In the dimly lit hall, the spotlight forced everyone's eyes toward the stage—toward the man standing at the center of it all.
The world is vast—so vast that many people live their entire lives without ever leaving their hometown.
Yet, it's also painfully small.
Even a cramped place like Tokyo has to hold over ten million people.
The number of strangers you brush past each day might even outnumber all the dorayaki you'll ever eat in your lifetime.
Neon signs flashed with dazzling, hypnotic lights.
Traffic swept past in streaks of swift, cold brilliance.
The stage, meanwhile, shimmered with bright, seductive allure…
This was the kind of enchanting, overwhelming world Kyousuke dreamed of—the kind where one careless step could lead to getting lost forever.
Hojou Mikiko had always known her son was someone extraordinary.
From the time he was a child, he stood apart.
He was meant to do great things.
But ever since the day he left her sight and began walking his own path, a mother's worry had rooted deep in her heart.
She feared the world wouldn't love him as unconditionally as she did.
That it wouldn't protect him with the same tenderness.
That it wouldn't be there to tell him, "It's okay. Everything will be alright."
And just like she'd feared, the world did seem to reject him, telling him he didn't belong.
But, just as he always had, Kyousuke excelled—so brilliantly that no one could deny it.
Now, he stood tall on the award stage, letting his honor speak for itself, telling the world: 'If I don't belong, maybe the rules of the world need to change.'
Mikiko's gaze drifted to the second row of seats—specifically, to the space in front of Kisaki Tetta.
She remembered her son's friends clearly—those he'd brought home, the ones she'd quietly observed.
It didn't take her long to notice that Kisaki wasn't among them.
She knew who Kisaki was—not just one of Kyousuke's juniors in the club, but a partner who had ventured with him into society's harsh battlefield.
Naturally, she'd kept an eye out for him.
And that's when she noticed what Kisaki had done to Ishida Hidenori.
Her son's words echoed in her mind… and with a little mental link to that earlier newspaper article, everything clicked.
'Oh? So that's the guy who said my son should just go back to drawing children's manga?'
'The one who tried to shove him out of the industry?'
"…Utaha-chan, isn't that the man who badmouthed Kyousuke in the paper?" Mikiko asked in a whisper.
"Huh?"
The moment she spoke, Eriri's ears perked up like radar.
Even little Kasuko stopped giggling and turned around, baring her tiny fangs in sync with Eriri.
Yukari and Miki also glanced over.
"…Eh?"
But unlike the others, Utaha panicked slightly.
"W-Who? Who are you talking about?"
Clad in a regal, elegant outfit that made her look like a queen standing beside the princess-like Eriri, the ever-poised Utaha was stuttering.
Her usual acting skills seemed to have expired like a trial pass—anyone could tell she was hiding something.
Even the usually airhead Eriri stared at her, suspicious.
Mikiko stared at the girl's face for half a second—then let out a carefree laugh.
"Ahhh, the photo session's over. Looks like the reporters are about to start their interviews. Let's pay attention now."
This airhead beauty didn't push any further.
She knew—if her hunch was right, then there was definitely more to come.
Eriri didn't immediately look at the stage.
Instead, she began glancing around, searching for the person Aunt Mikiko had mentioned.
Beside her, little Kasuko did the same.
They moved in perfect sync, not because they planned to—but because their thoughts were completely aligned.
Even with contact lenses on, Eriri couldn't spot the man Mikiko had described.
After scanning the crowd, her eyes locked with Kasuko's—who was nestled in Utaha's arms.
Together, they slowly turned their gazes toward Utaha.
Suspicious.
Meanwhile, as the photo session wrapped up, Amamiya Miki turned and made her way back toward the host's podium.
As she walked, she gently touched her chest—still feeling the lingering warmth of Kyousuke's arm.
Such strong muscles…
"Now then, we'll begin the Q&A session for the press."
A staff member approached, offering to take the bouquet from Kyousuke so he could hold the microphone more easily.
But Kyousuke simply smiled and shook his head.
