Chapter 1: An Otaku-kun's Daily Life That Seems Like a Romcom, but Really Isn't

“—Hey, Otaku-kun.”

It was break time at school. As I sat in the classroom playing a mobile game to kill time, the girl in the seat next to mine suddenly spoke up.

“What kind of otaku are you, anyway?” she asked.

Turning her profile toward me, the blonde girl grinned mischievously, her big, round eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Huh? Where did that come from out of the blue?” I asked.

Her name was Tsukishiro Juria. With lustrous blonde hair cascading down her back, a fair complexion, striking, refined facial features that set her apart from everyone else, and a slender, shapely figure like a model's, she was an undeniable beauty. She wore her uniform with just the right amount of casual flair, even switching up her hairstyle and coordination depending on the day—a bona fide fashion expert.

The consummate gyaru who stood out more than anyone else in our class—that was Tsukishiro Juria.

Her striking up a conversation with an eternal tier-three guy like me was nothing new, despite her position at the very top of the tier-one girls. Tsukishiro was an extrovert through and through, usually found laughing and chattering noisily with her clique, but ever since our seats had been placed side by side, whenever she found herself bored at her desk, she would randomly strike up a chat—or rather, tease the life out of me.

“Well, you're called Otaku-kun because you're into some kind of otaku stuff, right? So I was just wondering what kind of otaku you actually are~”

“Give me a break. First off, you're the one who started calling me 'Otaku-kun' out of nowhere, Tsukishiro. I don't recall ever introducing myself with, 'Hey there, I'm an otaku,'” I retorted.

“Wait, was that really how it went?” she asked.

She tilted her head in faux confusion, wearing a playful, completely innocent grin brimming with charm.

“Come on, seriously. Thanks to you calling me that, it's completely stuck as my nickname. Sometimes people I don't even know call out to me with, 'Hey, Otaku-kun!'”

“But it's not like you're not an otaku, right? I mean, look at you—you're playing games every single break.”

Tsukishiro gave me a smug, self-satisfied look as if expecting me to agree. Good grief, there really is nothing scarier than a blade swung without malice.

“What era are you living in, thinking anyone who plays games is an otaku? Though, fine, I won't deny that I am one.”

“Then there's no problem! Otaku-kun it is~” she chirped.

Tsukishiro nodded repeatedly to herself, letting out a bright, cheerful giggle.

Before I knew it, I had been swept into her pace once again. So this was the social prowess of a gyaru. Terrifying.

Well, even though I put on a sulky act, having a cute gyaru call me Otaku-kun made me feel like the protagonist of a manga, so the truth was I didn't entirely mind. If I genuinely hated it, I would have pushed back with all my might.

“So, what kind of otaku are you after all?” she pressed.

“Let's see...” I replied. “If I had to specify, I guess I'm a Tsubaki Tendo otaku.”

“Tsubaki Tendo?” she echoed.

“Yeah. Here, this is my oshi, Tsubaki Tendo.”

Seeing the question mark practically floating above Tsukishiro's head, I smugly pulled open my uniform jacket to show off the Tsubaki Tendo T-shirt I was wearing underneath.

Printed on the shirt was an illustration of a girl roughly our age with soft, flowing pink hair, dressed in an adorable, girly outfit.

Yes—my oshi, Tsubaki Tendo.

Tsubaki Tendo was a VTuber.

Although she belonged to a major VTuber agency, she wasn't wildly popular by any stretch of the imagination.

Given that it was a major agency, though, that was somewhat inevitable. With so many talents on their roster, popularity naturally got diluted, and the heavy hitters carrying the agency's banner were almost entirely pioneers who had been around since the dawn of the VTuber boom.

Even so, out of the sea of countless VTubers out there, she had qualities that made me want to support her more than anyone else, traits that made me believe she was the cutest girl in the entire world.

By the way, I often hear that plenty of people feel insecure about their otaku hobbies, but I'm the opposite—an open book.

