My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong As Expected

Page 16

"Wait! Don't go! Don't go!"

As soon as I stepped into the special building, I heard Yuihama's voice behind me.

She caught up with me, carrying a light schoolbag, and walked alongside me, looking radiant.

"You seem a bit listless, autistic guy. What's wrong?"

"No, of course watching that kind of stuff would make me tired... I'm still so sleepy. But you, how come you're still so energetic after watching that kind of thing?"

"what?"

Yuihama blinked.

"...Ah, you're right. Oh dear, I'm so sleepy too."

"You definitely didn't watch it..."

She didn't answer my question, but instead looked out the window and hummed a song. Although she pretended to be fine, cold sweat kept breaking out on her cheeks and neck... I wondered if her shirt would become transparent because of it.

× × ×

I opened the door to the club office and, unusually, found Yukinoshita dozing off.

"Thank you for your hard work."

I greeted her, but Yukinoshita continued to breathe faintly, sleeping soundly. Her expression seemed to be smiling, completely different from her usual cold and unyielding demeanor, and the difference made my heart race.

Her gently swaying black hair, her crystal-clear and delicate snow-white skin, her large, watery eyes, and her perfectly sized pink lips—that serene sleeping face made me want to look at her forever.

At that moment, Yukinoshita's lips twitched slightly.

"...You scared me! I woke up immediately when I saw your face."

Ugh... I snapped right back to reality. Thank goodness, I almost fell for her alluring sleeping face. I really wished this woman would just stay asleep forever.

Yukinoshita yawned like a kitten, then stretched out her arms wide.

"Looks like you're tired of reading too."

"Yeah, I haven't stayed up all night in a long time, and I haven't read this kind of work before... It seems like I won't be able to like it."

"Ah~~ I absolutely can't like it either."

"You haven't even looked at it, have you? Now hurry up and look at it."

Yuihama grunted unhappily and took out the manuscript of her novel from her bag. Her manuscript was spotless, without a single crease.

She flipped through the entire novel quickly, as if she genuinely found it boring.

I observed for a while, then spoke:

"Zaimokuza's works do not represent all light novels; there are many other interesting works on the market."

I knew perfectly well that this wouldn't help with the woodwork, but Yukinoshita tilted her head slightly and asked:

"For example, what have you been reading lately?"

"Yes, that's really fun! I personally recommend Gaga—"

"I'll find an opportunity to look into it."

I have truly experienced the theorem that "people who say such things will never read this."

The next second, someone rudely knocked on the office door.

"I have a favor to ask of you."

The woodworker greeted them with an antique air and then entered the community office.

"Now, let me hear your thoughts."

Cai Muzuo plopped down on the chair, crossed his arms imposingly in front of his chest, and looked radiant with confidence and an inexplicable sense of superiority.

In contrast, Xuexia, sitting opposite him, rarely showed an expression of reluctance to speak.

"I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with this type of work..."

Yukinoshita began like this, and Zaimokuza responded generously:

"It's alright. I'd like to hear the opinions of the common people, so please speak freely."

"it is good."

So Yukino took a deep breath and made up her mind to speak.

"It's incredibly boring, even painful to read. This work is more boring than you can imagine."

“Guuuu!”

With a single sentence, Yukishita sealed the fate of the timber frame.

The wooden chair was hit, causing its entire body to lean backward, and the chair made a "clattering" sound before it barely managed to return to its original position.

"Um, uh... could you tell me what's boring about it so I can use it as a reference?"

"First of all, your grammar is a mess. Why do you keep using inverted sentences? Do you even understand the usage of particles and auxiliary verbs? Didn't you learn that in elementary school?"

"Hmm... That way of writing is more approachable, and readers will feel more comfortable with it..."

"Shouldn't we wait until you can write the correct sentences? Besides, your pronunciation has many problems. No one would pronounce 'ability' as 'chikara,' and how come 'Bloody Nightmare Slasher' is written as 'Bloody Nightmare Slasher'? Where does 'Nightmare' come from?"

"Ahem! Uh-oh, no! A characteristic of recent superpower fighting works is their unique phonetic symbols—"

"That's called self-indulgence; nobody understands it except you. Do you really want everyone to read this work? By the way, speaking of the work, your plot development is too predictable; it's not fun at all. And why is the female lead taking her clothes off here? That's completely unnecessary and repulsive."

"Oh, I heard that it wouldn't sell well if it wasn't arranged that way... As for the plot development, well..."

"Also, the narrative sentences are too long, and there are too many difficult words, making it hard to read. Besides, please don't show people stories that aren't finished yet, okay? Before showing off your writing skills, please improve your general knowledge first."

“Aaaaaah!”

The wooden stool landed upside down, screaming loudly, its shoulders twitching uncontrollably, its eyes rolling back as it stared at the ceiling. Its exaggerated reaction annoyed me; it was probably best to stop.

"Is that enough? It's too harsh to tell everything at once."

"I haven't finished yet... Okay, shall we go next, Yuihama-san?"

"Huh? Me, I want one too?"

