My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong As Expected

Page 363

"I asked Hayato about it."

Yang answered cutely, completely oblivious to the fact that she hadn't done anything wrong. Thinking back, she realized she had indeed told Hayama about her phone number before. That bastard, he had so easily handed it over to the person she least wanted to tell…

Since she already knew, there was nothing I could do. I could only go back and add her number to my blacklist. I then asked her why she had called me out.

"So, what's the matter today?"

Seeing that I got straight to the point, she puffed out her cheeks and glared at me, clearly unhappy.

"Why is he so cold on our rare date—it's so different from how he treats Hama-chan!"

"That's not a date, and we're not on a date right now."

I stammered an explanation. Yang smiled calmly and pointed to himself.

"Don't you like a beautiful older sister like me?"

"Someone who calls herself a beautiful older sister can't blame anyone else for being disliked."

She nodded, looked up at him, and retorted sourly:

"But you probably dislike girls who think they're beautiful but never say a word, right?"

“…Right.”

I shamefully admit it... to be honest, that kind of girl is indeed a bit...

If I had to choose, I would definitely prefer beautiful older women.

The only exception is Yukinoshita. Whenever I see her, other emotions always well up inside me first.

I'm afraid of this person. From their perfect appearance to their undisguised, demanding nature, and their deep, unfathomable eyes that seem to hold something hidden within, everything about them frightens me. I stealthily looked away and repeated my earlier question.

"Back to the main point, what exactly is it that you specifically asked me to come out today?"

"Ah, right. I'm here to compare answers with you. Have you asked Yukino about her aspirations?"

"...I know, but it wouldn't be fair to her if I were to say it."

"Oh, that's very loyal! So, did she tell you? It seems like you're trusted by that person."

Yang seemed to be watching a scene with a knowing smile. It felt incredibly embarrassing to hear someone else say such things. Coupled with the conversation in the infirmary flashing through my mind, I couldn't help but slap my flushed cheeks.

"...Is that so? I don't think that's trust."

"What? So you knew all along too."

I was instantly speechless. It was just a casual reply, but Yang Nai said it without a smile, her face full of boredom. Her words kept echoing in my ears.

Yang Nai took a sip of coffee, gently stroked the rim of the cup, and looked over with his dark eyes.

"That's right, that's not trust... it's something much crueler."

Her lips curved upwards in a pleased smile, but her voice was icy cold, a stark contrast to her previous demeanor.

"She hasn't changed at all, remaining complacent. That's part of her charm... but I really dislike it."

Her long, beautiful face twisted mercilessly, her eyes fixed on me, yet it was as if she wasn't looking at me at all. To draw her gaze back, I blurted out my unresolved thoughts.

"If it's not trust, then what is it?"

"Who knows? All I'm sure of is—"

Yang Nai shrugged exaggeratedly, a smile flashing across his face, before focusing his attention on me.

"At least it won't be called the real thing—you said that, right?"

I did say that. It was a word lacking concept, one that I myself didn't understand or grasp, just a belief.

"Authentic" – perhaps it means real, perhaps it means trustworthy. I don't know yet which one qualifies as authentic.

"Do these so-called 'real' items really exist...?"

Yang raised her head, gazing at the thick clouds and murmuring softly. Those words, tinged with a hint of loneliness, were a question posed to whom?

I recalled casually that some people said it was a closed-off happiness, and others asked me, "Didn't you notice?" Yukinoshita, sitting in front of me, even questioned whether "faithfulness" existed at all.

I reached out my trembling hand and gently touched the paperback on the table.

The book, chilled by the cold wind, grew icy. My resolve began to waver; should I continue reading and see the story's ending?

Postscript to Volume 10

Goodnight everyone, this is Watari.

Autumn has truly arrived! Autumn for reading, sports, appetite, art, labor, diligence, and the corporate slave... How do you all spend your autumns in these different ways? I don't distinguish between seasons all year round; I'm always working, so my heart has already flown to the New Year!

However, the long autumn nights are perfect for reading and writing. Quiet, cool… this is the season when I can most effectively utilize my alone time. Although conditions are no different in winter, it is at times like these that I can see so many things.

