The early morning sun painted the school's back mountain in shades of gold and amber. Shiratori Seiya stood at the highest point, wooden sword in hand, cutting through the crisp, clear sky with practiced precision.
Whoosh.
Then—
'Ding.'
A system notification chimed directly in his ear.
[Love Cultivation Target's Performance Level has reached Apprentice Level]
[Reward: 1,000,000 yen, LV2 script purchase access.]
[Next Level Reward: 10,000,000 yen, LV3 script purchase access.]
The wooden sword froze mid-swing.
Shiratori Seiya blinked, processing the information. Surprise flickered across his usually composed features.
Takahashi Mio's progress... is faster than I expected.
Less than a week had passed since Hōjō Suzune's birthday. A little over two weeks since he'd started dating Takahashi Mio. And she'd already hit Apprentice Level.
If he factored in the time spent setting up the initial framework for her development... it should have been even faster.
When he'd cultivated Hōjō Shione, the pace hadn't been anywhere near this quick.
Does the speed of progress vary depending on the field?
He couldn't help but wonder.
What he had anticipated was that the psychological conditioning would be the most difficult and crucial part. He hadn't expected things to move this fast—hence why he'd been checking in on her progress every day or two, half-convinced she might be slacking off.
But now it seemed he'd overthought things.
The allure of money for Takahashi Mio far exceeded his expectations.
She's genuinely working hard.
Shiratori Seiya lowered his wooden sword, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He walked over to a nearby stone table, pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, and typed out a message to Takahashi Mio:
"I checked—you don't have classes today. Take a break. I'll take you out to have some fun."
The message sent.
No immediate reply came.
By the time Shiratori Seiya had finished tidying up his equipment on the stone table, a response finally popped up on his screen:
"Huh? Why are you suddenly saying this? I had plans to study at the library this afternoon..."
He stared at the words for a moment, then replied:
"Effort should be balanced. You've been doing great recently."
"Oh."
—
In the classroom, Takahashi Mio sat in her seat, staring at the message on her phone.
A warm current surged through her chest.
Determination is invisible.
Even if someone seriously decides to do something—even if their heart is pounding in that moment, and they feel like their body possesses the power to punch straight through the universe—other people would never know.
Even if the person themselves earnestly tells a friend:
"I've made up my mind to do this. I have to do it, even if it kills me."
The replies vary from person to person, but they usually fall into one of a few predictable categories:
"Huh? You actually decided to do that? Why? That sounds way too difficult..."
"Hahaha, where did you get that wild idea? The success rate is probably lower than winning the lottery, right?"
"Is that so? Well... good luck, I guess."
And so on.
Few people would look at you with eyes full of expectation—seemingly even more convinced than you that you'll definitely succeed—and loudly declare:
"I believe in you. Go for it. I'll support you no matter what!"
That kind of encouragement is reassuring. You should cherish having people like that around. But more often than not, it's not because they truly see your efforts toward your goal. It's because they have some special affection for you.
And because she knew that... she always felt like something was missing.
But during the process of effort—when everyone else is unaware, and your heart is already tired—if someone says, "You've worked hard. You can rest now," it brings genuine joy.
Her thumb rubbed gently against the sentence on the screen.
Takahashi Mio's rosy lips curved upward involuntarily. Her eyes narrowed into happy crescents as warmth flooded through her—at least ninety-nine degrees, maybe a hundred.
This scoundrel... he's actually kind of gentle.
After a moment's thought, she typed a reply:
"Can we not go out today?"
The message caught Shiratori Seiya off guard.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm just really tired. My energy's a bit low. Do you want to meet at the school's new cafe later? Just for coffee?"
"What time?"
"Nine o'clock. I'll tidy up my notes and head over..."
"Okay."
—
Shiratori Seiya was about to put his phone away when another message suddenly popped up.
[H University Kendo Club, Toyosawa Kiichi: Today at 9:30 AM, C University Kendo Club will be visiting for guidance. Please try to attend on time. There will be a draw for matchups...]
He glanced at it.
Swiped it away.
Turned off his phone.
He'd originally planned to stop by after his morning kendo practice. But compared to that, Takahashi Mio's side was clearly more worth his attention. It wasn't like skipping club would cost him any academic credits.
After tidying up his wooden sword, Shiratori Seiya went home, took a shower, and leisurely made his way to the cafe Takahashi Mio had mentioned.
—
At 8:40, just as he stepped through the school gates, he spotted a bus bearing C University's insignia already parked on campus.
A group of students wearing indigo cotton kendo uniforms and hakama-style skirts poured out of the bus, hurrying toward the club building.
It was a clear day in mid-October. The morning sun blazed down—not oppressively hot, but certainly scorching.
Wrapped in all those layers, even without protective gear... Shiratori Seiya imagined it would be quite a challenge.
He watched the figures move across the campus, and a memory surfaced unbidden.
The time he'd gone to the IH Competition with Hasegawa Saori.
It had been August then. While waiting outside, the heat was unbearable. Yet she'd insisted on sticking close to him. Unable to refuse her, he'd wrapped ice in a towel and pressed it against her forehead—
Which ended up soaking his chest.
