Utaha Kasumigaoka sat at her desk, her hands moving slowly across the keyboard of her laptop.
She typed out a line of dialogue for the second female lead.
"Clearly I was the one who fell in love with you first. I was also the first to carry your child. So why… why in the end did you choose her instead of me?!"
After finishing, she looked at it again. It didn't capture the intense conflict she had imagined. With a helpless sigh, she pressed the BACKSPACE key and deleted the entire sentence.
"No, no. The dialogue here shouldn't feel this flat. It doesn't convey the fierce drama that filled my mind when I outlined this volume. When I was drafting the outline, the plot felt so thrilling. I even thought it was perfect as the buildup before the final volume. And now that I'm actually writing it, none of that feeling is coming through at all."
After muttering to herself, Utaha clicked her tongue irritably. Fortunately, the soundproofing in her apartment was excellent.
She tried writing several different versions of the line, but none achieved the effect she wanted. Growing increasingly frustrated, she pressed BACKSPACE again and deleted everything she had just typed.
Writing novels was like this. Sometimes it wasn't that the author didn't want to be more efficient. It was that even if she wanted to be, she simply couldn't. The biggest problem was that she clearly knew what kind of plot should come next, yet the words she wrote just didn't feel right. They failed to capture the sensation she had when she first conceived the scene in her mind.
Of course, most of the time it was more like, "I've written five whole characters. I'm exhausted. I'll just check my phone for a bit." And once she picked it up, she would scroll for hours—mobile games, short videos—before she knew it, afternoon had turned into evening, evening into midnight. Meanwhile, the word count in her document remained unchanged.
Today had been no different.
When she woke up that morning, she had been full of determination. She had sworn to herself that she would write one thousand words today.
Then she lay in bed watching anime all day, lazing around until evening. Only after dinner did she suddenly remember that she was supposed to be writing.
So she suppressed her urge to keep watching anime, opened the red laptop on her desk, and clicked into the Word document.
And then she ended up staring blankly at the empty page because of that one line of dialogue from the second female lead. She knew exactly how the plot should develop next, but that one sentence—no matter how she wrote it—kept dragging down her typing speed.
She tried and tried, yet every version still felt like it was missing just a little emotional punch.
Just where was that tiny missing piece?
Utaha crossed her arms over her chest. Her delicate, bare feet—unclad in socks—tapped lightly against the floor. Her watery eyes stared fixedly at the Word document on the screen, hoping inspiration would appear.
If Kotomi were here and heard the soft sound of Utaha's toes tapping against the floor, she would definitely comment, "What a pleasant sound. I'm satisfied already."
Ten minutes passed…
"Ah, forget it. My brain feels like it's about to start smoking, and I still can't figure out the perfect line to express the conflict in this scene. Fine, I won't write it for now. I just handed the manuscript for Volume Three to Sonoko anyway, so there's no need to rush Volume Four. Volume Four… I'll just wait until this time next year to write it."
The moment she thought that, Utaha felt that her reasoning was flawless.
In Machida Sonoko's eyes, she was practically a living pigeon. If she didn't delay the deadline a few times before submitting, that wouldn't be her style at all.
Because of that, whenever Machida Sonoko set a deadline for her, she would always deliberately schedule it a little later than necessary. Even so, when the deadline arrived, Utaha would still delay as usual.
On January 31st this year, when Utaha celebrated her birthday, Machida Sonoko's gift to her had been a cute chibi pigeon figurine.
She was already a full-fledged pigeon in her editor's heart. If she suddenly submitted on time, wouldn't that betray Machida Sonoko's thoughtful habit of pushing her deadlines back? Besides, submitting on time simply didn't suit the image of a pigeon.
After all, based on her understanding of Machida Sonoko, if she ever submitted on time, her editor would definitely say, "See? As long as you try a little harder, you can meet deadlines just fine." Not only would she stop pushing the deadlines back for her, she would probably move each manuscript's deadline even earlier. And when Utaha wanted to request an extension, she would likely be rejected without mercy.
Ever since Love Metronome went on sale, she had maintained the image of a deadline-delaying pigeon throughout the first three volumes. Since she had already been a pigeon for so long, she might as well continue being one.
Being a pigeon was comfortable. No need to worry about deadlines or final cutoffs.