No way he was giving up these flowers.
Seeing his insistence—and realizing how the bouquet, though bulky in most hands, looked like a mere decoration against his tall frame—the staff member didn't argue.
They simply handed him the mic.
The decision of who could ask questions wasn't up to him—it was determined by the event host, based on the connections each publication had with the Booksellers' Grand Prize committee.
Still, when Weekly Bunshun—Japan's top tabloid—took the initiative to cover the event for the first time, the committee decided to take them seriously.
Their name was placed right at the top of the question list.
"Now, press members, please raise your hands to ask your questions," Amamiya Miki said gently.
The reporters in the front row all raised their hands in unison. Some were extra eager—probably newcomers hoping to make a name for themselves.
"All right, we'll start with Weekly Bunshun."
"Thank you."
Yoshitoki Hirota accepted the mic with a nod, flipped open a palm-sized notebook, then looked up toward the stage.
"First off, congratulations to Hojou-sensei on winning the 2015 Booksellers' Grand Prize. I look forward to working with you."
"Thank you so much for the support." Kyousuke replied with a polite nod.
"When I first heard your work made it to the shortlist, I was floored. But watching you hold that trophy now—it just feels like fate."
'Ah, now that's a seasoned pro talking!' Kyousuke smiled and nodded appreciatively.
"Did you know your final score was the highest in the history of the prize? Over 700 points—a number no one has ever reached. It's absolutely incredible!"
Yoshitoki Hirota piled on the praise with wild enthusiasm, like a kid who just saw an Ultraman in real life.
In the second round of voting, committee members choose their top three picks.
First place earns three points, second gets two… it's not a simple popularity poll.
"Yes, I saw that. I was stunned myself. I couldn't believe it. I'm truly grateful to all the bookstore staff who supported me," Kyousuke said, bowing with a smile.
"Wow, amazing! Even in such a moving moment, you noticed the scoring details? You're just like Ishigami—a natural genius!"
Clearly, Yoshitoki wasn't here to interrogate anyone. He was the unofficial hype man.
Meanwhile, Ishida Hidenori, sitting further back, was grinding his teeth at the compliments.
'This guy really is like Ishigami… a cold-blooded killer. A sadistic monster.'
Most people at the venue didn't know the backstory.
Several reporters nearby frantically jotted down notes.
After all, in a country obsessed with record-breaking prodigies, this kind of info was front-page gold.
"Not only did you shatter the all-time high score, but in terms of age, you're also the youngest winner—and even nominee—in history.
A first-year high schooler winning this prize? It's something straight out of a novel. A dazzling fairy tale."
Everyone already knew this part—Kyousuke's age had always been the most talked-about aspect of his debut.
Supporters held it up as proof of his genius, while critics used it to question his credibility, dismissing his work as childish doodles.
But even so, when Yoshitoki Hirota from Weekly Bunshun said the words "First-year high school student, winner of the Booksellers' Grand Prize", the entire hall collectively gasped.
The previously quiet venue buzzed with murmurs like a hive stirred awake.
"Hey, Eikichi, what were we doing in our first year of high school?" Danma Ryuji muttered under his breath.
"Huh? You serious, Ryuji? Chasing girls, obviously," said Eikichi Onizuka, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
What else could they possibly have been doing?
"You forgot fighting."
"Oh yeah, that was our daily routine."
"Fighting is life."
"Fair point."
Listening to the exchange, Kyousuke father rubbed his chin, thinking back on his own high school days.
'Let's see… what was I doing back then?'
"You were out chasing girls like an idiot," Mikiko said with a sly grin—exactly the kind of thing Sakura would call "cringe couple behavior."
As if she wasn't the girl being chased.
"Ahem. That was just… our youth," Ichirou replied, blushing slightly.
"A record score that may never be broken," Hirota continued without hesitation. "Before Hojou Kyousuke, the highest score ever recorded was in the six-hundreds—he beat that by a full hundred points.
Unless the voting committee expands, no one is likely to surpass this."
