"I—I don't do that. I think Senpai must be misreading the situation." Mio was making her last stand.
"Last time too—at the vending machine, you took one look at me and bolted. And just now, you clearly spotted me, and still turned and ran." Utaha leaned slightly closer, her voice low and unhurried. "Am I really that frightening?"
Faced with Utaha's quiet pressure, Mio instinctively stepped back half a pace, her mind kicking into overdrive. She needed a credible explanation, and fast—one that would hold up now and going forward.
She noticed the curious glances drifting their way from other students nearby. A spark of inspiration.
"Um—we're being a little conspicuous here. If Senpai doesn't mind, would you want to go to the café nearby and talk somewhere quieter?"
"Fine."
Utaha was genuinely curious to see what Mio was going to come up with.
Having bought herself a few minutes, Mio allowed a small internal sigh of relief. The café was only five or six minutes away—just enough time to workshop something that didn't sound completely hollow.
They settled in not long after. Walking out of the cold and into the warmth, Mio exhaled fully for the first time in a while.
Once they were seated and had ordered, Utaha folded her arms across her chest, crossed her legs, and let one foot swing idly. "Alright. Let's hear it."
"The truth is... I'm your fan."
"...Excuse me?"
"Kasumigaoka-senpai is Kasumishiko, isn't she!" A bright, barely-contained excitement lit up Mio's eyes—the unmistakable look of someone meeting an idol for the first time.
"I was never entirely sure, of course—attending the same school as a favorite author seemed a little too good to be true. So I kept watching, to try and confirm it. I only made up my mind recently."
"The reason I kept running away was because I thought Senpai had noticed me watching. I panicked."
At this moment, Mio privately felt like a genius.
Utaha was quiet for a beat, visibly caught off-guard. Then: "How did you figure out I was Kasumishiko?"
"Senpai held a signing event not too long ago, right? I actually went—but something came up and I was late. By the time I got there the signing was just wrapping up, and I only managed a glimpse of Senpai from a distance."
Mio knew exactly how conspicuous her white hair was. Utaha also had an excellent memory, and claiming to have attended the signing in person was risky—Utaha might find the thread to pull on. So she'd chosen an excuse that was a little flimsy, but crucially, impossible to disprove.
"Is that so."
Utaha's instincts were still scratching at something. The explanation was coherent enough, but something felt slightly off.
She couldn't put her finger on what.
"Why not just come ask me directly?"
"I couldn't—what if I had the wrong person? That would be mortifying." Mio dropped her gaze, looking genuinely flustered.
Something must have clicked in Mio's expression, because her head snapped up, a flash of alarm crossing her face. "Senpai—you don't dislike me for watching you, do you?"
"Not particularly. But since you claim to be my reader—you have read my work, I assume. Can you answer a few simple questions?"
Mio had expected this. Utaha wasn't the type to trust easily, and that was fine. Shortly after transmigrating, Mio had tracked down and read the full run of Metronome in Love—with the kind of near-perfect recall her system gave her, Utaha's questions posed no real challenge.
Watching Mio answer each one fluently and without hesitation, Utaha let the last of her skepticism dissolve. That level of familiarity—the ability to quote passages without even pausing to think—was beyond what someone would manage on a casual read-through. Even Utaha herself couldn't recite her own writing that readily.
"One more thing," Mio ventured, after the questions were done. "Senpai—could I have your contact details?"
Whether to maintain the image of a devoted fan, or to make the future tasks easier, the contact was a necessity.
"...Sure."
Utaha pulled out her phone and they exchanged information.
She took a slow sip of coffee. She genuinely hadn't seen this coming—a cute white-haired kouhai who turned out to be her own fan. Of all things.
Right as Mio finally started to relax, the system pinged.
"Good news, good news! Host has finally triggered the Kasumigaoka Utaha quest line! As the very first Utaha-related task, give it your best~"
"Your mission: before you and Kasumigaoka Utaha part ways, have her step on your foot—deliberately. Location is unrestricted. Success may reward a Kasumigaoka Utaha series card or item; failure will draw a penalty card."
"Hold on—I'm not even a masochist. Why is this my task?"
"Maybe Host isn't, but Kasumigaoka Utaha just might be a sadist~" the system replied, perfectly matter-of-fact.
Mio didn't dignify that with a response. She started working through the logistics.
Asking Utaha to step on her directly was a non-starter—instant weirdo label. The only angle was to engineer a moment where Utaha's foot naturally landed on hers and call it voluntary. Based on prior experience, that should still count.
The problem was that sitting at a café table made that nearly impossible. She needed them both moving.
With that in mind, Mio put on her best casually curious expression. "Senpai, what are you doing after this?"
"Going home. Then sleeping." Utaha stifled a lazy yawn.
"I... happen to be going the same way."
"You don't even know where I live. How are you going the same way?"
"I don't need to know," Mio said, perfectly sincerely. "I'm always going the same way."
Utaha saw through it immediately. The kouhai wanted to extend their time together—understandable enough, for a fan who'd just met her favorite author.
She hesitated—then nodded.
She had to admit: this white-haired girl was almost unreasonably pretty. Being watched with that particular hopeful look made refusing feel like some kind of unforgivable crime.
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