Why do we have to work so hard? Longer nights don't mean longer days, and if the actual working hours are the same, the amount of sleep can't be more—of course I have these negative thoughts. But I also try to motivate myself with happy and positive thoughts. Most of the time, looking out at the vast darkness only makes me think of a bleak future. However, it is precisely because we face these negative thoughts that we are able to see the light.

Such moments always allow people to leave behind some monologues about a certain object or a group of objects.

In the endless winter night, or trudging through the biting wind, perhaps the long-sought answer will be found. Whether his answer and her question are right or wrong, we won't discuss for now… Is it the intimacy born from meeting similar people? Or is it the sense of isolation caused by absolute differences? Taking that first step forward, having received the answer and resolved his questions, what choice will he make?

And so, episode ten of "My Teen Romantic Comedy Was Wrong As Expected" comes to an end.

The following is an acknowledgment.

Wow, this time it's the evil older sister Haruno on the cover! I look forward to the broadcast of "SHIROBAKO" every week! It's so great! Thank you so much.

Editor Hoshino-sama, oh dear, next time it'll be fine! Waaaaah—I've been saying that for ages… I'm really sorry, and thank you so much. Oh dear, next time it'll be fine! Waaaaah!

To all the staff across the media platform, I apologize for the trouble I caused you all this time due to my impulsiveness. I look forward to Guoqing showcasing its diverse charms, and thank you all very much.

In addition, I referenced two works when writing this book: No Longer Human and Run, Melos!

Dear readers, the story is finally nearing its end. Although we may continue to stray from the path ahead, we are definitely moving towards our destination. It would be my greatest honor if you could all stay until the very end. Thank you.

So, that's about all the space I've used up. Please allow me to put down my pen here.

One day in October, Wataru Watari sipped a heartwarming MAX coffee with the tagline, "When it gets cold, you need a can!"

Volume 10 Illustrations

Volume 10.5 ① One day, Yoshiteru Zaimokuza will probably find a simple job that he can handle.

The Taiwanese version is from the Kingdom of Light

Scanned image: Ren Leipi

Input by: Ren Leipi

First proofreading: Ren Leipi

Photo editing: Big Sword

Everyone on Earth knows that Chiba doesn't get much snow in winter, but that doesn't mean it's not cold. Compared to some places where snowfall is only so-so, Chiba might actually be much colder.

That being said, I have never traveled outside of Chiba between January and February, so I am not sure what the actual situation is.

Although you can infer from the numbers displayed on a thermometer, even if the weather forecast shows temperatures dropping below freezing, you still can't truly understand how cold it is without experiencing it firsthand.

Conversely, the number seen on a thermometer in Chiba may not necessarily represent the actual degree of coldness felt.

There's a specific term for this: "feeling temperature".

Only by being in that cold place and experiencing and learning about it can a real sense of reality arise.

If that's the case, then the temperature reading on the thermometer in the office is quite different from the temperature I feel.

The main reason, I think, is probably a male classmate sitting in front of me.

Despite it being the dead of winter, the guy was covered in sweat, his mouth twitching as he wiped his forehead with the back of his half-finger gloved hand.

"...Hmm."

Yoshiteru Zaimoto let out a dull thud, then slumped down with a thud. The way he buried his head in his coat made him look somewhat like a futuristic monument. It seemed quite fitting to place it at the entrance of those apartment buildings in the Musashi-Kosugi area, where people had misunderstood the meaning of "high-class."

After making a noise, the timber stand fell silent again, and the office of the service society fell silent once more.

Although there were other people in the office, everyone acted as if it was none of their business. Some were engrossed in reading paperbacks while holding a teacup in one hand, others were playing with their phones while munching on snacks, and still others were staring intently at their side mirrors, fixing their bangs.

"...Um—hmm."

Timber began muttering to himself again, looking up at the ceiling, his voice carrying a more somber tone than before. However, no one in the office responded.

Although no one was willing to pay attention to him, the woodworker continued to repeat the same behavior, constantly arguing and arguing.

I began to feel impatient, and from the other end of the table, a soft sigh came.

I peeked over and saw the president of the Service Club, Yukino Yukinoshita, place her teacup on the saucer and press her temple with her hand.

She glanced at the timber pedestal, then casually shifted her gaze to me.

"...Should we ask them what they need?"

"Huh... But even if we ask, the chuunibyou will only talk to the autistic guy."

