Seiji Fujiwara took a satisfied bite of the bento that Utaha had lovingly prepared for him. With his other hand, he lazily pulled out his phone and opened Toyonozaki High's student forum.
He typed one name into the search bar: "Eriri Sawamura."
Within seconds, dozens of threads popped up.
[Debate] Kasumigaoka Utaha vs. Sawamura Eriri — Who's the Real Queen of Toyonozaki?
[Breaking] The young lady Eriri seems short on cash lately… she's actually working part-time at a convenience store?!
[Deep Dive] Rumor has it the Sawamura family's mansion was seized—what's going on?!
Seiji blinked, surprised for a moment before falling into thought.
So, Eriri too, huh?
Utaha's situation had already deviated from the original story.
And now Eriri's had as well.
Could it be that, in this world, all the heroines started out as ordinary girls?
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. That just makes things easier.
Then his mind drifted to another girl—another heroine from Saekano: Megumi Kato.
Too bad Kato's presence is still practically invisible.
Not even a single post about her on the forum—not one photo, not even a name mention.
I haven't seen her around school either.
Just as he was thinking that, the air beside him turned cold.
Utaha's hand, midair with a piece of fried chicken, froze.
She'd caught a glimpse of his phone screen—the bright, smiling face of Eriri, framed by those flashy headlines.
A bitter, jealous chill spread from her chest.
She set her chopsticks down slowly. The warmth in her fox-like eyes iced over.
Utaha's smile was thin, sharp-edged. "Heh. Our great author Fujiwara really doesn't waste any energy, does he? Eating the bento I made for you while ogling some half-cooked meat in another pot. Aren't you afraid you'll choke trying to chew both at once?"
Seiji didn't even look away from his phone. His tone was calm.
"Yeah. I'm interested in her."
He didn't bother to hide it.
"Not just her, though."
Turning his head, he met Utaha's eyes with a teasing smile. "There are plenty of beautiful girls I'm interested in."
"My goal is to build a real, everlasting harem that belongs only to me."
"When that time comes, Utaha, I hope you'll get along with all your sisters."
Boom.
Utaha's brain went completely blank.
Harem…?
She stared at him in disbelief.
She'd always known that genius men—especially the rich, brilliant ones—had wandering eyes. In Japan's upper circles, that was practically an unspoken rule.
But to hear Seiji say it so boldly—to her face—like it was the most natural thing in the world…
What did he take her for?!
A madam managing his women? Some glorified housekeeper for his so-called harem?!
Utaha crossed her arms tightly, her long legs in black stockings bouncing irritably.
Seeing her bristle like that, Seiji didn't back down—he leaned in.
"Oh right," he added lightly, "since you're a girl, maybe you could find out what exactly happened to her family. I'm curious about this 'fallen from grace' story."
Swish.
Utaha's gaze turned razor-sharp, stabbing into him.
Memories flashed in her mind—of her own desperate situation, her mother's illness, and how this same man had "rescued" her with money.
And now, he wanted to do it again—to another girl.
And have her play accomplice?
Not a chance.
Her eyes filled with open disgust, as if she were looking at the scum of the earth.
Without a word, she closed her bento and stood up, walking away.
Seiji only chuckled, unfazed. He picked up his chopsticks again, eating slowly as he scrolled through the forum.
Elsewhere, Utaha sat alone in a quiet corner, finishing her lunch without appetite.
Every time she pictured Seiji's smug face, anger bubbled up again.
She exhaled sharply, then took out her phone and dialed a number.
"Mom…" Her voice was calm, controlled.
"Utaha? Calling at this hour—did something happen at school?" came her mother's warm, concerned voice.
"Nothing happened. I just… miss you. Can I stay over tonight?"
"Of course, sweetheart! I'll make your favorite dishes!"
"Mm."
After chatting for a while, Utaha hung up feeling lighter. She was actually looking forward to tonight—
a night away from Seiji Fujiwara's insufferable face.
But on the other end of the call, Mrs. Kasumigaoka's expression grew pensive.
Her daughter suddenly wanting to stay over? That could only mean trouble with that man.
As an adult, she could guess the rest.
Her eyes drifted to the TV, where a news replay was running.
Onscreen, a tall, striking young man stood on stage, accepting the Edogawa Ranpo Prize.
The headline blazed across the screen:
"The Youngest Winner in History! The Rise of the Cross-Media Prodigy, Seiji Fujiwara!"
Mrs. Kasumigaoka's gaze deepened.
At first, she'd assumed the man supporting her daughter was some spoiled rich kid. She'd felt both grateful for his money and worried for her daughter's future.
But now she knew—he was a famous, brilliant young author with limitless potential.
Her perspective shifted completely.
In a society obsessed with hierarchy, a man with talent, looks, and fame was worth far more than any second-generation heir.
Men like that—having multiple women was practically expected.
To be loved by such a man… that wasn't disgrace.
It was fortune.
I'll have to make Utaha understand that, she decided firmly.
Later that afternoon – School Gate
The bell had just rung, and students trickled out in groups.
In the parking lot sat Seiji's newly purchased sedan—sleek, simple, and parked in his reserved spot. One of the perks Toyonozaki offered its star alumnus.
Tap, tap, tap.
Utaha stepped out of the building, schoolbag slung over her shoulder.
"Utaha, get in. I'll drive us home," Seiji called, leaning casually against the car, one hand on the door, his smile effortless.
The late sunlight gilded his already handsome features, making him look like something out of a movie. Girls walking by couldn't help but steal glances, whispering in awe.
