Chapter 57

"Takahashi-san, I feel like there's no point in me being here anymore."

"Huh?"

Takahashi Mio, sitting in the corner of the empty classroom, blinked at the girl in front of her.

Her almond-shaped eyes widened; she grabbed the other girl's arm. "What's wrong? Why would you say something like that all of a sudden, Nagata?"

Realizing how it had sounded, Nagata Nanase shook her head. "I didn't mean it like that... I mean, you don't need me to study well anymore. I don't think I can help you with anything now."

Mio's progress had caught her off guard. In just two weeks the former slacker who couldn't even focus had caught up—her test answers and scene analyses were now on par with Nanase's own. That couldn't have come from classes alone; Mio must have been working after hours. Which meant Nanase's supervision was no longer necessary.

"Huh? That's not true."

Mio scratched the back of her head. "I'm already used to studying, drilling, and talking things through with you. If it has any 'meaning', it's mostly psychological. If the person who's willing to grind alongside me suddenly disappeared, I'd be lost for a while."

Nanase opened her mouth, then gave a small, rare smile. "Then from now on, Takahashi-san, you don't have to pay me for tutoring."

Nanase's face was usually frozen; seeing her smile left Mio stunned for a second. Then a voice inside her shouted:

No more payments!

Free!

That's another hundred thousand yen saved every month—closer to clearing my debt!

Outwardly, though, she looked embarrassed. "Are you sure? Your help really means a lot to me."

"Positive."

Nanase shook her head, clearly done with the topic. She voiced the question that had been bothering her: "Have you had some kind of breakthrough lately? Your improvement is huge."

"Breakthrough?" Mio hesitated. "Not really. I've just... watched more films lately and practiced basic actor drills. I understand the material better now."

She stopped short of mentioning the special training classes—not from distrust, but because admitting them would feel like erasing her own effort, as if Nanase might think, Oh, so it was all thanks to the course. Besides, a small vanity wanted praise—lots of it.

Instead, Nanase frowned. "Are you seriously planning to become an actress?"

"Yes."

Nanase studied her in silence. With that face and figure, Mio already looked the part. Still, she warned, "Think it through. Throwing yourself into this path might not be as smooth as you imagine."

"What do you mean?"

"Takahashi-san, what do you think matters most for an actor?"

"Looks? Talent?"

"Neither."

Nanase's voice was flat but firm. "Opportunity. Without a platform, even the best talent has nowhere to shine. You're in the literature department, and even our own majors fight tooth and nail for a five-second extra role. Only after you land a role can you start talking about dreams."

Mio's mind drifted to what Shiratori Kiyoya had told her, and a warm feeling blossomed in her chest.

Writing scripts just for me, huh...

You sly guy...

For a moment she forgot to question whether he could actually write a good script. He must have foreseen exactly what Nanase was saying—known that without a performance background she could be pushed aside—so he'd started learning screenwriting himself.

The joy showed in her smile. She was about to speak when her phone buzzed twice on the desk.

It was Kitajo Shione. Mio made up an excuse to send Nanase away, then opened the message.

"Long time no chat. How did that thing go the other day, Takahashi-san?"

She finally caved, huh? Feeling victorious, Mio's eyes flushed red like autumn maples. Though Shione couldn't see her, she answered with her most sincere smile.

"You mean about Kiyoya's first love? Yeah, nothing happened. She's not at our school anymore."

It wasn't a lie, yet reading those words, Shione's face darkened.

This pea-brained peacock...

Shiratori Kiyoya and Hasegawa Saori definitely did something; otherwise she'd be gloating. If they'd been innocent, Saori would have rushed to rub it in. Instead she was acting like a child who'd stolen candy and was pretending to be mute.

A bad premonition stirred in Shione's gut. Saori had probably gotten what she wanted—that was why she'd stopped replying. Shione had let them meet partly to see how far Kiyoya would go for Saori, confident he wouldn't outright agree with Mio in the picture. But it seemed she'd underestimated him.

Stupid peacock.

Shione cursed Mio again, too tired to keep up the charade. In the agency lounge she took a steadying breath, then opened Kiyoya's chat and typed:

"Sorry, Kiyoya..."

In his living room, Kiyoya had just set the freshly-unlocked LV2 script on the table and was about to call a director when the cryptic apology popped up.

He frowned, about to send a question mark, when another message arrived.

"I heard about the kendo club from Takahashi-san. I'm sorry—I shouldn't have told Hasegawa about your relationship."

He scowled harder. You heard it from Takahashi Mio? When? She'd shown him their almost-empty chat logs. So when exactly had Mio told her?

Eyes narrowing, Kiyoya shelved the question for now and replied:

"Got it. Anything else?"

Shione: Did she cause any trouble?

Kiyoya: Not really. She made a request; I agreed.

Shione: A request? Was it excessive? This is my fault—I can help fix it...

Kiyoya: I promised to marry her.

...