Zaimokuza looked at Yuihama, who looked surprised, and gave her a pleading look, tears welling in her eyes. Seeing how pitiful Zaimokuza was, she stared into the air, trying to find something to praise, and forced out these words:

"I...I think...you...you know a lot of difficult words."

"Guwa!"

Why did you deliver the fatal blow...?

For someone aspiring to be a writer, that statement is taboo, because it implies they have nothing else to offer. People unfamiliar with light novels often give this answer when asked for their opinion. However, if a novel is evaluated in this way, it's no different from being "bad."

"Then, let's have the autistic guy speak."

Yui quickly left her seat to give me her place. She had been sitting opposite me in the woodworking section, but now she was sitting diagonally behind me.

It seems she couldn't bear to look at the burnt-out wooden base that had turned to ash.

"Goo-Goo. Hachiman, you should be able to understand, right? If it's you, you should be able to understand the world I'm depicting, the horizon of light novels, right? This is a vast story that the ignorant masses cannot comprehend."

Yes, I understand.

I nodded, assuring him that I could rest assured, and his eyes seemed to say, "I believe you."

If I didn't respond to him, I wouldn't be a real man. So I took a deep breath and spoke gently:

"Tell me, which work did you plagiarize?"

"Pfft! Glug, glug... Hee hee hee..."

The lumber slab rolled around on the floor, finally coming to a stop after slamming into the wall. His eyes were vacant as he stared at the ceiling, a tear sliding down his cheek; he looked utterly despondent.

"...You're really ruthless; you're even more cutting than I am."

Even under the snow, they took several steps back.

"You..."

Yui gently poked my side with her elbow, as if to say, "There's something else to say, isn't there?" But what else could I say... I pondered for a while and finally realized the most fundamental part I had overlooked.

"Anyway, the illustrations are the main focus; we don't need to worry too much about the story."

× × ×

For a while, Lumberjack practiced Lamaze breathing, inhaling and exhaling repeatedly, to calm himself down. Then, like a newborn fawn, he stood up, his limbs trembling.

He brushed the dust off his clothes and looked directly at me.

"...Would you still be willing to look at my work?"

I couldn't help but wonder if I had misheard. Seeing that I was completely confused and hadn't said anything, Timber asked again, this time with a louder voice than before.

"Would you still be willing to look at my work?"

He looked at me and Yukinoshita with a gaze full of enthusiasm.

"you……"

Are you a masochist?

Yuihama hid behind me, staring at the zaimoto-za with disgust, as if to say, "Go to hell, you pervert." No, he wasn't like that.

"You've been criticized to the point of being completely torn apart, and you still want to keep writing?"

"Of course. The reviews were really harsh, making me think I might as well just die. Anyway, I wouldn't be popular with the opposite sex while I'm alive, and I have no friends. I should say I wish everyone except me would just die."

"Yeah. If it were me, I'd want to die if I were criticized like that."

But the woodworker accepted all the negative feedback and continued talking.

"But even so, I'm still very happy. It's wonderful to let others read what I wrote because I love it, and then hear their thoughts. I don't know how to describe this feeling... but I'm really happy."

Then, the timber stand smiled.

That wasn't the smile of a swordsman general, but the smile of Zaimokuza Yoshiteru.

—Ah, I see.

He not only has chuunibyou (middle school syndrome), but also a serious writer's syndrome.

Such a person wants to write because they have something to write about or to convey to others. They are very happy if their work touches the hearts of others. They will keep writing, even if they don't receive any recognition. These are the symptoms of "writer's syndrome."

Therefore, my answer is already obvious.

"Yes, I can read it."

I couldn't possibly not read it. That's the level that Zaimokuza's delusions of grandeur reached when they were pushed to their extreme. Even if he was considered sick, scorned, ignored, and made a laughingstock, he would never give up or change his beliefs. That's proof that he put his fantasies into action and persevered to the end.

"I'll bring it over when I've finished writing my new work."

After finishing his sentence, Cai Muzuo turned around and strode away from the office with his head held high.

Even the closed door looked inexplicably dazzling.

Even if it's distorted, naive, or unreasonable, as long as it's consistently upheld, it must be correct. If you easily change it after being rejected by others, then that kind of thing doesn't deserve to be called a "dream" or "self." Therefore, the material foundation doesn't need to change.

—Apart from the things about him that make people uncomfortable.

× × ×

In a few days...

Today's last and sixth period is Physical Education.

I and the wood pedestal still form a pair; nothing has changed.

"Hachiman, who is the most popular illustrator right now?"

"It's too early for you to worry about this. Win the award first."

"Yes, indeed. The question is, which publishing house should I debut with...?"

Why do you always focus on winning awards?

"...If the work becomes a huge hit and is adapted into an anime, is there a chance I could marry the voice actress?"

"That's enough, stop overthinking. Focus on finishing your novel, understand?"

We started talking during PE class. If anything has changed, that's about it.

However, we talked about trivial things that weren't particularly interesting, so we didn't laugh out loud like the other students.