With that thought, Utaha felt more and more convinced by her own logic and shut her laptop.
She stretched lazily, picked up her phone, and complained, "Wow, time flies. I remember it was eleven when I sat down and opened the computer. Now it's already one in the morning? I'll watch two more episodes of anime and then go to sleep."
Just as she was about to put her phone down, Mai Sakurajima suddenly sent her a LINE message.
Mai Sakurajima: [Utaha, are you asleep?]
Utaha raised an eyebrow, both amused and exasperated, and replied curtly.
Utaha Kasumigaoka: [You know I don't put my phone on silent. Sending me a message at this hour means that even if I were asleep, your notification would wake me up.]
Mai Sakurajima: [Hehehe, I knew you wouldn't be asleep. With your habit of writing novels late at night, if you manage to sleep before three a.m., that's already considered early.]
Utaha Kasumigaoka: [You're no different.]
Mai Sakurajima: [I'm planning to act in a new horror film recently, but I haven't decided which one yet. I spent the whole day at home reading scripts and choosing between them.]
Utaha Kasumigaoka: [As Japan's phenomenon-level superstar actress, it was one thing when you kept acting in crime and suspense dramas. Now you're even interested in horror films? And when you act, you're always playing ghosts whose faces can't even be seen clearly on screen. Last time I took Kotomi to the theater to watch your The Ring, she was almost scared to tears.]
Mai Sakurajima: [Doesn't that just prove my acting skills are good? But stop, you're making me regret not seeing Kotomi almost cry in person. Why didn't I go with you two back then?]
Utaha stared at Mai's message, speechless.
Although she and Mai had a good relationship, Utaha rarely watched Mai's dramas or movies.
There was no special reason. She was simply too afraid.
Most of the series and films Mai starred in were crime investigations, suspense thrillers, or horror stories—the kind that made you too scared to go to the bathroom alone at night.
However, when Utaha noticed the way Mai addressed Kotomi Izumi, she couldn't help frowning slightly.
Hadn't Mai always called her "Kouhei Izumi" before?
When did she start calling her by her given name directly?
Could it be that Mai Sakurajima and Kotomi Izumi had grown closer without her noticing?
Utaha Kasumigaoka thought about it. What truly bothered her was the relationship between Kotomi and Mai Sakurajima.
To be more precise, what bothered her was Kotomi's relationships with other girls.
She decided that when the time was right, she would casually test the waters and ask Mai, "Have you and Kotomi gotten especially close lately?"
Even though she knew Mai was clever and wouldn't answer honestly even if asked directly, Utaha still wanted to probe a little.
Utaha Kasumigaoka: [Let's stop chatting. I'm not writing tonight. No inspiration. No matter how I try, I can't get the effect I want. I'm going to sleep. By the way, you messaging me this late—don't tell me you just wanted to complain about spending the entire day reading scripts?]
After sending the message, Utaha set her phone aside for the moment. She hadn't eaten much at dinner, and now that it was late, she was starting to feel hungry again.
Going to bed hungry made it hard to sleep, so she decided to eat something.
Coincidentally, she liked keeping small snacks and drinks on her desk.
There were plenty of drinks—cola, Sprite, Monster energy drinks.
As for snacks, she wasn't particularly interested in most of them. It wasn't that she disliked snacks. When watching anime—especially long theatrical releases—she loved grabbing a large bag of barbecue-flavored potato chips and munching while watching.
But compared to snacking, she preferred eating more during proper meals.
There was only one snack she genuinely loved, bought often, and ate regularly. It was the kind of snack that might sound childish if mentioned out loud—something people would assume only kindergarten children enjoyed.
Koala cookies.
Utaha tore open a pack from her desk, picked up one, and placed it in her mouth. A contented smile spread across her face.
"So good~ Especially when you're hungry. Eating a few koala cookies is pure bliss. No wonder she liked them so much back then…"
At that point, the relaxed smile on her face turned faintly bitter.
No matter how delicious koala cookies were, hadn't she chosen fruit candy back then?
Ding.
Just as Utaha was drifting into kindergarten memories, her phone chimed again with another LINE message from Mai Sakurajima.
Mai Sakurajima: [Utaha, what flavor of fried chicken do you like?]
Utaha tilted her head in confusion.
Fried chicken?