I mean, think about it. As long as you have genuine conviction in what you love, feeling ashamed of it seems far more absurd to me. Besides, feeling embarrassed would be downright disrespectful to my oshi, Tsubaki Tendo.

On top of that, there's no way you can ever be true friends with someone who fundamentally rejects the things you love. In fact, that eliminates any reason to get along in the first place.

After putting all that effort into superficial banter, the moment you come clean with “Actually, I'm an otaku,” having them visibly pull away is agonizing. All that effort vanishing down the drain in an instant... I never want to experience that again.

“Oho, she's cute! I see, so Otaku-kun is into flashy girls like this~” Tsukishiro remarked.

Staring intently at the illustration of Tsubaki Tendo, Tsukishiro flashed a suggestive smirk. Not that it mattered, but having a gyaru stare so fixedly at my torso was a little embarrassing. Even though I knew her interest was directed at Tsubaki, not at me.

“Her cute, stylish aesthetic gets high marks in my book. Honestly, Otaku-kun, I think your taste is pretty great!” she praised.

“Right? Exactly! Isn't she adorable? Tsubaki Tendo is what you'd call a 'gyaru who's sweet to otakus,' you see. But the amazing thing is, she's so clueless about internet memes that you wonder why on earth she ever decided to become a VTuber—which is about as deep into otaku culture as you can get! Her raw reactions are so pure and unbelievably cute, and on top of that, she actually feels bad about not being able to match our excitement on the same wavelength. Normally people don't do that, right? They'd just write otakus off as gross and move on! And then—”

“Whaaa...”

Seeing Tsukishiro staring blankly with eyes rounded into tiny dots, my impassioned speech singing Tsubaki's praises ground to a screeching halt.

Crap, I did it again. Once my switch was flipped, I couldn't help letting loose the passionate impulse raging inside me. It was a terrible habit of mine.

Thinking about it calmly, there was no way Tsukishiro would understand anything about memes.

It was only natural if she was totally creeped out.

I must look like an idiot preaching endlessly about something she has zero interest in. Even when talking about what you love, there are boundaries and moderation to consider.

Plunging into a pit of self-loathing, I cautiously checked Tsukishiro's reaction.

Suddenly coming back to her senses, Tsukishiro broke into a radiant smile.

“I get it, I get it! I didn't really understand most of what you said, but I definitely felt how passionately you love this Tendo girl. That's super cool!” she exclaimed.

She flashed me a thumbs-up, her expression bright and thoroughly delighted.

Seeing that, I let out a quiet sigh of relief in my chest. Tsukishiro Juria never belittled what other people loved. That was what made being around her so comfortable.

However, that didn't mean I could let myself get the wrong idea.

“Still, though~” she murmured.

Because...

“If you love gyarus that much, does that mean Otaku-kun might actually like a girl like me?”

Her lips curled upward, and Tsukishiro fixed me with a mischievous, teasing smirk.

“Huh?! Whoa, where is this coming from all of a sudden?!” I sputtered.

“I mean, I'm aiming to be a model, so I'm actually pretty confident in my figure, you know? Don't go saying boring stuff like, 'I'm not interested in real girls'~”

Leaning forward across her desk in a way that accentuated her chest, Tsukishiro wore a sly smile, watching closely for my reaction.

“Wha—”

Her bountiful, supple curves offered a sweet temptation. Even knowing full well that she was just teasing me, my gaze was glued to her as if under a spell.

Yes—this was Tsukishiro's true game.

She wasn't a “gyaru who was sweet to otakus.” She was a “gyaru who teased otakus.”

Her favorite way to pass the time during break was watching my painfully adolescent, inexperienced reactions and laughing her head off.

How many times had I already been toyed with by this little devil of a gyaru?

The only reason she had leaned in so eagerly to ask about Tsubaki in the first place wasn't because she cared about VTubers, but because she smelled prime material to tease me with.

“That girl had a pretty big chest too, but could it be that Otaku-kun is into stacked girls?” she teased.

“Like I'd ever tell you that, Tsukishiro,” I retorted.

Attempting a meager resistance, I averted my eyes to show my refusal. Forcing myself to hold back like this was painful.