Yui Yuigahama answered listlessly, crunching on her pancake. She remained slumped over the table, not moving an inch, only turning her head away.

Well, as far as Yukinoshita and Yuihama are concerned, even though it took quite a while, the fact that they were willing to talk to the woodworker who suddenly barged into the clubroom was already considered friendly.

The problem is that Isshiki Iroha absolutely refuses to look at the pedestal, only staring wide-eyed at herself in the mirror. Anyway, what are you doing here? Never mind, I can't be bothered to ask.

Ishiki didn't even glance at the wooden stand. After fixing her bangs, she took out hand cream from her bag and began to care for her skin, humming a tune from time to time. As she spread the hand cream with her slender fingers, a citrus scent wafted over.

Come to think of it, Isshiki and Zaimokuza seem to have never met.

However, given the current situation, even if they knew each other, it's unlikely that Isshiki would initiate a conversation with Zaimokuza. Of course, the reverse is also true.

"Since that's the case—" Just as I thought of this, Yui, who was lying on the table, suddenly spoke up:

"Why don't you just ask?"

Yukinoshita nodded, as if the decision was a matter of course.

"...Well, after all, the person in charge of this request was originally Hachiman-kun."

"Please don't just decide who's in charge so casually..."

I have long been a fan of Totsuka, or Totsuka fan for short (Note 1: In Japanese, "Tsubo" as an idol culture term refers to a fan of a single member of an idol group).

As a die-hard fan, I bring my own homemade support fan to every performance, you know? Speaking of which, the cuteness level when "Totsuka Tane" is written in Romanized spelling as "TOTSUKATAN (Totsuka cutie)" is off the charts (Note 2: the Japanese suffix "TAN" has the meaning of childish language or intimate expression between men and women).

Putting all that aside, there's no one else in the club office who can communicate with Zaimokuza besides me. Although I vaguely sensed that trouble was about to befall me, I figured if I didn't speak to him, he would probably stay here forever.

"Zaimokuza, what brings you to the Service Society...?"

I made up my mind and spoke. Upon hearing this, the timber stand quickly raised its head and smiled happily.

"Oh, it's Hachiman! What a coincidence!"

"Let's skip these short dramas..."

"Oh, is that so? It's nothing, just a little thing that's bothering me..."

Let's stop here for now and straighten our posture. I also straightened my back.

"I'm struggling with whether or not I should pursue a career as an editor. I think I've already told you about that, right?"

"Of course not."

This guy is talking nonsense again... Just as I was grumbling to myself, Yuihama, who was listening nearby, muttered something under her breath.

"Isn't it supposed to be light or something...?"

Yuihama is so kind; she even dared to reply to Zaimokuza, while the other two completely ignored his presence. Yukinoshita, who had been somewhat concerned about Zaimokuza until just now, probably decided his words were worthless after hearing that, and nonchalantly opened her paperback to continue reading her book. As for Isshiki, who had been completely indifferent from the start, she wore a ferocious expression, wrestling with her eyelashes using an eyelash curler.

However, Yuihama got to the point. As far as I remember, Zaimokuza's dream was to be a light novel writer. Although he briefly changed his mind and said he wanted to be a game screenwriter, he quickly changed his mind again. It's quite remarkable that he contradicted himself so soon after saying it; maybe this guy is actually better suited for politics.

I looked at the woodworker and asked him with my eyes why he had changed his mind. He crossed his arms and looked distressed.

"Hmm—yeah, light novel writers are probably the lowest-status profession in the entertainment industry. Because you don't need any preparation, anyone can become one. Honestly, even if you become a light novel writer, no one will envy you. Your painstakingly crafted works are treated as garbage just because they're light novels..."

With a gloomy expression and muttering to himself, the woodworker suddenly widened his eyes and said in a serious tone.

"I've already figured it out."

"What...did you understand...?"

A glint flashed in the other person's glasses, and I sensed an ominous aura emanating from the pupils behind those lenses. However, I couldn't simply remain silent now. Suddenly, the man in the wooden chair stood up, the chair creaking loudly.

"If you write, you'll be attacked! If you don't write, you'll be forgotten! A loser in the industry! What value is there in this kind of work!"

His powerful voice not only echoed throughout the entire office but also resonated in my mind. As the echo faded, Timber sat down again, and the office returned to silence.