Kuroha Akira already had something slightly devious brewing in the back of his mind. But on the surface? His expression remained perfectly serious—like a mentor sharing hard-won wisdom.
"However," he continued, "everything I just said is just my personal opinion. Not absolute truth. You don't have to accept all of it. And honestly? I hope you don't."
"Eh? Why?" Shirai Shiori looked up from her furious note-taking, genuinely puzzled. "I thought everything you said made perfect sense!"
"Because I don't want you to become a slave to trends."
"A slave... to trends..."
"Yeah." He nodded slowly. "Sales matter—I won't pretend they don't. But if you only chase sales numbers, you'll end up writing nothing but whatever's popular at the moment. You'll lose your own voice. You'll become a second-rate author who just parrots what everyone else is doing."
"Ah..."
Shirai Shiori understood completely. She'd been there herself—those miserable times when everything she wrote felt like something someone else had already written. That was exactly what happened when you borrowed too much. Your work ended up having nothing of you in it.
When she'd been writing this manuscript, she'd been frantically devouring light novels left and right, absorbing their essence like a sponge. And yeah—that tendency had already started creeping in.
Thankfully, she'd decided what she wanted to write before she put pen to paper. So the core of this work hadn't gone completely off the rails.
But looking at it now? She'd definitely crammed in way too much irrelevant content. The highlights were scattered all over the place instead of hitting hard where they mattered.
"There's one thing I genuinely think is great about your work, though." Kuroha Akira's tone softened slightly. "I could see what you wanted to express in this book. That raw, honest emotion? It's incredibly infectious. That's the soul of this story right there."
"Uh, th-thanks?"
After getting hit with a whole laundry list of flaws, suddenly receiving genuine praise made Shirai Shiori feel... oddly shy.
She'd thought she was completely immune to compliments after winning all those awards. All that praise and flattery had washed over her like water off a duck's back.
But apparently, that was because those people's approval didn't actually matter to her.
Kuroha Akira's approval, though?
That hit different.
That touched something deep in her chest.
Ah... so this is what he meant. Meeting a kindred spirit...
The feeling was... a little different from having friends. Not better or worse—just different. Special.
Shirai Shiori silently savored the sensation, already hungry for more of his approval and praise in the future.
"Creation can't be separated from reality," Kuroha Akira continued. "From life. From the real world. Even fantasy novels exist to compensate for reality's shortcomings. And what you're lacking right now?" He paused for effect. "Being 'down-to-earth.'"
Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he added, "So... I'll 'strip' too!"
"Eh? EH EH EH?! Wait! Hold on!" Shirai Shiori's face went pale. "Why are you stripping too?!"
Her brain short-circuited. Why would Kuroha Akira suddenly want to take off his clothes? Was this some kind of... reciprocal thing? Because she'd stripped earlier?
But he was the winner! Unless... unless he was doing it to make her feel less embarrassed?
She'd never actually seen a man's naked body before. She was a little curious, she had to admit... but stripping at a moment like this? Wouldn't that make it seem like they were about to do that?!
Chaotic thoughts crashed through her mind like a tsunami. Her body reacted on instinct—she threw her arms up to cover her eyes and shouted, "If you strip too, it'll really turn into doing that! Are you saying you actually want to—with me—?!"
"Hey, hey." His voice cut through her panic, laced with amusement. "What are you even imagining? Open your eyes and look."
She felt paper brush against her forehead. Cautiously, Shirai Shiori peeked through her fingers.
Kuroha Akira was grinning at her—that same mischievous smile—holding a stack of manuscript pages he'd pulled from his backpack.
"Here. Take a look."
"What's this?"
"My novel manuscript. The one I've been working on."
"Ah..."
The realization hit her like a splash of cold water. His "stripping" meant showing her his work. Of course. Obviously.
Kuroha Akira elaborated, "You know how really close friends have that special way of communicating? Where they draw each other's naked bodies? It's a chance to be completely honest—to face their inner selves without any walls up."
That was a friends thing, not a lovers thing. Lovers who stripped together usually had only one thing on their minds. But friends could do it without ulterior motives, just two people mutually examining themselves.
"I've heard of that..." Shirai Shiori nodded slowly. "So you're saying that us exchanging works to read is similar to that kind of communication?"
"Exactly. But it's not just about communication." He tapped the manuscript. "More importantly, it's for your 'reference.'"
"Reference..."
"Yeah. Read it first, then we'll talk. You don't need to finish the whole thing—just the prologue and the first chapter are enough."
Shirai Shiori nodded, swallowed hard, and began to read.
....
"...This is so interesting! It's written so engagingly!"
She couldn't help herself. The exclamation burst out the moment she finished the first chapter.
Having read so many light novels recently, she could appreciate just how good this was. The level of entertainment here far surpassed anything else she'd picked up.
"Some parts are a little... sensual..." Her cheeks warmed slightly. "B-but those parts are great too! They give you this feeling that makes your heart itch with anticipation!"
"Oh ho?" Kuroha Akira raised an eyebrow. "You sure know a lot about this."
He'd honestly expected her to frown at the suggestive scenes. This praise was a pleasant surprise.
Shirai Shiori composed herself, putting a fist to her mouth and coughing delicately. "Ahem... Well, plenty of famous works have sensual elements. They're used to portray characters' desires and motivations. But in your book, those scenes actually make the plot conflicts more dramatic! That's amazing..."
She'd never imagined a novel could be written quite like this. It was like riding a roller coaster—thrilling twists and turns, heart-pounding plot developments, completely impossible to put down.
If Kuroha Akira hadn't specifically told her to stop after the first chapter, she would've been tempted to binge-read the whole thing right then and there.
"However." His voice pulled her back. "My book also has a major flaw."
"Mm..." Shirai Shiori nodded. She'd noticed it too.
And honestly? It was the most regrettable aspect of this work.
The writing style was slightly lacking.
The dialogue parts were fine—sharp, natural, engaging. But when it came to various descriptions? An awkwardness crept in. It read a bit like a work translated by someone who wasn't fully fluent. Like those novels she'd bought from the neighboring country—great stories diminished by clunky translation.
Fortunately, because this light novel was primarily driven by character dialogue, it didn't ruin the reading experience. But the flaw was there, plain as day.
And that's when Kuroha Akira revealed his true intentions. A benevolent smile spread across his face—though something about it felt just a little too calculated.
"So here's my idea," he said smoothly. "Shiori... how about you complete this work?"
"Eh?! Me?!"
"That's right!" He leaned forward slightly. "What you need right now is to grasp the popular elements and story pacing of light novels. What my work lacks is writing style. So if the two of us collaborate—you polish my prose, I guide your structure—you improve, and my light novel gets refined. Isn't that killing two birds with one stone?"
"..."
Shirai Shiori was genuinely tempted.
Honestly? She loved Kuroha Akira's light novel. If she could help make this work even more brilliant, even more dazzling—as a reader, that would make her incredibly happy.
But... was it really okay to do this?
This story was his brainchild. His vision. If she inserted herself into it, wouldn't that be like stealing someone else's achievement?
Kuroha Akira couldn't read her thoughts. He assumed her hesitation was mostly about "authorship." Proud authors cared about fame, about credit. They wouldn't want to work for free.
So he unleashed his prepared trump card.
"Heh heh." His grin widened. "I know what you're hesitating about. So let me make this clear—when this book gets published, the authorship will be yours."
Kuroha Akira didn't care about fame. He cared about profit. About results. The name on the cover meant nothing to him.
So he'd give it to her. All of it.