy head, casually brushing off the feeble artisan’s rampage would have been a piece of cake. …But, again, well.

"Thirty minutes."

"Then that’s forty-five minutes in virtual world time."

"Don’t get difficult on me."

Just for today, this much is fine.

Even without her using the present I just gave her—my resigned acceptance is probably, most likely, at least half because my brain is already asleep.

That must be it. There’s no doubt.

And the fact that my hand is automatically stroking the head snuggling against my chest…

I’ll just chalk that up to being sleepy, too. And so—

"What are we going to do for forty-five minutes?"

"Talk."

"I feel like I’m going to run out of steam and pass out in about ten minutes."

"Hey, come on… Are you really that tired? Did you work that hard for me?"

"I worked super hard. Making the cake was, like, the fifty-second hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life."

"What’s with that ranking? It sounds impressive when I think about it, but it’s hard to feel happy about."

"Just appreciate the level of effort based on the fact that an amateur managed to produce that level of quality."

"Well… it was amazing. It really did look like a jewel. I was a little taken aback, honestly."

"I also thought, ‘How appetizing is a blue cake, really?’"

"I think it works for sweets, doesn't it? How did you make it?"

"First, you make the parts."

"Ah, you know what, never mind. It sounds like a pain."

"Listen to me. Listen to the ridiculous tale of my struggles, born from the absurd idea of ‘I’ll make a cake shaped like an aquamarine and surprise her.’"

"It was beautiful, I was happy, and it was delicious!!!"

"Ah, right… I’m glad to hear it…"

"Hey, don’t close your eyes. No sleeping yet, you’ve still got forty-five minutes."

"Hey, start the countdown. It’s already been a few minutes, right?"

"So, why can you cook so well? Or, I guess, why can you do everything so well?"

"Ignoring me… I can’t do everything. You know there are plenty of things I can’t do."

"Like not being able to swim?"

"I can swim. I just can’t handle being in giant puddles that exist in nature."

"Want to go to a pool sometime? You can teach me how to swim."

"That’s impossible, you’d be knocked out of commission by your own swimsuit."

"Hmph… are you sure you wouldn’t be the one knocked out of commission?"

"I said you. Don’t think I’d let myself be made a fool of twice."

"Cheh, what an un-cute comeback. So, why are you so multi-talented?"

"I think ‘multi-talented’ is an overstatement… but, well, I guess it’s because I gained a lot of experience from part-time jobs?"

"I hear you say that sometimes, but did you really work that many different jobs?"

"Well, yeah. When you’re trying to skillfully fill your free time while studying, just having one or two part-time jobs isn’t flexible enough…"

"Heeh."

"On top of that, during long breaks like summer vacation, I’d take on any decent-paying short-term job I could find, so I naturally ended up moving between a lot of different workplaces."

"Hoh."

"That said, once I found a place that was convenient and had a good atmosphere, I tended to stick around. So from around the end of my second year of high school, my jobs were pretty much fixed. I had to study for entrance exams, too."

"Hmm."

"You’re not that interested even though you asked, are you?"

"Hey, that’s not true. But if I had one request…"

"What?"

"It’s fine to get absorbed in conversation, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stop moving your hands."

"…You know, constantly stroking someone’s head takes a surprising amount of stamina."

"What are you talking about, [Acrobat]-sama, the stamina monster? …So? Your part-time jobs. What kind did you do, specifically? I really am curious."

"I mean, I didn’t do anything that unusual. I worked at a convenience store… though that was way back at the beginning, and I quit immediately and put it on my blacklist. But yeah, the standard stuff, like restaurant staff, or retail at stores where the work wasn’t too complicated…"

"What about the short-term jobs?"

"In the summer, I worked at a beach house."

"What were you doing there, Mr. Afraid-of-Puddles?"

"It’s fine, okay? As long as I’m just looking from a distance, it’s not scary."

"So, just working as a store clerk and stuff? Does that really make you so multi-talented?"

"Again with the overstatement… well, you see. In my case, the connections that branched off from my part-time jobs ended up scattered all over the place, I guess."

"Hmm…?"

"It feels weird to say it myself, but for some reason, I have a tendency to be well-liked at my ‘workplaces.’"