Utaha, however, only felt her irritation spike.
"No thanks, oh great author," she replied, deliberately emphasizing the title. "I'm going home to visit my dear mother tonight. You'll have to survive without me."
Seiji raised an eyebrow, feigning a sigh. "That's too bad. Guess I'll be sleeping alone tonight."
He paused, then asked lightly, "So when are you coming back? I'd hate to wait too long."
Utaha's glare could've frozen the sun. "That depends on someone realizing how disgusting his little fantasies are. Once that happens, maybe I'll consider it."
She wasn't afraid of him. She knew Seiji's temperament by now—he had endless patience for his own women. As long as she didn't cross his bottom line, a bit of attitude wouldn't make him angry.
"I'm not changing my mind," Seiji said simply.
"Is that so?"
Utaha smirked coldly. We'll see who gives in first, you perverted bastard.
He'd cave soon enough—he always did. Especially after she'd agreed to that new "game" he'd wanted to try and hadn't yet delivered on. Let him stew a little.
She'd let him suffer, crawl back, and beg. And when he did, she'd make sure to humiliate him properly.
But Seiji only smiled, serene and confident. "Won't be long before you come back on your own, Utaha."
"Impossible!" she shot back instantly. Then, narrowing her eyes, added, "As long as you don't use your usual dirty tricks, that's a promise!"
"Heh." Seiji chuckled under his breath. "I won't need tricks for this one."
She thought he was bluffing.
But what she didn't realize was that Seiji Fujiwara was no longer just some upstart light novel author.
The fame from the Edogawa Ranpo Prize, the massive fanbase of the "Light Novel King," the absurd amount of wealth—
all of it combined into something far more powerful than mere money.
Influence. Momentum. The kind that bent the world around him.
And soon, Utaha would learn that the hard way.
"Fine then!" she huffed, tilting her chin up like a proud black swan. "No tricks. We'll see who wins!"
With that, she spun around, her long black hair swaying behind her as she strode into the crowd, leaving only her graceful silhouette.
Seiji watched her go, the corner of his mouth curling upward.
Utaha's doomed to lose this one.
That night – Kasumigaoka Residence
"Welcome home, Utaha!"
Mrs. Kasumigaoka greeted her daughter warmly, apron still on, pulling her into a hug.
"I'm back," Utaha smiled faintly, stepping inside. The cozy apartment smelled of home-cooked food.
"Wash your hands. Dinner's ready—your favorites!"
"Okay."
Bathed in that familiar warmth, Utaha's tense heart finally began to relax. She let herself enjoy the rare peace, chatting and laughing with her mother through dinner.
Later, they sat together on the couch, watching TV as commercials played.
That was when Mrs. Kasumigaoka casually asked, "Utaha, did you have a fight with Fujiwara-kun?"
Here it comes.
Utaha sighed inwardly—there was no hiding it.
Setting down her cup of tea, she told her mother everything: Seiji's shameless talk of a harem, his arrogance, his audacity.
"Mom, can you believe him? What does he take me for? He knows how I feel, and yet—"
She expected her mother to side with her—to be angry, indignant.
Instead, Mrs. Kasumigaoka fell silent for a long moment. Then she sighed softly, taking Utaha's hand.
"Utaha, dear… men like Fujiwara-kun aren't like ordinary men."
Utaha's eyes widened.
Her mother continued gently, "Since ancient times, great writers have always been… passionate. Their worlds are too big for one person to contain. Having a few women around them—it's not unusual."
"As long as you're the one he cherishes most, and he always comes home to you… isn't that enough?"
Utaha stared, stunned.
What…?
Her mother—the woman she respected most—was telling her to just… accept it?
To share him?
Mrs. Kasumigaoka winced at her daughter's look but pressed on. "Listen to me, Utaha. A man like Fujiwara-kun—talented, handsome, with a limitless future—he's someone countless women would kill to be with. You're lucky to be his first. Don't throw that away over pride."
"Enough!"
Utaha shot to her feet, trembling with anger and disbelief.
Even from her mother, she couldn't stomach those words.
Without another word, she stormed off to the guest room and slammed the door shut.
The conversation ended in silence.
That night, Utaha lay awake, staring at the ceiling, fury and confusion twisting inside her.
The next morning
Utaha left her mother's apartment without a word.
Seiji hadn't called or texted. And she didn't plan to, either.
She stopped at a convenience store for a quick breakfast, then headed toward the school gate—just in time to see him.
And surrounding him… was chaos.
"Good morning, Fujiwara-senpai!"
"Senpai, I made this bento for you—please take it!"
"Fujiwara-kun! Want to hit karaoke after school?"
A small crowd of Toyonozaki girls encircled him, chattering and giggling, their faces glowing with excitement.
Utaha felt her blood pressure spike. A bunch of shameless vixens!
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her posture and strode forward. Surely, her presence would scatter them.
Except—it didn't.
If anything, the girls' excitement intensified.
One bold short-haired girl even turned toward Utaha and shouted,
"Kasumigaoka-senpai! We don't mind sharing him!"
"Yeah! You're so understanding—you won't get jealous, right?"
"We can be the side girls!"
"Right! He's the pride of Japan! It's selfish to keep him all to yourself!"
Buzz.
Utaha's entire worldview shattered for the second time.
Be the side girls?!
They're saying that out loud? In front of me?
What the hell is wrong with today's high school girls?!
Her hands clenched at her sides, trembling with fury.
And across the crowd, Seiji Fujiwara only smiled faintly—like a king surrounded by his worshipers.