After leaving the school gate, Sorata did not return to Sakurasou.
Instead, he took a bus to the downtown commercial street to buy manga drawing tools and materials.
Specialized pencils.
Manuscript paper.
Straight rulers.
French curves.
Ink.
However, after purchasing several hundred sheets of manuscript paper and a set of pencils, Sorata discovered a rather speechless fact.
He was out of money.
Standing by the roadside with large and small bags in hand, he stared at his wallet.
Only a few coins remained.
“Actually worrying about money… this is a bit embarrassing.”
A Great Devil God who once ran rampant across countless worlds, bringing disaster and destruction in his wake, was now troubled by finances.
He lifted his head at a forty-five-degree angle toward the sky.
A faint sense of helpless sorrow rose in his heart.
Apparently, he was not the only one troubled by money.
Just then, four beautiful high school girls walked past him.
“Yui, do you really have to buy that guitar? It’s 250,000 yen.”
The black-haired girl on the left, Akiyama Mio, was calculating seriously.
“There’s still so much left… I thought borrowing 50,000 yen from my mom would be enough for a good guitar.”
Hirasawa Yui, with short brown hair, looked completely dejected.
With her hands in her pockets, the short-haired girl who acted like a boy, Tainaka Ritsu, waved casually.
“It’ll be fine. Let’s all get part-time jobs to help Yui buy it. We’ll treat it as club activity.”
“Mmm… I agree with Ritsu-chan’s idea. Part-time work sounds interesting…”
Kotobuki Tsumugi, with light golden wavy hair and an elegant air, pressed her hands together.
Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“Ah… is that really okay, everyone?”
Yui looked touched.
“I agree.”
“Me too.”
“Then let’s all work hard together, yay~!”
Watching the four girls skip away energetically, Sorata sighed.
“Is this the aura of youth? Carefree and enviable. Unfortunately, I’m already old.”
Passersby gave him strange looks at the sight of a perfectly normal high school boy sighing about age.
With insufficient funds, Sorata had no choice but to return home.
By the time he reached Sakurasou, it was already six in the evening.
As soon as he entered, he saw Mitaka Jin on kitchen duty, busy behind the counter.
“Yo, you’re back, Kanda. Went shopping with a female classmate? Not bad.”
Mitaka glanced at the bags in Sorata’s hands with a teasing smile.
“Eh? You’re really going to draw manga?”
Mitaka’s hand paused mid-stir as he looked up in surprise.
“Of course. I’m not joking. I wrote a volume of a novel last night and submitted it. Today I bought supplies to see whether I have talent for manga.”
“…”
Mitaka let out a small laugh and shook his head.
Writing a whole volume in one night and submitting it without revision sounded like child’s play.
In his view, Sorata was just trying it out.
Sooner or later, he would realize how difficult becoming a light novelist or manga artist truly was and give up.
Sorata smiled faintly and did not pursue the topic.
“Then I’ll leave you to it, Senpai. I’m heading to my room.”
“Meow…”
As soon as he entered, the white cat Hikari yawned and let out a dependent cry.
After putting away his purchases and playing with the cats for a while, Sorata went back out and headed upstairs.
“Shiina, I’m coming in.”
He knocked twice.
“Come in, Sorata.”
The moment he stepped inside, he froze.
The room he had tidied that morning was in chaos again.
Manuscripts were scattered everywhere.
On the bed.
Across the floor.
Some were only half-drawn before being tossed aside.
Shiina wore only a pajama top.
Below, she had on nothing but pink panties, revealing her long, slender legs as she leaned over the desk, completely absorbed in drawing.
When Sorata entered, she suddenly stopped.
She looked up at him quietly.
“Sorata, is my manga very uninteresting?”
He was caught off guard.
“Why do you ask?”
“Ayano said so. She said my manga is very uninteresting.”
A faint confusion showed in her calm eyes.
After waking at noon, she had sent her completed volume to her editor.
The response was blunt.
The story was too uninteresting.
It would not pass for publication.
Sorata had seen it that morning.
That was why she asked.
After a moment of thought, Sorata did not answer directly.
“Shiina, why do you want to draw manga? You’ve won many international awards for oil painting. Oil painting suits you better.”
Her tone remained calm, yet her resolve was steady.
Her bright eyes seemed to glow faintly.
Feeling that simple sincerity toward manga, Sorata nodded.
“Is that so.”
He picked up several scattered manuscripts.
“Then do you know where the problem is?”
Shiina shook her head.
Then nodded.
“Ayano said the story is too simple and flat.”
“That’s one reason.”
Sorata spread the pages in his hands.
“There’s no problem with your artwork. In fact, it’s better than many professional manga artists. It’s almost too good.”
“I looked at it this morning. I think there are three problems.”
“First, the story must be interesting. It needs rises and falls. Readers won’t enjoy something flat like plain water.”
“Second, the characters’ expressions must become vivid. Right now, they’re too stiff. It feels like I’m looking at many expressionless versions of you.”
“Sorata is annoying.”
Though she said that, her face remained expressionless, just as he had described.
He continued calmly.
“Third, simplification. Your lines are too detailed. Too many intricate strokes make it less direct. You need to use the most concise lines to outline the story and point directly to its essence.”
“Eh… directly to the essence.”
At that moment, Sorata paused.
A strange light flickered in his eyes, and a faint smile touched his lips.
“I didn’t expect I’d fall into a blind spot. A cognitive block.”
“What is a cognitive block?”
“You wouldn’t understand even if I explained.”
He moved past it.
“Do you remember what I just said?”
“Yes.”
She looked at him quietly.
“Sorata, help me.”
“Uh…”
At that moment, Mitaka Jin’s voice calling for dinner drifted up from downstairs, interrupting them.
At the dinner table, Sengoku Chihiro learned from Mitaka Jin that Sorata planned to draw manga and had even submitted a novel volume the previous night.
She reacted much like Mitaka had.
Misaki, however, responded differently.
Her eyes sparkled as she grabbed Sorata’s arm.
“Kohai, why didn’t you let Senpai read it before submitting? What kind of story is it? Is it fun?”
Even after Sorata brushed her off casually, she insisted he must tell her the moment publication was confirmed so they could celebrate together, speaking as if she were completely certain he would succeed.