“Oh, so there’s that kind of theory too!”
After covering her mouth and giggling, Chisato went off to serve the customers.
Hayashi Makoto silently glanced over Kasumigaoka Utaha.
His goal had been to criticize the poorly performing Love Metronome right in front of her and stir up Fatty Kasumi’s unwillingness to accept defeat.
The first step to conquering a woman was leaving a deep impression.
If it could not be a good impression, then a bad impression would also do.
The worst thing was leaving no impression at all.
In Makoto’s observation, this black-stockings senpai, who was praised alongside Yukino as one of the great doujin workhorses, did indeed have her unique points.
She possessed a stunning kind of beauty!
With her tall stature and a curvaceous, fleshy body that was perfectly proportioned, combined with the long black hair everyone loved to see, Makoto had to admit that he had always been a total body-simper for Kasumi Utako-sensei.
The thought of pressing down on her plump, supple body, or having those black-stockinged legs wrapped tightly around his waist…
he wondered just how satisfying that would feel!
As for Kasumigaoka Utaha’s inner pride, her black-bellied nature, her sharp tongue, and her so-called excellent and delicate writing style…
He honestly had no interest.
After sharply criticizing her book, Makoto noticed that she had already turned her head.
Those wine-red eyes narrowed as she stared hard at him.
Here it comes!
He was waiting for Kasumigaoka Utaha to come over and argue with him.
Then he would naturally follow the flow and talk with this literary-type beautiful girl about Schopenhauer, Freud, Dazai Osamu, Zhuangzi’s wife’s death, Izumi Kyoka’s pledge bracelet, and Natsume Soseki’s cat study.
The Makoto from The Witch movie world had been a modified human trained since childhood.
The things he had learned were countless.
Among them, [Disguise] required knowledge from all kinds of fields and professions.
Naturally, he also knew a little about literary classics from various countries.
In the end, if he could arrange to meet her again tomorrow morning, that would be best.
If not, then they could continue the conversation over dinner.
Makoto had already foreseen how things would develop.
However…
Kasumigaoka Utaha stared at him fiercely for a long time.
Then, all of a sudden, her expression turned gray and defeated.
She closed her laptop without saying a word, stood up, and went to the counter to pay.
Her walking posture seemed slightly hunched.
Her back looked like that of a fallen loser.
Makoto: “…”
No, wait.
This development was wrong!
Wasn’t her character setting supposed to be very proud?
I already criticized the masterpiece she poured her heart and soul into until it was worthless.
Why didn’t she storm over and argue with me?
Even one sharp-tongued insult would have been fine!
Why did she run away like a stray dog that had lost its home?
Are you really Kasumigaoka Utaha?
…
“Welcome back!”
When Makoto returned home in the evening, Karuizawa Kei greeted him at the entryway.
She sounded like she was complaining, but in reality, she was acting spoiled.
“Makoto-kun, you have to remember properly. When you come home, you must say, ‘I’m home.’ Then I’ll hug you and say, ‘Welcome home.’ Hehe, doesn’t it feel like we’re married?”
“That sounds nice…”
Makoto looked at her.
“That outfit looks pretty good.”
“Hehe, right? I remembered you once said that gyaru style suited me, so I wanted to try it.”
Makoto noticed that Karuizawa Kei was not dressed in a homey style right now.
Instead, she was wearing a pure-style gyaru look.
Real-life gyaru were not his thing.
But anime gyaru were very good.
At least, gyaru girls in mainstream anime were usually quite nice.
When normal people mentioned gyaru, what they usually imagined was probably blond hair, tanned skin, big earrings, nail art, and loose socks.
Karuizawa Kei only had three of those.
A pink jacket was tied around her waist.
Her hair was naturally honey-blond, and her nail art was the detachable small-animal style.
A pair of little feet wearing loose socks were carefully stepping on Makoto’s feet.
Aside from that…
His gaze focused on the girl’s slender neck.