Well… except maybe Hojou himself.
After all, he's the one who makes miracles happen.
"As if that weren't enough, the age at which he won is enough to make anyone question their life choices.
And one more thing—Hojou-sensei's The Devotion of Suspect X is the first pure mystery novel in the award's history to take the grand prize.
Not just a story disguised as a mystery, but an actual, classic, deductive mystery!"
Hirota's tone was fiery, almost too much—so much so that even Amamiya Miki onstage began to wonder if he had been hired by the organizers to hype things up.
I haven't even had the chance to say this stuff myself, she thought. Isn't this starting to sound like shameless self-praise?
"It's nothing short of an Impossible Miracle!"
If Yukino Yukinoshita had been present, she'd probably scold him for using two redundant words in a row.
'Impossible' and 'miracle'? That's just nonsense with no logical meaning.
But she wasn't there.
————————————————————————
At that moment, she was enduring her sister's relentless teasing in front of the TV.
"Eh? He's so amazing that it feels like he's the one evaluating me and Mom, not the other way around," exclaimed Haruno, curling up on the sofa with her snowy legs tucked under her.
She swung the remote around like a toy as she ranted.
Yukino, of course, offered no response.
And Haruno just didn't care.
"Say, Yukino~ what were you doing in your first year of high school?"
Yukino sat still, silent as a Daruma doll, watching the television with that cool, unreadable expression.
No reaction.
No emotion.
Haruno chuckled.
She didn't need words—the flicker in her little sister's pale blue eyes said it all.
"What to do, huh? Hojou's too perfect. How am I supposed to trick him into becoming a Yukinoshita son-in-law?" she sighed dramatically. "Even the emcee seems to have fallen for him. A guy like that must be insanely popular at school, right?"
She glanced sideways at her sister.
"Hey hey, Yukino-chan~ are there lots of girls chasing after Hojou at your school? Do they follow him around all day?"
Yukino silently picked up the remote and turned up the volume.
'Girls chasing Hojou?' With Sakura and Shouko already around him like bodyguards, who else would dare get close?
Follow him around every day? Seriously, what goes on in her sister's head?
People aren't mindless toys—there's no way anyone would…
…would…
Yukino's eyes widened.
'No. No. I'm just… chasing after what I want.'
'That's all. It's not because of what she said.'
'It has nothing to do with why I've gone to Hojou Kyousuke's house two days in a row…'
"Wait, seriously? The first mystery novel to win the Grand Prize?"
"Seems like it. First one ever! He's breaking all kinds of records!"
"What the hell is Hirota doing? Shut up already so I can ask a question! So rude—he better watch himself or he won't be invited next time."
"Can we convince Hojou-sensei's parents to write a parenting guide?"
————————————————————————
After Hirota dropped that third bomb, the atmosphere in the venue teetered on the edge of chaos.
Any one of those three points would've made Kyousuke stand out as a once-in-a-generation genius.
But all three combined? It really was, as Hirota said, an Impossible Miracle.
What? You say those words are meaningless?
Ever heard of emphasis, genius? What, did the entire editorial department graduate from third-rate universities?
"I think I speak for many of us when I say—Hojou-sensei, we're dying to know how you managed to create such a groundbreaking work.
If possible, would you share your secret with us?"
At long last, Hirota asked his actual question.
And honestly? After all that buildup, even such a basic question had the entire room hanging on the answer.
Hmm… how did I create it, huh?
Good question.
One so good, in fact, that Kyousuke had no idea how to explain it.
If Utaha were here onstage, answering in his place, she'd probably say, "This is the kind of thing only a genius can understand.
If you could comprehend it, you wouldn't need to ask."
But that was Utaha—someone who couldn't care less about public opinion.
Kyousuke, on the other hand, was well-versed in social nuance and diplomacy.
Faced with a question tailor-made to showcase his talent, he smiled gently at the audience, raised the mic, and began to speak.
So you want a story, huh? A tearjerker or a comedy?
'I can even whip up something poetic about birds flying across the sky, if you want.'