Damn it, to think my usual policy as an unapologetic otaku of never compromising on what I love would backfire like this!

Still, if I surrendered to Tsukishiro's temptation here, I'd never be able to look at the Tsubaki T-shirt I was wearing again. Cheating right in front of her would be awful. Besides, during her romance advice stream the other day, Tsubaki said that if she had a boyfriend and caught him looking at another girl that way, she'd feel totally dejected. This was my moment to hold the line.

“Ehh, cheapskate. Oh, I know! What if I said that if you answer honestly, I'll let you touch my chest as a reward? What would you do then~?” she coaxed.

It was a demonic proposition from Tsukishiro, wearing a smile that practically screamed, This is a trap.

I didn't even have to think twice.

“I'd take you up on it, obviously! Or rather, what guy on earth doesn't love boobs?! Listen, as a foundational premise, the whole reason anyone falls for cute 2D girls is that he loves girls! And virtually every cute 2D girl has an ample bust! That right there already gives you the answer!”

An instant response. Driven purely by primal instinct, I declared it with a grand wave of my arms.

My grandma back in the countryside always said my honesty was my best quality.

“All right! Since I answered honestly, that means I get to touch your chest, right?” I asked eagerly.

“Huh? Not a chance in hell,” she replied flatly.

Deadpan face. Utterly serious tone. Grandma, I'm sorry. I screwed up.

“Ahaha! Oh, Otaku-kun, honestly! That was just going with the flow! Don't take it so seriously~” she laughed.

Tsukishiro straightened her uniform, flashing an awkward, slightly creeped-out courtesy laugh.

Damn it. This is exactly why I hate extrovert banter. The moment you play along, they immediately pull the rug out from under you.

I guess this is my divine retribution for betraying Tsubaki.

Sigh... Guess I'll just die.

“You're really something else compared to other people, Otaku-kun. You know, like how straightforward you are with your desires,” she observed.

“What kind of plain insult is that? First you treat me like a pervert, and now I'm a weirdo?” I complained.

“Oh, come on, that's not it! That was a compliment! To be honest, I actually really enjoy talking with you, Otaku-kun. Unlike other guys, I don't have to walk on eggshells or be weirdly considerate around you, so hanging out is super comfortable~” she said cheerfully.

“Yeah, yeah. You probably say that to everyone. I'm not falling for it and getting the wrong idea this time,” I grumbled.

Besides, that just means you don't see me as a guy at all.

“Ehh, but it's the truth~” she whined playfully.

Tsukishiro giggled mischievously.

The next moment, however, she rested her chin on her hand, her expression returning to a serious one.

“Oh, but still... If you have even the slightest desire to be liked by girls, Otaku-kun, I really think you should quit wearing that anime T-shirt. I personally don't mind it at all, but, you know, girls generally love fashion, right? And if a girl cares about her own style, there's no way she won't notice what other people wear. So I think you should put just a little more effort into looking stylish,” she advised.

She nodded thoughtfully, having genuinely analyzed my situation and offered sincere advice.

Yep. Guess I really will just die.

○

“Hey, Otaku.”

After school.

In the middle of my shift at the family restaurant, a distinctly displeased voice came flying my way.

I turned around to find a strikingly pretty blonde girl standing there with her arms crossed, glaring at me with an annoyed pout.

“You're just standing around with your hands free, so why haven't you done the restocking yet?” she demanded.

With sharp, slightly intimidating almond-shaped eyes accentuating her well-defined features, her healthy sun-kissed skin gave the short-skirted, three-quarter-sleeve waitress uniform an almost scandalous allure. Above all, her more-than-generous bust was positively sinful.

Her name was Inuyashiki Kogane.

She was my coworker here at Palette, a major family restaurant chain, and a fellow high school sophomore.

Of course, we attended different schools, and if not for this part-time job, we never would have crossed paths in our entire lives.

Much like Tsukishiro in my class, she undoubtedly spent her school days surrounded by good-looking guys and cute girls, fully enjoying a dazzling campus life.

