It had been about a week since I first started visiting Konoe’s place.
On the first day, I began with a lecture on art history from the Renaissance period. The second day was about the life and mysteries of Leonardo da Vinci. On the third day, I delved into Japanese art history, and on the fourth day, I gave a lecture on manga and Osamu Tezuka. By the fifth day, I had covered otaku culture and the world of otome games. Though I skipped over the weekends, every weekday I would stand in front of Konoe’s room for about an hour giving lectures on miscellaneous trivia.
Now, I was even preparing my protest material in a memo app on my smartphone. I didn’t quite understand why I was doing all this, but thinking about what kind of lecture I should give tomorrow while taking a bath wasn’t so bad.
“Today, let’s talk about otome games and the seiyuu scene, leading into the 2.5D world—”
“What exactly are you?”
Just as I was getting ready to start my lecture, I heard a voice through the door.
“You’ve finally responded,” I said. “Well, yeah, of course I would. You’ve been coming every single day, uninvited, talking about all these random things…” “Huh? But weren’t you at least enjoying it a little? That’s kind of disappointing…”
I felt disheartened after putting so much effort into preparation.
“Some of it was interesting, though…”
The voice that initially sounded like a protest had lost its intensity. I guessed she must be gentle by nature.
“But why? Why go so far just for some drawings?”
I couldn’t exactly tell her there was another reason.
“If you’ve been listening to my previous lectures, you should understand. I aspire to be a dilettante. So even if they’re just drawings to you, Konoe-san, they hold value for me.”
It wasn’t a lie—I genuinely loved literature and art, and if possible, I wanted to live off royalties without working.
“You don’t even know me…” “You don’t need to have met someone to support a voice actor or anime character. Physical contact isn’t necessary for being a fan. I’m supporting you as a painter.”
“You’re a strange person…” “I might be.”
Suddenly, I heard the sound of a lock clicking open. The door creaked open a few centimeters.
“Just come in…” came a soft voice slipping through the gap. With my hand on the doorknob, I said, “Excuse me,” and pushed the door open.
Konoe was wearing light blue pajamas. Having spent so much time cooped up indoors, her hair had grown long, parted neatly down the middle. Her natural hair quality seemed good, so it wasn’t too unkempt, but it still looked excessively long. Her skin was pale, probably from not seeing sunlight, and her double-lidded eyes peeked out between strands of her bangs, full of intensity. There was something slightly decadent about her, but even that only added to her charm.
(If you put her next to Iwanaga, it’s no wonder people fantasize about forbidden love…)
Yes, if a boy were living together with such a beautiful girl, it would definitely feel like a romantic comedy manga.
“What? Why are you staring…?” “Ah, no, um…”
I suddenly averted my gaze. My mind automatically tried to infer things about her personality based on her expression and demeanor. I looked away to stop my brain from running wild.
“You were just talking nonstop earlier, and now you’re suddenly quiet? Don’t do that.” “Sorry, um… I’m not really good at talking face-to-face with people… Please ignore me…”
As I spoke, I avoided looking at Konoe and instead scanned the room. Despite her being a shut-in, the room was immaculately tidy—too tidy, in fact. There was a bed, a desk, and a bookshelf, but nothing else. It was a starkly simple room, almost as if everything unnecessary had been stripped away. Among the monotony, my eyes landed on a splash of color: the bookshelf was lined with manga, and among them, I spotted a familiar spine.
(Huh? Is that my book!?)
There it was: Crying on Your Back by Koizuka Sakuya.
“…Do you read novels, Konoe-san?” “Huh? Yeah, do you?” “Uh… hehehe… no, hehehe…” “What’s with that laugh…?” “Nothing, nothing… hehehe…”
My cheeks couldn’t help but relax into a smile. Konoe, sitting on the edge of the bed, gestured for me to sit. I perched awkwardly on the floor. And then I froze.
(Huh? What should I say now?)
I was used to rambling freely, letting words flow like water, spouting knowledge from books I’d read. But I knew well enough that this wasn’t real communication.
“So, what do you want from me?” “Ah, um… I was really moved by the painting you drew…” “I heard that already, but did you really come here every day for a week just to tell me that?” “Well, yes…” “Are you serious?”
It was understandable that she doubted my sanity.
“No, um… I just thought I’d try to get to know you better…” “It’s kind of hard to feel close to someone who’s been coming over every day for a week. Honestly, it’s a little scary.”
She stared at me with genuine suspicion. For a moment, I wondered if she had trust issues. The idea that someone hurt or betrayed her, leading to her distrust and isolation, was a common narrative. But somehow, the atmosphere she carried felt different.
(Is it less about distrust and more about lacking confidence in herself? Does she think decorating her room or dressing up is pointless because she doesn’t see any value in it? If she were a true minimalist, there wouldn’t even be books on the shelf. Maybe she discarded everything until only things related to her inner self remained. Could this empty room be a form of self-harm? Why would she do that? Does she think she has no value? Ah… is that why she’s suspicious of me coming here every day for someone she thinks has no worth?)
Realizing I was profiling her unnecessarily, I fell into self-loathing. But at the same time, I understood that I needed to offer a clear motive to win her over.
“Actually… someone asked me to look into something for them.”
At my words, Konoe crossed her arms and legs—a clear sign of psychological defense.
“Do you know someone named Shiraishi Yutaka?”
Konoe’s eyes widened. “Shiraishi-kun?” she repeated, clearly surprised by the unexpected topic. Her defensive posture relaxed slightly.
“Yes, Shiraishi Yutaka from the art club. A second-year.” “I know him, but what about it?” “Did you ever date him?” “Me? Date Shiraishi-kun?”
She opened her eyes wide in shock before dismissing the idea with a laugh. “No way.” She didn’t seem to be lying. It appeared to be the truth.
“So you never dated him? Not even a little?” “Of course not! Are you saying there were rumors about us dating?” “Yes.” “…We did talk a lot. We were in the same art club. But that’s all.”
I stared at her intently, but her expression showed no signs of discomfort.
(So Konoe’s isolation isn’t due to a curse…)
There were rumors that Konoe’s withdrawal was caused by a car accident, but Asaichi had warned me not to ask her about it. Until now, I had assumed that her relationship with Shiraishi led to the accident, which in turn caused her to shut herself away.
“Is that all you wanted to ask?” “Ah, yes. That’s all. But, um… there’s one more thing I wanted to say, something I was asked to convey.” “What’s that?” “Um… even if coming to school is difficult, maybe you should try leaving your room? That’s what I was told to say.”
Konoe furrowed her brow slightly and averted her gaze, hesitating. Sensing her discomfort, I quickly backtracked.
“Ah, sorry! That was presumptuous of me! Of course, you must have your reasons! I mean, I don’t have many friends either!”
I stood up as I spoke.
“Um, do you have any interests? I’ll base my next lecture on that.” “You’re planning to come again?” “Yes, I am. I was asked to.” “By who?”
I couldn’t say Asaichi’s name.
“That’s a secret.”
I picked up my bag.
“Well, I’ll take my leave now.”
And with that, I fled from Konoe’s room.
