Every dish served for breakfast in the presidential suite could only be described as the epitome of luxury.
Just seeing the spread with the naked eye made one think—staying in the presidential suite was so worth it.
It didn't just look good—it smelled and tasted amazing, too. Even someone who wasn't a foodie would, after one bite, subconsciously wonder: Are these made with top-tier ingredients?
As they ate, the fruit tart that Eiren Kanagawa had brought began to lose its appeal and was gradually forgotten. Fortunately, after the meal, when Kotomi Izumi still had room for dessert, she casually polished off three-quarters of it.
After all, Mashiro Shiina and the others were too full to continue.
The last quarter was saved for the train ride home.
"I didn't expect these three days to pass so quickly. The next time you come to Kyoto, give me a call in advance, and I'll take you around properly," Eiren said, pouring herself a cup of black tea.
Then, with a meaningful glance at Kotomi, she added, "Of course, if you're willing to attend university in Kyoto, you'll have an even better chance to get to know this city."
Kotomi immediately picked up on the underlying message—another invitation from Eiren. Clearly, Twilight Sky: Sunset had left a deep impression on her.
Unlike the aloof protagonists of light novels who roll their eyes at prestigious university invitations, Kotomi was thrilled every time she heard one.
She wanted her paintings to stay in the minds of faculty from multiple elite universities—stirring up admiration, igniting a desire to recruit her. Ideally, a professor from Tokyo University would show the same eagerness as Eiren Kanagawa, constantly urging her to apply.
The reason she hadn't accepted Eiren's offer yet was simple: this was just the first round of the exhibition. There would be a second phase, during which more invitations would be sent out.
Until the winner of the National Art Award was officially announced, Kotomi maintained a deliberately vague attitude toward all invitations from professors and universities.
In short—she was casting a wide net.
She intended to use this exhibition to negotiate for the best possible outcome.
Agreeing to Kyoto University's offer now would make her look like a high school first-year who had secured a 70% shot at enrollment. A stress-free high school life with no entrance exam pressure—a dream future!
But with the experience of her second life, Kotomi knew better. No matter how well-meaning Eiren seemed, she would still unconsciously see Kotomi as just another high school student. She wouldn't offer too many benefits.
It was human nature: if something costs 9 yen, who would willingly pay 10?
In fact, she might try to bargain down from 9 to 7, and maybe even sneak a few perks in her favor.
Kazumi, the system, deeply understood this.
Despite being the system, she wasn't squeezing her host for rewards—quite the opposite. Kotomi had practically been milking her dry. In under two months, she had managed to siphon nearly 50,000 Fame Points from Kazumi without lifting a finger!
Kazumi felt lucky, honestly. If that truck really had sent Kotomi to another world, with her "chaotic evil" talents, she wouldn't need a cheat ability to defeat a Demon King. Just through instinctive manipulation and cunning, she'd dominate the slave trade and corner the market in no time.
She'd make the locals feel like they got a good deal—while bleeding them dry.
The title of "Supreme Scammer of the Otherworld" was practically destined for Kotomi.
Still, to be fair, Eiren Kanagawa's invitations were sincere. She wasn't offering exaggerated promises—just practical, achievable benefits.
Sincerity was one thing, but when it came to anything involving her own future, Kotomi never let her guard down. She moved with extreme caution, treating each step like walking on thin ice.
From the moment Eiren had first extended an offer, Kotomi had already set her plan in motion: stall until the finalists for the National Art Award were announced, draw out the tension, and use that time to secure the most favorable deal possible.
Then, in the two weeks before the winners were made public, she would choose the most attractive offer, finalize a contract, and only then accept a university's invitation.
Verbal promises were worthless. No matter how passionate the oath, how many favors were invoked—if it wasn't on paper, it meant nothing. Only legally binding agreements counted.
To that end, Kotomi had already hired a lawyer. At a high price.
Though she was well-versed in social nuance, the legal domain required true professionals. She offered her attorney not just the standard fee, but also a hefty red envelope on top.