"…………"

"Don’t look at me like that. I really had no luck with that kind of thing. And the people who liked me were mostly older. Not just a little older, like older brothers or sisters, but way, way older."

"Important people?"

"…Well, to put it plainly, yeah. And since they liked me for the work I did at their workplace, it means they liked me as a ‘person who works.’"

"I suppose that’s how it would be."

"What’s with that face? I was just trying my best, stop it. …Anyway, since they were all people in positions to hire others, their networks were all incredibly wide. I guess you could say I often had opportunities for ‘introductions’ or ‘requests,’ one way or another."

"Hmm?"

"Like short-term, or even super-short-term jobs? There were times when I’d get some pocket money for doing something like a personal favor. Something like that."

"…What’s this, the story just got a little interesting. For example?"

"I did a lot of things… but an easy-to-understand one would be a private tutor."

"Huh?"

"That shift from ‘sounds interesting’ to ‘sounds uninteresting’ was really fast, wasn’t it???"

"Was it a boy? A girl? A cute girl?"

"Stop with the three choices that sound like you’ve already decided the answer."

"A cute girl?"

"…Look, that doesn’t matter. The people I told my situation to during interviews knew I was studying hard on top of working. They thought it would be a good way to review while earning a little money if the student was close to my age. It was like, a hundred percent pure goodwill."

"So it was a cute girl, close in age."

"………………Let’s set aside whether she was cute or not, since that’s a subjective opinion. I told you, ‘nothing like that happened.’ If anything, I was disliked, so you can rest easy."

"That sounds so incredibly fake that I think forty-five minutes is about to become four hours and fifty minutes."

"That’s morning. Give me a break."

"Ehh…? What could you possibly do to make a girl dislike you?"

"What in the world do you think I am? All this stuff in the virtual world is just a series of miraculous coincidences. I’m basically a scrub with pitifully low experience with the opposite sex."

"But you became friends with Hiyo-chan in an instant."

"That was because I had the foundation of trust as ‘the Acrobat.’ The Haru Kasuga of my high school days was just a stupid boy who charged headfirst toward his own desires without a care for those around him."

"…I kind of want to see that version of you, though."

"Heh, no thanks. —Anyway, it’s an undeniable fact that after the first day’s greeting, she barely spoke a word to me or even made eye contact. Which means I’m innocent."

"……………………You know, about that…"

"What is it?"

"…Nah, well, it’s fine. I don’t really get it."

"Eh, what is it…"

"By the way, ‘close in age,’ how old was she?"

"One year younger—ow! You…! A fist to the nose is not okay!"

"Hmph! Your hand stopped, you know!!!"

"This girl, seriously…!"

"What’s this, you had a perfectly good青春, didn’t you?! What was all that about a ‘gray-colored youth’?"

"I told you nothing happened! If anything, it was mentally exhausting! Just try to imagine it: an introvert boy desperately trying to teach a younger girl who won’t even look him in the eye! It was nothing short of hell, I tell you!"

"I never even got to be tutored by you, my one-year-older senpai!"

"What on earth are you talking about?! You must be sleepy!"

"That’s it, I’m mad! Pet me more, hug me tighter! And while we’re at it, you’re going to confess everything! Every single one of your past crimes from high school!!!"

"What past crimes—hey, stop it! Quit it…!"

And so, and so, the night deepened.

Two people, in a one-person sofa. As for when, and which of them, was the first to start breathing the soft rhythm of sleep…

""……………………—""

Neither I, nor Nia, remembered.

---

It was a nice birthday.

By the way, our protagonist isn’t the dense type; he just has a slightly buggy self-awareness. He can tell if someone likes him or not. Therefore, the fact that his one-year-younger junior he was tutoring, “Osanai Nagomi, 17 years old, the only daughter of the couple who runs Izakaya ‘Nagomi’ where the protagonist last worked, a black-haired girl with a medium-length, straight-banged haircut who attends a different high school and serves as the student council secretary, a literature-type who is generally quiet but is actually strong-willed and stubborn,” had a crush on the protagonist does not exist.

Because this is after the route divergence. Too bad.