“My bad. I was feeling a bit worn out and spaced out for a second. I'll get right on it,” I apologized.

We had far more customers today than usual. I had intended to take a one-minute breather before starting, but she couldn't have known that, and saying so now would only sound like a cheap excuse.

Accepting that this was entirely my negligence, I bowed my head. At that, Inuyashiki sighed with an exasperated look.

“Geez. If you knew, you should've done it before being told. That total lack of attentiveness is so typical of an otaku,” she chided.

“You say that like some handsome guy would automatically have it covered,” I remarked.

“Well, obviously! If it were someone like Hasegawa-kun from my class, he wouldn't just take care of it briskly without being asked—on an extra busy day like today, he'd be considerate of how tired I am and say something like, 'I'll handle this, go take a break first.'”

“Sounds like handsome guys have it rough in their own way, having such unreasonable expectations piled on them. I'm glad I'm just me.”

“That's your takeaway after hearing all that? Seriously, Otaku, you are so weird,” she muttered.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Inuyashiki gave me a cold, unimpressed stare.

“Well, I don't hate that about you, though. I don't have to watch what I say around you. Not that you aren't completely irrelevant to me, of course.”

Snorting derisively, Inuyashiki returned to her own duties. Not dumping her work onto me to slack off was very much like her; she looked like a party girl on the outside, but deep down, she was remarkably diligent.

By the way, Inuyashiki calling me “Otaku” didn't start because Tsukishiro had randomly showed up at my workplace and spread her “Otaku-kun” nickname around. No, it dated back to our very first meeting, when I had introduced myself while radiating full-blown otaku aura in an anime shirt, prompting her to look down on me with utter disdain and scoff, “Ugh, an otaku?”

I refused to tolerate anyone mocking what I loved. Under normal circumstances, keeping my distance and never interacting with her would have been the optimal solution, but when it came to work, I didn't have that luxury.

So despite feeling the vast gulf between our worlds, I carried on regular conversations without maintaining an icy distance, and Inuyashiki seemed to feel the same way.

In that sense, too, she was someone I never would have crossed paths with if we weren't coworkers.

That was the kind of person Inuyashiki Kogane was to me.

Anyway, if I stood around daydreaming forever, Inuyashiki was liable to yell at me again, so I needed to get moving.

The restocking Inuyashiki had mentioned referred to refilling the utensils like chopsticks and spoons at the counter and tables, as well as the condiments.

If we neglected this task, whenever the next rush hit, we'd end up stressed out from customers calling us over for needless complaints like “There are no forks or spoons” or “We're out of dressing,” so it was always best to get it done ahead of time.

I refilled the tabletop condiments like salad dressing that Inuyashiki had collected from the tables, then placed them back.

Meanwhile, Inuyashiki restocked the chopsticks, paper napkins, and other supplies.

Having started our part-time jobs around the same time more than six months ago, we frequently shared the same shifts as student workers. Before we knew it, we had fallen into a rhythm where we intuitively handled what the other needed without even speaking.

I personally quite liked this unspoken harmony of ours, and I'd be glad if Inuyashiki appreciated it even a fraction as much.

Once we finished that round of tasks, we ran out of things to do and were left with time on our hands.

With my back to the kitchen, I gazed idly across the sparsely populated dining floor. About two paces away, Inuyashiki stood twirling her bangs with her fingers, looking just as bored.

Weekday evening shifts were generally like this.

After the insane peak hours around six and seven died down, the customer rush would abruptly vanish as if the earlier chaos had been a lie.

By the way, as for why an introvert like me chose food service for a part-time job, one reason was obviously the high hourly wage. The other was that, being a major chain, they frequently ran anime collaborations.

Working surrounded by things you love naturally gets your spirits up. Lately, they'd been hosting plenty of VTuber collabs too. Sadly, their next collaboration partner was from a genre I had zero interest in.

“Hey, Otaku. What do you even do on days you don't have work?” she asked.

With her eyes still directed toward the customer seating, Inuyashiki casually tossed the question my way.