It cost her more than half of her manuscript earnings—but to Kotomi, it was worth every yen.
Why finalize a deal before the award results?
Simple: before the winner is announced, she exists in a space of maximum mystery and potential.
What you can't have always stirs the heart; the most alluring thing is always the unknown.
Of course, if she did win the award, both she and Twilight Sky: Sunset would skyrocket in prestige.
But the issue was—Kotomi didn't have full confidence in her chances of winning.
Until the results were official, she was receiving countless enticing offers. But if she didn't win, her value would plummet overnight. There would still be invitations, sure—but the perks would be slashed. Even if her art skills were undeniable.
She was confident, but not arrogant. In this matter, Kotomi—true to her usual self—had prepared multiple contingencies.
The safest route was to lock in the best possible offer before the winner was revealed, through a signed contract, ensuring that her academic path was secure.
At the very least, she would have a prestigious Japanese university as a fallback.
Even if she didn't win the award, the contract would be binding. The other party would be obligated to honor it, regardless of their feelings.
Whether you like it or not, with this contract, you have to let me into your university—and uphold every benefit you promised.
As Kotomi skillfully shifted the conversation again, Eiren Kanagawa's expression remained unchanged, though inwardly she sighed:
This girl's depth runs terrifyingly deep. Even with all the incentives I've offered, she keeps things deliberately vague. Mashiro... just what kind of person have you fallen for? Will you really be able to lead the way in this relationship?
"We'll meet at the hotel entrance in thirty minutes. I'll take you to the station," said Eiren Kanagawa as she stood up to take her leave.
"Thank you, Professor Kanagawa~"
"If you really feel thankful, then hurry up and agree to apply for Kyoto University's art department."
"Hehehe, I'm still young, just a first-year high schooler, I don't really get it~"
Kotomi gave her a harmless, innocent smile, making Eiren internally grumble, Young? With how deep your mind runs, even I can't see through you! If reality weren't so absurd, Eiren would almost suspect Kotomi was some kind of reincarnated protagonist.
Such depth and calculation in a sixteen-year-old girl was hard to believe.
"I'll head back to my room to pack up," said Hibiki Naegi, standing as well. She hadn't packed yet, though she hadn't brought much luggage.
But the thought of returning home, where Seiko Kirigiri was still upset with her, filled Hibiki with dread. She even felt a fleeting desire not to go home at all.
Why do I feel like I don't want to see Seiko right now? Am I just too emotionally drained?
Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. She had tried calling Seiko yesterday to smooth over the rift caused by that photo, but they ended up in a heated argument. If she hadn't hung up in time, things might have spiraled even further out of control.
In the past, they were always inseparable. Even when Seiko was immature or childish, Hibiki had only found it adorable and had wanted to love her with all her heart.
But now, after their most serious fight yet, the very thought of Seiko's immaturity made Hibiki feel crushed under emotional pressure. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.
If only Seiko could be a little more mature... Hibiki silently wished.
If you asked her now whether she preferred a partner to be mature or youthful, Hibiki would probably choose the former—after a brief hesitation.
"N-Naegi, let's go. Do you need help packing?" Eiren Kanagawa's mature voice rang out beside her. With her signature red lips, dark eye makeup, and high heels, she carried an allure few students could resist.
Snapping out of her thoughts, Hibiki quickly shook her head. "No, thank you, Professor. I didn't bring much. I can handle it myself."
"Oh? Is that so? Then let's get going. We can take the elevator together. Kotomi, Mashiro—make sure you're ready on time. Don't be the last to show up after finishing early."
"Don't worry, we won't," Kotomi replied with a smile, seeing them off.
Hibiki and Eiren walked side by side into the elevator. Because of her personality, Hibiki always stood in the corner of an elevator, regardless of how crowded it was.
If this had been earlier in the trip, Hibiki might have used the opportunity to grow closer to Eiren. Her skills were decent, good enough to get into a solid university via art entrance exams.
But her goal was a prestigious university's art department.
