[Literary Club Room,— Late Afternoon, 4:47 PM]
"Um, Aizono, aren't you embarrassed at all?"
Kuroha Akira couldn't help but ask.
The gap was simply too devastating.
A soft-spoken, blushing moe-type suddenly discussing H-topics with the fluency of a late-night /a/ thread veteran... The cognitive dissonance hit harder than a mid-series reveal that your childhood friend was secretly a girl all along.
Gap moe is a weapon of mass destruction, Akira thought. I should have known.
"Huh?"
Aizono Moe blinked, tilting her head like a small confused bird. A strand of honey-brown hair slipped from behind her ear.
"It's just—I usually see you as quite timid, Aizono, so I assumed you might not be able to discuss these, uh... ecchi topics."
Comprehension dawned. Moe's cheeks flushed a delicate pink as she tapped her index fingers together—ding ding ding, classic embarrassed anime girl gesture, fully deployed.
"Ah... that... If it were something happening in real life, I would definitely be super shy... But this is just fiction in a novel, right? It won't actually happen in reality?"
"Yeah, haha..."
Akira could only manage a dry, hollow laugh.
Because the inspiration for that panty-flashing little sister scene? Lifted directly from his first fateful encounter with the Class Monitor herself. And the plot's trajectory faithfully traced reality—the imouto's panties wound up in the protagonist's possession, and he'd even achieved what Akira himself never dared: wearing them on his head.
So when Hitomi reached that passage, she shot Akira a look. The kind of look that could communicate entire volumes without a single word. I know. You know I know. We both know.
Asato Hitomi said nothing aloud. After all, this remained an unspeakable secret between them.
Still, the realization that this story—ripped from actual events—would soon spread before readers nationwide made even the unflappable Class Monitor feel an unfamiliar flutter of shame. As if she'd agreed to broadcast their private play to a live audience.
"See, like this plot point here—removing the panties you're actively wearing and handing them to someone else..." Aizono continued innocently. "In real life, only perverts would do such shameless things..."
Critical hit! Asato Hitomi took 9999 damage.
Critical hit! Shirai Shiori took 9999 damage.
Akira himself felt the splash damage, cheeks warming. He'd somehow become a serial collector of high school girls' intimates. Two pairs. Two different girls. How did my life become this route?
The Class Monitor, her acting stats maxed out, maintained a neutral expression—though her gaze drifted strategically toward the window, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. But Shirai Shiori couldn't hold the line. She buried her face in her folded arms with a muffled groan, silver-white hair spilling across the desk like a surrender flag.
My best friend just called me a pervert!
If this ever surfaced, she could never face Moe again... So this secret absolutely must not leak!
Shiori lifted her head just enough to glare murderously at Akira. Her violet eyes delivered the message with knife-point precision: You will NOT tell Moe.
Akira received the transmission. He blinked twice—slowly, deliberately. Roger that. Your secret is secure. I've hidden the evidence where no one will ever find it.
Because last time, the Class Monitor's panties had been discovered by Shinomiya—and she'd actually used them—Akira had learned his lesson. This time, both pairs of illicitly-acquired intimates were concealed within the false panel of the lower bunk bed. Utterly unfindable.
The only drawback? Retrieval was inconvenient. Impossible to access on demand.
Not that it mattered anymore. Akira had completely abandoned any notion of using those two pairs as spellcasting catalysts. He'd already forfeited all rights to privacy in his own bedroom.
Because when he was home, Shinomiya clung to him like a particularly affectionate shadow—every moment except baths and bathroom breaks. His private space had effectively shrunk to zero.
Besides, he reasoned, compared to plain fabric, material infused with a beautiful girl's warmth and secret scent is naturally superior. So he'd fully committed to the 'Coiling Silk Leg' technique—drawing power from that intimate contact, the soft press of smooth thighs, the warmth seeping through sheer stockings. Those two pairs of friendship underwear would simply remain as trophies. Pure collectibles.
Meanwhile, across the table, Asato Hitomi caught the silent exchange between Akira and Shiori. The quick glances. The meaningful blinks.
Her analytical mind connected the dots in seconds.
So Shiori didn't just strip down—she actually surrendered her intimates...
Based on her deep understanding of Shirai Shiori's character, Hitomi doubted those panties qualified as any kind of love token. That didn't match Shiori's tsundere profile.
More likely, Shiori had acted on impulse—a mischievous revenge prank, carelessly throwing them like a grenade, and Akira simply... caught them.
But to weaponize one's own underwear as a joke? That level of comfort indicated something significant. Shiori had opened her heart to Kuroha Akira. Completely.
Will Shiori... fall for Akira-kun?
Or has she already—
If Shiori pursues this route, what should I do?
Logically, supporting her friend's happiness was the correct choice. But Asato Hitomi found herself strangely resistant to that development. And conveniently, a perfectly reasonable excuse materialized:
Lovers always prioritize each other over friends. If those two started dating, Moe and I would be relegated to side characters. Discord would fracture the club.
And the Literary Club must be preserved at all costs. All destabilizing variables must be eliminated.
Therefore—though it pained her to admit—Asato Hitomi could not support romance between club members. This was purely pragmatic. Obviously.
And really... why must boys and girls inevitably complicate things with romance...
Can't we simply maintain... this?
Forever?
Even the brilliant Asato Hitomi couldn't devise a perfect solution. She filed away this new concern: Protect the Literary Club's equilibrium. Prevent qualitative shifts in relationships.
This is my responsibility as Club President.
Only Aizono Moe remained blissfully oblivious, still earnestly explaining her artistic philosophy.
"And actually, in the illustration field, R-18 works are super common... Ah! B-But I'm not drawing anything lewd! Really! I'm absolutely not!"
Her face burned crimson as she waved her hands frantically—the classic denial that only incriminates further pattern.
The lady doth protest too much... Akira suppressed a smile.
She definitely draws lewd stuff in private. Maybe these suggestive illustrations are actually below her true skill level.
Technically, light novels with erotic elements occupied the same ecosystem as proper adult fiction—but Akira's Little Sister's Journey hadn't crossed into 18+ territory. 16+ at most. Spicy, not explicit.
"I think precisely because certain scenes can never occur in reality," Moe continued thoughtfully, "we need art to realize those fantasies... And I can clearly separate fiction from life."
Ah. The type who maintains healthy boundaries between work and personal existence.
Akira considered this. Art students who studied human anatomy became desensitized to nudity by necessity—if they felt shame while drawing, they'd never produce anything.
This is all ART! Appreciation of beauty! Nothing to hide!
Actually, this reminded him of his previous life at the game company. The girls on the art team had been completely fearless with dirty jokes—their XPs more terrifying than the last.
He still remembered one junior colleague he'd gotten close to, a sweet-faced illustrator who'd casually discuss doujin plots over lunch like reviewing the weather. Completely open. Refreshingly direct.
Of course, proximity bred familiarity—the writing team and art team collaborated constantly. Character designs flowed from written concepts; visualizing those concepts was the artists' domain. Their desks sat close. Relationships deepened.
And occasionally? Spectacular creative arguments erupted...
Maybe those office dynamics could fuel material for Little Sister's Journey too.
Aizono Moe smiled, a hint of shy warmth in her eyes.
"So as long as it's about drawing, I won't get that shy..."
"That's wonderful." Akira meant it. "I'm growing more and more fond of working with you, Aizono."
"Ehehe..."
She beamed, tucking that stray hair back behind her ear.