It wasn't particularly unusual for Inuyashiki to strike up small talk when she was bored. Between her and Tsukishiro, gyarus seemed to be universally incapable of enduring silence.

“Let's see...” I replied. “Usually reading manga, watching anime, playing games, and catching my oshi's streams, I guess.”

“Ew. Gross,” she blurted.

Inuyashiki promptly took a couple of steps further away from me.

“Hey, come on. You asked, so calling it gross is uncalled for. Even I have feelings, you know.”

“Because staying at home all the time is unbelievable. You're gonna grow mold,” she retorted.

“Grow mold...? You just made enemies of a whole lot of people, you know.”

“Anyway, if you're home all the time, why are you even working? It's not like you need money,” she pressed.

“Talk about a massive misconception. I need money to buy the manga and games I want. Besides, supporting your oshi costs serious cash.”

“Supporting your oshi...? Ah, you mean that creepy T-shirt you wear around with that smug look on your face,” she said flatly.

Her reaction when I showed off my Tsubaki T-shirt before had been freezing cold.

I wasn't asking for much, but couldn't she show at least zero point five Tsukishiros' worth of charm?

“Why don't you spend your money on something more meaningful? Isn't your life a total waste like this?” she questioned.

“Hold on, everyone has their own values. At the very least, it's plenty meaningful to me.”

“Considering anyone listening would be completely repulsed, I seriously doubt that,” she scoffed.

“Oh? And I suppose you spend your days off doing something truly incredible, Inuyashiki?”

“Hm, me? I usually hang out with friends, go to karaoke, check out clothes, or chill at a family restaurant shooting the breeze like those girls over there,” she answered nonchalantly.

“...I concede defeat.”

“What's with that condescending attitude? Not that beating you brings me any joy whatsoever,” she snapped.

Inuyashiki turned an utterly dumbfounded look upon me.

“Not that it matters, but none of those plans involve going on dates with a boyfriend, huh?” I noted.

“Huh? Why would they?” she asked defensively.

“What do you mean, why? You're gorgeous, Inuyashiki. I figured having one or two boyfriends would just be par for the course for you.”

“Having two boyfriends would be a massive problem, wouldn't it?! What, do you picture me as some loose girl who cycles through boyfriends like accessories? That's seriously insulting,” she fumed.

Inuyashiki glared at me with an offended scowl, but after a moment, she let out a sigh and shrugged.

“Still, you really are unusual. The guys I know who are like you are usually timid and lacking in confidence. The ones in my class are like that, at least. Compared to them, Otaku, you're weirdly composed. I never dreamed the day would come when a gloomy introvert like you would try to hit on me,” she mused.

“Huh? Hold on a second. When did I ever hit on you?!” I cried.

“You just said it a second ago. You called me gorgeous.”

“Hm? Ah, well, yes. But that wasn't meant as a pickup line—”

Since it would be annoying if she misunderstood, I carefully explained that I harbored no ulterior motives.

“Look, it's completely normal to see a puppy or a baby and think it's cute, right? In that exact same sense, I stated it simply because I genuinely think you're pretty. Even leaving my personal opinion aside, nine out of ten people would call you gorgeous. It wasn't flattery just because we're coworkers or anything—hm?”

“.........”

Noticing Inuyashiki staring at me with an indescribable expression, my words trailed off.

“What? What's with that look?” I asked.

“It's... self-loathing. I'm pissed at myself for feeling a little happy being called pretty, even if it's coming from an otaku like you... Besides, it's not like I've ever had someone say I'm gorgeous right to my face like that,” she muttered.

Her cheeks slightly flushed, Inuyashiki fidgeted with her bangs, muttering in embarrassment.

“And just so you don't get the wrong idea, I'm gonna say this right now—I don't have a boyfriend right now. I'm actively looking.”

“O-oh. I-is that so...?”

For her to make that confession in this kind of mood, could this be the start of a workplace romance...?

“Wait, what's with that reaction? Did you seriously think you had a shot? Cut it out, that's creepy,” she shot down immediately.

