"..."
Silence.
Silence so complete that, aside from Kushida's breathing, there was nothing else to hear.
Just as Asakusa Tōru was starting to think the diary was about to play dead again—
It finally moved.
But instead of flipping to the daily entry pages, or the message section—
It inserted a brand-new page at the very front, before the first page.
A different-colored sheet.
[Update Announcement]
[To satisfy the Recorder's demands for "richer rewards," "greater creative freedom," and "higher-quality readers," the "Diary That Rewards You Just for Writing Casually" has released a new DLC]
[The reward pool has been expanded!]
[The spoiler index now has a wider fluctuation range!]
[Emotional impact scoring will now include more characters from activated storylines!]
[The upper limit of record evaluations has been raised!]
[Please continue creating diligently!]
"…The content sounds great. But she already drew the throne. That can't possibly be from a newly issued diary, right?"
On the surface, it looked like a perfectly reasonable update notice.
Shiina Mashiro received her diary because the system updated.
But there was a fundamental problem.
There were too many drawings.
An absurd amount of trashy romance manga drafts.
No way that volume could've been accumulated in such a short time.
Shiina Mashiro was a world-class painting genius.
Not a world-class draft-printing machine.
More importantly—
That throne illustration beneath the king?
No matter how he looked at it, it had clearly been drawn in response to the diary entry where he hyped up Yamauchi.
"…"
As if sensing his silence—
The diary flipped another page.
Another sheet of the same tone appeared.
[Message Section Optimized]
[Based on high-quality feedback, the "labeling" function for messages has been removed]
[Reply function for messages has been added]
[Option to set individual messages to "transparent" has been added]
[Reply limit: 50 characters per message. Please reserve your expressive desires for your daily diary entries]
"…Mm."
"Fantastic. A damn fifty-character limit. You're definitely from Ciweimao."
Ignoring everything above, Asakusa immediately fixated on the last line.
Though—
Where exactly did you get this so-called "high-quality feedback" from?
"Very nice optimization. But this doesn't seem related to what we're discussing. I think we still need to talk about the distribution scope."
The moment he said that—
The diary flipped again.
Another page refreshed.
[Reward Distribution Method Optimized]
[You are no longer required to immediately claim daily settlement rewards]
[You may now temporarily store certain items within the diary]
[Current storage limit: 3/3]
[Today's record completed. Evaluation: 'B'. Drawing reward…]
[Draw successful. Congratulations! You have obtained the item: 'Spotlight']
[Please view item details and claim your daily reward within 24 hours]
The reward that should have been issued earlier was now being presented.
This optimization was admittedly convenient.
Sure, rewards came with the perception filter, but sometimes he didn't need them immediately.
The biggest value of instant rewards was the psychological thrill of receiving them.
Actual usage wasn't always urgent.
He was running a slice-of-life script right now.
Not some crisis arc where he needed to awaken mid-battle with a diary reward.
So…
"Got any more?" Asakusa blinked.
The diary now felt like one of those magical machines—
Press the right button, say the right keyword, and it starts spewing upgrades and bonuses.
If all he had to do was repeat the issue about the diary's distribution scope being limited to Advanced Nurturing High School—
And it would avoid answering directly by throwing more updates at him—
Then not mashing the button would be a waste.
"…"
No response.
"Scope? Limitation? Didn't we agree it was only Classroom of the Elite?"
He probed carefully, searching for the most effective trigger phrase.
He found it.
The moment he said the third keyword—
The previously unresponsive diary reacted.
The text on the freshly added optimization page—
Began fading.
Black letters grew pale.
The page itself started shrinking—
As if the diary, offended, was about to revoke the upgrade entirely.
"Alright, alright, alright! I'll stop," Asakusa quickly cut in.
If it revoked the reply function, whatever.
But the reward storage?
That was non-negotiable.
Fine. This was good enough.
Originally, he had already been considering ways to trigger additional storylines to expand the diary's scope and reward pool.
Now that the diary had taken the initiative—
It was an opportunity.
Since squeezing more out of it seemed unlikely, this much would suffice.
First, check today's reward.
Then review the remaining message.
The moment the thought formed—
Information about the "Spotlight" surfaced in his mind.
[Name: Spotlight]
[Type: Item]
[Effect: Choose your target. The spotlight will descend from above.]
[Note: "Nobody gives a damn where the spotlight comes from. Just know this—you are the center of the stage!"]
This time, beyond text—
He could also preview the item's appearance in his mind.
The Spotlight looked… strange.
Not a handheld flashlight.
Not a massive stage lamp mounted on a ceiling.
Instead—
A plain, unremarkable small panel.
With four directional buttons—up, down, left, right.
And beside them, a button that looked like an Enter key.
Just as Asakusa was wondering how exactly this thing worked—
A demonstration sequence began playing in his field of vision.
The perspective seemed to be from a podium.
Standing onstage, overlooking a classroom filled with students.
The Spotlight device lay on the podium.
"He" reached out and picked it up.
Instantly—
A frame appeared in his vision.
More precisely—
A rectangular selection box automatically appeared over the student in the center of his sight.
"He" lifted the Spotlight—
Pressed a directional key.
The frame began moving.
Sliding left and right.
Forward and backward.
Across the students seated below.
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