Suddenly—
A familiar figure flashed across his vision.
Shiratori Seiya froze.
He blinked. Twice, quickly.
But there was no one there.
"..."
Did I see wrong?
....
At 8:55, the school's newly opened cafe had only just unlocked its doors for the day. Shiratori Seiya pushed through the entrance—past the little "Open" sign hanging in the window—and found only a scattering of customers inside.
His eyes found Takahashi Mio almost immediately.
She sat by the window, chin resting on one hand, head tilted slightly. Her moist gaze drifted outside, unfocused and distant. Seemingly exhausted, she raised her other hand to cover a yawn.
In that instant, sunlight streamed through the glass and washed over the girl's face. She looked like a pear blossom dipped in rouge—bright and languid, soft and luminous all at once.
If someone photographed this scene and held it up against her photos from a month ago... even she probably wouldn't believe how much she'd changed.
"Welcome! What can I get for you—"
The waiter approached, but before Shiratori Seiya could respond, Takahashi Mio's gaze landed on him.
Her peach-blossom eyes flickered twice—confirming it was him—and then she raised her pale arm and waved.
"Over here."
Her voice wasn't bursting with energy, but the happiness beneath it was unmistakable.
"You seem very happy today."
"Of course."
Takahashi Mio nodded, then handed him the menu while letting out a theatrical groan. "I've been working hard for so many days. Getting a rare day off? Of course I'm happy."
"You make it sound like a job."
"It's not... but it kind of feels like one, doesn't it?" She tilted her head. "By the way, why did you suddenly say that earlier today?"
"Say what?"
"Cough, cough."
Takahashi Mio cleared her throat dramatically. Then she furrowed her brow, narrowed her light blue eyes, and dropped her voice into a low, serious register:
"Effort should be balanced. You've been doing great recently."
Silence hung between them for two full seconds.
Takahashi Mio watched Shiratori Seiya's face darken—and promptly covered her mouth, laughing.
"Pfft—hahaha! How was that? Pretty accurate, right?"
Shiratori Seiya shot her a look. "I'm suddenly regretting this. I feel like you're not under nearly enough pressure. Maybe you should attend special training tomorrow instead."
"Eh—"
Takahashi Mio's expression froze solid.
She recovered quickly, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Will there be a bonus for early training?"
"If you don't train properly, points will be deducted."
"Tsk."
She clicked her tongue, a look of "this guy is impossible" flashing across her features.
Then, without warning, her eyes turned impossibly gentle. Her lips curved upward into a soft, affectionate smile. She gazed at the young man across from her with warm adoration and said, in a honeyed voice:
"Seiya... can't you be a little nicer to me?"
Shiratori Seiya froze.
The expression was strikingly similar to Hōjō Shione's.
His frown deepened. "Fifty thousand deducted from the special training class."
Even as he said it—even as he clearly looked annoyed—Takahashi Mio felt a strange satisfaction bloom in her chest. Like she'd achieved some secret goal.
If she had to compare the feeling to something... it was probably more satisfying than "being constipated for a long time and finally having a complete bowel movement."
But then—
Her eyes went wide.
"Huh?!"
She leaned forward, indignant. "Why?! I practiced that in front of the mirror for ages! I only saw her once, and I still managed to imitate her that well! No reward, and you're deducting money?!"
"Be grateful I haven't deducted everything you have."
Shiratori Seiya rolled his eyes at her. "And honestly? It wasn't even that similar."
"Hmm?"
Takahashi Mio narrowed her eyes, skepticism dripping from her voice. "Why do you say that?"
Looking directly into her eyes, Shiratori Seiya spoke seriously:
"For an actor, the first priority is image and temperament. Acting comes second. The audience has to believe that you are the character. If you don't feel like the character, then even the best acting in the world won't save you."
He paused. "You're beautiful, certainly. But your temperament is different from Hōjō Shione's. Even if your facial expressions are identical... it's completely ineffective."
"..."
Is it really just because her image is already carved into your heart?
Takahashi Mio squeezed her index finger hard, letting the sting ground her. Then she took a sip of coffee, lifted her head, and flashed a bright smile.
"So... when I was imitating you just now, it wasn't accurate either because my temperament can't match your cold, ruthless vibe, right?"
"If I were truly cold and ruthless, I would have deducted all your money already."
Shiratori Seiya rolled his eyes again. "But yes, you're roughly correct. You've made significant progress so far. But if you want to casually shift your temperament on demand... you probably still have a long way to go."
He already had a judgment forming in his mind.
Takahashi Mio's current stage? She could mimic a character's expressions.
But demeanor? Temperament? That would probably take until Master Level.
And if she wanted to seamlessly integrate into any role in a play—to become whoever the script demanded—her acting would need to reach Grandmaster Level.
"Oh."
Takahashi Mio nodded thoughtfully.
A moment later, she looked at him with genuine curiosity. "So... why do you seem to know more than I do? You're not secretly reading all those theory books too, are you?"
Shiratori Seiya smiled.
He looked at her—deeply, meaningfully—and said:
"If I didn't read them... how could I walk forward with you?"
"..."
—