Okay, I was being an absolute idiot just now. I will never let myself wonder "what if" ever again.

“Well, not that it matters to me. But if you have even a normal desire for a girlfriend, Otaku, maybe you should stop sinking money into pointless hobbies at your age. Nothing in life is so convenient that you get what you want without putting in any effort. As you are right now, who would ever want to be your girlfriend?”

She pointed her finger sharply at my face.

“Y-yeah.”

Immediately afterward, the customer call chime sounded, and Inuyashiki promptly answered with a “Coming!” before heading off.

That was her own way of giving advice, wasn't it? Even so, today was turning out to be an unusually heavy day for getting advice from gyarus.

Inuyashiki was surprisingly meddlesome, and despite claiming that handsome guys wouldn't make girls work, she actually took the initiative to shoulder the tasks herself. She was genuinely a good person.

I soaked in the sentiment while prepping in advance for the order Inuyashiki was taking.

Knowing full well that she despised my otaku hobbies and looked down on me, I still couldn't bring myself to dislike her.

○

“Oh, Shounen-kun, good work today~” a cheerful voice called out.

On my way home from work. As I walked toward my room in the apartment complex where I lived alone, an older woman smoking a cigarette ahead waved cheerfully to me.

“Arisaka-san. Good evening.”

Walking over to her side, I offered a polite nod.

With a stylishly asymmetrical bob cut and sharp, refined features, she exuded cool composure rather than cuteness. Her chic, casual-suit attire further accentuated her mature, aloof, and almost ethereal beauty.

Arisaka Yaiba. A female college student living in the unit next door.

The apartment complex I lived in was a so-called maisonette style, where the first floor had standard rooms, while the second-floor units had their own private ground-floor entryways with stairs leading up to an identical floor plan above.

I lived on the ground floor in Room 102, and Arisaka-san lived right next door in Room 202.

By the way, the official reason I lived on my own away from my parents was that commuting to high school by train from my family's house took about an hour and a half. Or at least, that was the public excuse. My true motive was entirely different: I wanted an environment where I could devote myself to otaku activities to my heart's content.

The school I attended, Kinmei High School, was a preparatory school renowned as the most academically rigorous in the region.

Naturally, when I set my sights on Kinmei High School and proposed living nearby to focus on my studies once admitted, my parents raised no objections whatsoever.

Located in the prefecture's downtown core, the area boasted not only anime shops but also specialty stores usually found only in major metropolitan cities. On top of that, a live concert venue had recently opened, making it practically the ideal haven for otaku pursuits.

“A high schooler out wandering this late at night? How scandalous. Try to keep your nightlife in check,” she remarked.

“Ahaha. It's not nightlife, I just got off work. Though you already knew that, didn't you?” I asked wryly.

“Heh. Indeed. If that Shounen-kun were ever to stray down such a colorful path, it would surely portend a natural disaster, and I would stake my entire fortune on disaster prevention stocks,” she chuckled.

Exhaling a plume of smoke, Arisaka-san gave a mysterious smile.

Is it just my imagination, or was that an extraordinarily roundabout insult?

Arisaka-san was often smoking outside the building right around the time I returned from my shift. At first, our relationship was limited to polite nods in passing as neighbors, but somewhere along the line, we had started stopping to chat whenever we ran into each other.

“More importantly, Shounen-kun, would you lend me an ear for a moment?” she asked.

Cigarette in hand, Arisaka-san leaned forward and spoke.

Her topics were almost always venting about her frustrations.

“That app business for the elderly I mentioned the other day? It fell through,” she announced.

“Ah, if I recall, with paperless systems and various procedures going digital, you were developing an all-in-one support app with an interactive AI for seniors who aren't tech-savvy and get left behind, right?”

“Indeed. That was the plan, but during the user interview phase, I stumbled upon an unforeseen flaw,” she explained.

As an economics student, Arisaka-san's goal was reportedly to establish a viable business plan and launch a startup while still enrolled in university.

She had once proudly declared that she participated in various communities and seminars to expand her network, keeping her antennae tuned to all kinds of fields.