There was a black choker there, representing the girl’s fragile inner world and symbolizing his ownership over her.
Makoto swallowed.
“Is dinner ready?”
“Mm-hm, almost. Tonight, I made mapo tofu.”
“Mapo tofu?”
“Makoto-kun likes Chinese food, right? So I learned a little online.”
The girl’s spoiled tone suddenly became a little uncertain.
“I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
Just like Americans only thought of General Tso’s chicken and orange chicken when Chinese food was mentioned, most Japanese people’s impression of Chinese food basically consisted of mapo tofu, xiaolongbao, and Yang Guofu.
Makoto really wanted to say that if he wanted Chinese food, he could just teleport to China and buy some.
But seeing the affection filling this girl’s eyes, he could only accept it honestly.
Kei-chan was so cute and considerate.
He almost wanted to just start doing it with her right there in the entryway.
But right now, he was a little hungry, so his mood was somewhat reduced.
“Then I’ll watch TV for a while first.”
“Mm! I’m going back to the kitchen!”
The little golden retriever bounced away happily.
Her high ponytail swayed back and forth like a cheerful dog’s tail.
Sitting on the sofa, Makoto stared at the television screen.
In reality, his thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.
Kasumigaoka Utaha’s matter was a small thing.
He did not care much about it.
He was recalling what he had seen and heard today in that Japanese-style café.
More specifically, the details of his interactions with Nishikigi Chisato and the manager, Mika.
After leaving the café, he had monitored the surrounding area for a while.
There had been nothing unusual.
Mika, that old Black gay café manager and former Lycoris instructor, had not paid too much attention to Makoto.
“Or is it that Mika and Nishikigi Chisato, those two retired slackers, simply don’t have access to information about me?”
“Hm…”
His figure flickered.
He went to the sealed study, took out a small object, then returned to the sofa and changed into a more comfortable sitting position.
His dark pupils reflected the thing in his hand.
It was small, yet very heavy.
The carving of the five interlocked dragons was terrifyingly exquisite.
One corner of the seal face had been repaired with gold, the historical scar left behind when Wang Mang usurped the throne.
Makoto played with the Heirloom Seal of the Realm.
It was as if he were playing with a woman’s hand.
His fingers gently brushed over the eight characters written in bird-worm seal script.
“Having Received the Mandate from Heaven, May He Live Long and Prosper.”
Whether it was real or fake was still unclear.
Even if it was real, it had long since lost the legitimacy of orthodox succession.
But in truth, that was not important.
Once he became emperor, whether this jade seal was real or fake, it could become real!
“Oh, a newcomer?”
With a thought, Makoto separated from the time-frozen main anime-crossover world and entered the Shared Transmigration Space.
At a glance, he saw the flashy newcomer.
The newcomer wore a kariginu robe.
His sleeves carried the faintly bitter scent of medicinal herbs, and two smooth pieces of ancient jade hung from the silk cord at his waist.
He also carried a simple shaku tablet with him, symbolizing his status.
There was no heavy embroidery on his clothing.
Only sparse, subtle dark patterns.
“An onmyoji?”
“I had many identities, but my first profession was indeed onmyoji. This outfit is also my favorite.”
The newcomer’s slightly curled black hair was left untied.
On the face identical to Hayashi Makoto’s, there was a faint smile.
The instant he entered the Shared Transmigration Space, he understood his past and present lives.
“Memories of my previous life… So I was actually a transmigrator?”
A pair of rose-red eyes looked at Makoto.
That gaze was extremely complicated.
It was as if, in a single instant, he had experienced several hundred years of long time.
In the end, all of it turned into complete calm.
Makoto circled around him, touching his chin as he recalled every work he had ever seen.
But no matter how hard he thought, he could not recognize who this was.
“Brother, what should I call you?”
“You may call me Kibutsuji Makoto.”
“Oh, Kibutsuji…”
Makoto paused.
“Hm?”
Kibutsuji?
…
…
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