Was Mai being this cruel on purpose? It was one in the morning, and she was asking about fried chicken flavors?
Wasn't that obviously meant to tempt her?
Utaha Kasumigaoka: [Are you planning to send me a food video of fried chicken after I answer? Heh. Sending food videos in the middle of the night—Mai Sakurajima, that's ruthless. You've used that trick before. I'm not falling for it again.]
Mai Sakurajima: [... My manager—also known as my mom—is staying at the company again tonight. I'm bored at home by myself and hungry. Since she's not around for once, I thought I'd go downstairs and buy some fried chicken. When she's home, forget fried chicken—I can't even eat a bowl of rice freely.]
[On my way to the chicken shop, I realized I'd be alone at home anyway, so I might as well stop by your place and stay the night. That way you can treat me to breakfast tomorrow morning. Don't worry, I won't freeload. I'm buying a large portion of fried chicken to bring over. That's why I'm asking what flavor you like. Hurry up. An offer this good only comes once a year.]
Utaha Kasumigaoka: [What? You're treating me to fried chicken? It's one in the morning. Should I set my alarm early and check if the sun rises in the west tomorrow?]
Mai Sakurajima: [What are you implying? Haven't I treated you plenty of times? Just tell me what flavor you like. If you don't, I'll buy what I like.]
Utaha Kasumigaoka: [Creamy cheese.]
Mai Sakurajima: [Then I'll get a large half-and-half. Half tomato sauce flavor for me, half creamy cheese for you. For sides, I'll get cheese balls and fries.]
Utaha Kasumigaoka: [Fine. Sounds good. But where are you buying it at this hour? Want me to pick you up?]
Mai Sakurajima: [No need. I'll send you a photo and you'll know where I am.]
Moments later, Mai sent a picture. Utaha recognized it instantly—it was the fried chicken shop right across the street from her apartment building. The shop was run by a young-looking girl, and the fried chicken and various snacks there were genuinely good.
Earlier that evening, Utaha had even debated whether to go downstairs and buy fried chicken from that exact shop or just order fried rice delivery.
Utaha Kasumigaoka: [You're already across from my place.]
Mai Sakurajima: [Of course. Fried chicken has to be eaten hot, so I chose the closest place. Good thing there's a 24-hour shop near your apartment. Anyway, wait at home. I'll bring it over. Do you have drinks? If you do, I won't buy any. The chicken here is good, but the drinks are ridiculously expensive.]
Utaha Kasumigaoka: [I have some. Just come over after you buy it.]
Before long, Mai arrived at Utaha's door with two large boxes of fried chicken and rang the doorbell.
"Good evening, great novelist burning the midnight oil."
"It's technically good morning. And you, superstar actress who spent all day reading scripts. Wow, you're really going all out, huh? Two huge boxes. If your mom finds out, she'll explode."
"I can't be bothered with her. She's been annoyed with me lately, and I'm a bit fed up with her too."
Shrugging, Mai took off her shoes at the entrance and carried the boxes into the living room, placing them on the table.
"You two fought again?" Utaha asked as she took a large bottle of Pepsi and two glasses from the fridge.
"Yeah. She wants me to stop acting in horror or suspense films and switch genres. But I told her I'll only act in dramas or movies without romantic scenes. Horror and suspense are fine. I even said that next time, I'd like to try playing a corpse in a suspense film—no lines at all, just there to scare people with a terrifying death appearance. That one sentence made her furious.
Honestly, calling her Mom still feels weird. I'll just stick with calling her my manager."
After taking a big gulp of Pepsi, Mai looked thoroughly refreshed.
She had spent the entire day at home reading scripts precisely to see if any roles involved playing a corpse.
As she finished speaking, her gaze fell on the snack box sitting on the table—something she saw almost every time she visited Utaha's place.
Koala cookies.
"Pfft… Utaha, anyone who didn't know better would think you're a kindergarten kid who never graduated. You have so many of these little-kid snacks," Mai said, unable to hold back her laughter.
"Stop teasing me. You know why I like them so much," Utaha replied.
Mai tried to suppress her laughter and nodded.
"Sorry, sorry. It's just funny seeing so many of them at your place. So… since you two reunited until now, has Kotomi figured out that you were the girl in kindergarten who always gave her koala cookies?"
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