“It turns out they couldn't even use the app properly, stubbornly insisting 'I don't get machines' and refusing to even try learning. Even though mastering it would make all those procedures so much easier. In short, no matter how revolutionary an idea you devise, it's meaningless if the target audience is essentially chimpanzees wearing human skin.”

“C-chimpanzees might be a bit much...” I stammered.

“It is truly a pity, especially after I went all the way to the engineering department's circle, identified some boys who seemed skilled at programming, and was just about ready to move into execution,” she sighed.

“As expected of you, Arisaka-san. Having connections who'd take on such a difficult task shows how wide your network is,” I praised.

In my mind, those types tended to be difficult to deal with and rarely gave their stamp of approval easily.

“Hm? No, that was the first time I'd ever met them, but they were all very agreeable, wonderful people,” she replied.

Taking a drag of her cigarette, Arisaka-san answered with a self-satisfied chuckle.

In other words, she effortlessly reeled them in using her feminine charm.

When approached by a gorgeous woman with a stunning figure like Arisaka-san, of course any guy would want to live up to her expectations. Not that I had any room to talk, but STEM guys in particular seemed notoriously lacking in immunity to women.

“Mmh. And here I thought I would finally construct a fresh business plan this time,” she grumbled.

Arisaka-san pouted with sulky lips. The childlike side displayed by someone who was usually so cool held devastating destructive power—it was downright unfair. Way too cute.

“Say, Shounen-kun, do you happen to have any interesting ideas?” she inquired.

Arisaka-san asked in a listless voice.

Apparently, she was exhausted enough to rely on a humble high schooler.

Well, let me think for a second.

I-it's not like I'm weak to requests from beautiful women or anything.

“...Well,” I suggested, “how about gaming proxy services?”

“Gaming proxy services? Ah, I heard about that in a community group I attended previously. You mean leveling up characters or farming items on someone else's behalf in online games, right? But doesn't that violate the terms of service in many games? It's quite a gray area, isn't it?”

Even though she didn't seem like the type to play games, she still possessed a fair amount of knowledge—as expected of the action-oriented dynamo that was Arisaka-san. She really did have antennae planted everywhere.

“What I'm proposing isn't recent stuff like that, but much older games—retro games, essentially.”

“Retro games?” she asked.

“Yes. I believe there are plenty of people out there who want to replay a specific scene or re-experience a certain story event from an old game. But they don't have that kind of time. I thought helping those people could be viable.”

“I see,” she nodded.

“On top of that, unlike modern games, older games didn't have easy undos or quick saves, and their story-branching flags were notoriously intricate—an absolute parade of tedious hassles. That's precisely why there might be demand for someone to handle it on their behalf.”

This wasn't from personal experience; I was just parroting what a certain VTuber had grumbled about during a chat stream. That was apparently why retro game playthrough streams had steady demand.

“Hmm, I see. That is a fine idea,” she acknowledged.

Having listened thoughtfully while puffing on her cigarette, Arisaka-san lowered the cigarette from her mouth, her expression softening.

“Really?” I asked, feeling an involuntary surge of pride at receiving praise from a mature woman.

Being acknowledged by an adult woman made me genuinely thrilled.

“Yes. However, if there is one drawback, it is that I have absolutely zero interest in that sort of thing. When pitching this idea as a proposal to various parties, I have no confidence that I could properly convey the passion behind it,” she admitted.

“Well... that makes sense...” I murmured.

“Still, the business of reviving nostalgic memories... It is an intriguing perspective. Truly, Shounen-kun, you are quite unusual. Oh, and I mean that in a positive way, of course,” she added.

“Please don't think tacking on 'in a positive way' gives you a free pass for everything,” I retorted.

“Come to think of it, do you have any goals or dreams yourself, Shounen-kun?” she asked.

“Goals? Sure do,” I replied.

“Oh? Would you mind sharing?”

“Buying my oshi's engagement ring. That's why I'm working so hard at my job right now—in fact, you could say it's practically what keeps me alive.”