And by her own honest assessment, her current skill level wasn't quite there.
People often said the regular college entrance exams were like thousands fighting to cross a single-plank bridge. But that didn't mean art exams were easy.
On the contrary—getting into a top university via art exams was just as hard, if not harder.
Because success in art often came down to talent.
For a long time, Hibiki had dreamed of becoming a real artist—of going far on the path of art.
-But now, those fantasies were beginning to show cracks. For Hibiki in this moment, maybe it was enough if her art could land her a spot at a prestigious university, and later secure a well-paying job with no worries about food or shelter. That alone might be enough to justify the years she spent struggling in art.
But is it really enough...?
"Hey."
Hibiki was pulled out of her thoughts by Eiren Kanagawa's mature and charming voice.
"Sorry, Professor Kanagawa. I was just... lost in thought."
"I could tell. I called your name several times."
"Apologies."
Hibiki lowered her head unconsciously.
"Don't apologize so easily." Eiren waved a hand to dismiss it, then added, "I was wondering... could you stay in Kyoto for a few more days?"
"Eh?"
Hibiki's expression changed slightly as she instinctively took a small step away.
"Don't get the wrong idea. I am, after all, a university professor—I would never force you into anything inappropriate."
"It's just... if you're willing, I'd like for you to stay a few more days and spend time with me. You could stay at my place, or continue staying at a hotel—I'll cover the expenses. I know it's sudden and may seem suspicious, like I have some kind of hidden agenda."
"But I really don't. I just realized I'd like to get to know you better."
She looked Hibiki straight in the eyes and gave a deep bow.
"I sincerely apologize for my cold attitude when we first met. It wouldn't be wrong to call it favoritism. I'm sorry. If you can't forgive me... then don't. I'll accept that."
Hibiki was stunned for a moment, then let out a soft, forgiving smile.
"It's okay, Professor. You were distant before because you didn't see any talent in me, right?"
Eiren hesitated briefly, then nodded. "Yes... I'm sorry."
I've seen students without talent push themselves to the brink, sometimes even with tragic outcomes. That's why I tried to warn you... But she didn't say it aloud. She just held Hibiki's gaze in the descending elevator.
Hibiki stared quietly back at her, and something in that gaze made Eiren uneasy. Reflexively, she added:
"If you're willing, I could tutor you for a few days."
That one simple sentence struck Hibiki's heart like a heavy blow.
The temptation in those few words was almost impossible to resist. If she agreed to stay and study under Eiren, maybe—just maybe—she could break through the bottleneck she currently faced.
Ding.
The elevator arrived at the ground floor.
The two stood silently, locked in eye contact.
After a long pause, Hibiki finally spoke:
"No, thank you..."
Eiren's eyes widened slightly in surprise, then she gave a bitter smile and rubbed her temple.
"Ah... I see. Understood. Go pack your bags, then. I'll take you all to the station."
She turned and walked off, leaving Hibiki alone in the elevator lobby.
Half an hour later.
Kotomi Izumi, Mashiro Shiina, and Hibiki Naegi all finished packing and met up at the hotel entrance. True to her word, Eiren Kanagawa had switched out her sedan for a jeep to accommodate their luggage. The three suitcases, all different sizes, fit easily into the trunk.
The previous sedan was great in every aspect—except the trunk, which could only hold two cases. The third had to be crammed into the backseat.
This time, Eiren had learned from experience.
"Everyone buckle up. It's my first time driving a jeep, and my control over the gas and brakes might be a little... inconsistent."
Before she even finished her sentence, all three girls had snapped on their seatbelts and grabbed onto something stable around them.
Kotomi didn't like the scent of the car's air freshener, so she rolled down the window a bit.
As the jeep pulled away from the hotel, she happened to glance outside—and there, across the street, was Ayani Kika.
She wore a white dress, her long hair fluttering gently, gazing toward the car—as if she had come just to see Kotomi off.
One sat inside the car. The other stood across the road. In that moment, the world seemed to pause around them.
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