“Oho. An engagement ring, is it...?”

Arisaka-san gazed up at the night sky while puffing on her cigarette. Ah, she completely lost interest.

This woman loved talking about herself, but seemed rather indifferent to others. Dry, for better or worse. Though I supposed that was part of what made her so cool.

“Um, are you actually listening? It's pretty disheartening when someone asks a question and then acts completely disinterested in the answer,” I pointed out.

This was a classic otaku grievance, not just with Arisaka-san. Whenever someone asks about your hobbies and you reply with otaku interests, they instantly make a face like “Never mind, I'm good.” I want to ask them: What on earth did you expect when you brought up the topic in the first place?

“Of course I am. Even so, for you to invest so much passion into it, it must be quite something. By the way, how much does it cost? Being a ring, it must be fairly expensive, no?”

“Yeah. Around two hundred thousand yen,” I answered.

“T-two hundred thousand?!” she gasped.

Her shout was remarkably uncharacteristic of her usual cool demeanor, and she nearly dropped the cigarette from her fingers in sheer shock.

“My apologies, it seems I misheard. Forgive me, but would you repeat that?” she asked, flustered.

“Two hundred thousand is correct. I don't know much about jewelry, so I can't tell if the ring itself is worth that, but it comes with a marriage certificate bearing her handwritten signature! In other words, as long as I have this, I can marry Tsubaki! Two hundred thousand is a total bargain. Honestly, the ring is practically just a bonus.”

“I see. Your head is truly filled with flowers, Shounen-kun. In a positive way, of course.”

A gentle smile graced her face.

Like hell it is! Why does this woman think the phrase "in a positive way" possesses godlike omnipotence?

As I fixed Arisaka-san with a deadpan stare, she suddenly started as if struck by inspiration, resting her hand on her chin in deep thought.

“Wait. Perhaps targeting vulnerable, socially awkward men like this could actually prove remarkably lucrative. As a baseline, targets like Shounen-kun don't spend money on grooming or socializing, meaning they have ample disposable income—”

Hey, she just started rattling off some extraordinarily insulting things at high speed!

“Oops, pardon me. I got lost in my own world for a moment. Yes, thanks to you, Shounen-kun, another business idea is already taking shape. I must express my gratitude to you,” she said warmly.

Beaming, Arisaka-san grasped my hand and pumped it enthusiastically.

“Y-yeah...”

She was thrilled, but I felt vaguely depressed.

“Well, Tsubaki's stream is about to start soon, so I'll be taking my leave,” I announced.

On weekdays, Tsubaki's streams usually kicked off around eleven or midnight.

Finishing my bath and chores before the broadcast, then wrapping myself in my futon to wait for the stream to start.

That was my daily routine.

“Right. See you around, Shounen-kun,” she waved.

Waving to each other, we headed back to our respective rooms.

And so, that was the perfectly ordinary daily life of me, Ashida Masato.

School during the day, shifts at my part-time job three days a week after class, and listening to Arisaka-san vent at night if she was around.

Then, watching Tsubaki's stream, drifting off to sleep in pure bliss enveloped by the voice of my oshi.

Not bad at all.

Taking just the broad strokes, it made me feel like the protagonist of a romantic comedy.

Well, aside from the minor detail that not a single one of the heroine candidates saw me as a member of the opposite sex.

Still, it was precisely because we all knew nothing would ever happen that we could talk so freely without reservations.

Though I had once resolved to live true to what I loved and discard everything else as trivial, these girls had taught me the joy of conversing with others.

I was incredibly blessed.

I hoped this dynamic would continue forever, and if any of them ever found themselves in trouble, I wanted to help in whatever way a guy like me could.

That being said, the more time I spent around women, the more my longing grew, convincing me that life with an actual girlfriend would surely be even more wonderful.

I mean, seriously. A normal relationship already brought this much fulfillment. What would happen if it were with a girl who actually held romantic feelings for me?

Dear God, please bless me with an encounter with a pure, kind girl who understands otaku hobbies and might actually become my girlfriend.

ToC