All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

Returning to her bedroom, Kotomi decided to use the time before bed to continue working on the composition of Fly Me to the Star, a project she hadn’t been able to complete that afternoon.

After all, she had promised Merii Hizuki, and the generous upfront payment for her work left no room for further delays.

Even though the delays weren’t intentional...

Judging by Kotomi’s ability to complete 50% of the song in just half a day—with the help of the system, of course—it became evident that lucrative compensation is the ultimate motivator for efficiency.

Had Merii Hizuki offered less money, Kotomi might not have agreed in the first place. Even if she had, there’s no way she would have willingly spent 10,000 Fame Points to produce the song with such speed and dedication.

”I can’t tell you my feelings

I remember so many different lives

And act them out because I want your attention

Oh, fly me to the star”

After reviewing the lyrics she had written, Kotomi put on her headphones and, with the system’s assistance, resumed the final stages of composing Fly Me to the Star.

The time was now 7:30 p.m., and she felt confident that she could finish the song before bedtime.

When it came to performing the song, as the composer, Kotomi was undoubtedly the most familiar with the emotions and essence it sought to convey. She could theoretically deliver the most authentic interpretation.

However, there was a slight issue: some composers simply couldn’t sing.

Being a skilled composer didn’t necessarily equate to being a good singer—each craft has its own specialization.

Even if a composer could sing, expecting them to handle both composition and performance was asking too much. Sure, a great composer might sustain an entire entertainment company’s roster of artists, but it was unreasonable to expect them to take over the performance aspect as well.

If composers were expected to do it all, why even bother with singers? Just credit the composer as the performer when releasing the song.

Thanks to her system-enhanced voice acting level, Kotomi wasn’t worried about her singing abilities. She could absolutely be the first person to perform Fly Me to the Star.

But as Kotomi glanced at the fee Merii Hizuki had offered for the song, her thoughts wavered.

11.86 million yen.

Was that a lot of money?

For a high school girl, it was an astronomical sum. What other student could say they’d earned over 10 million yen while still attending school?

No one would believe it. Kotomi herself wasn’t ready to tell her family, fearing that her parents might jump to the wrong conclusions about how she had earned the money.

Moreover, apart from Merii Hizuki and Miyuki Aomori, no one in the industry had heard Kotomi’s performance of All the Way North.

Outside of these two individuals, neither the industry nor Heavenly Spider Talent Agency knew anything about Kotomi’s existence.

Her reputation and standing in the music world were equivalent to that of a complete newcomer.

For a debut project, earning 500,000 yen after royalties and taxes would already signify a successful first step for a novice.

Kotomi’s debut song commission fee, if revealed, would undoubtedly turn a flock of fledgling composers, seasoned veterans, and even some silver-tier composers in the music industry into ”lemons” personified—jealousy seeping through the entire music circle.

The sourness would be palpable, blanketing the industry in layer upon layer of envy.

If the higher-ups at Heavenly Spider Talent Agency found out, they would likely point at Merii Hizuki and berate her: ”You spent 10 million yen commissioning a song from a rookie composer? Are you out of your mind?!”

To be blunt, in order to pay Kotomi the agreed 11.86 million yen smoothly, Merii Hizuki ended up covering more than half the amount from her own pocket.

Relying solely on the company to fork out over 10 million yen for a composer of Kotomi’s current renown and influence? Merii didn’t even need to submit the application to know what would happen—it would be outright rejected, probably with a side order of ridicule.

She would likely become the laughingstock of the talent management industry overnight.

It might even negatively impact Heavenly Spider Talent Agency’s stock price, causing it to plummet.

The company’s higher-ups would surely want her head on a silver platter.

To ensure a smooth payment process and for the sake of her own safety, Merii opted to personally contribute a significant portion of the 11.86 million yen fee.

She also negotiated with Kotomi to pay 5 million yen upfront as an advance, with the remainder to be settled upon receiving the completed composition files.

Opening her banking app, Kotomi glanced at her account balance: 6.78 million yen.

Returning to the matter at hand, Merii’s straightforward and decisive payment attitude deeply moved Kotomi.

However, if Merii wanted more than just the composition—for Kotomi to also perform the song—

Sorry, that’s not enough.

You’ll need to pay extra.

After all, unlocking the voice acting skill had cost Kotomi a hefty 500,000 Fame Points!

Upon completing the final segment of the song, Kotomi saved the file and donned her headphones to listen to it.

It had that ”it” factor.

Even just listening to it, she could feel the tightly coiled and twisted emotions woven into the melody.

The genius of Fly Me to the Star lies in its ability to evoke corresponding emotions from any angle of interpretation.

Even the number of performers singing the song changes the listener’s experience.

When performed as a duet, it feels like a sweet love song, dripping with sugary affection.

When sung solo, however, it transforms into a heartbreaking tale of unrequited love—so poignant that the melody alone could bring tears to your eyes. Pair it with the lyrics, and it’s a guaranteed tearjerker.

Thanks to the system’s bestowed compositional skills, which came with a divine, almost supernatural quality, Kotomi refined the piece with only minor adjustments.

After listening to it in its entirety, even Kotomi herself couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer brilliance of the system’s composition ability.

What excited Kotomi even more was the thought that this was just one aspect of the broader Music Skill Set.

Imagining the possibilities if she could one day unlock the entire Music Level filled her with awe.

Turning her gaze to the system interface, her eyes landed on the seventh skill, still locked.

Her desire to earn enough Fame Points to unlock it burned brighter than ever—she yearned to see if it truly was the Music Level.

At that moment, Kotomi was reminded of the thrill she felt in her previous life when she spent 167 Saint Quartz in hopes of summoning Saber Alter—an exhilarating mix of nervous anticipation and unbridled excitement.

After listening to the song multiple times to confirm there were no issues, Kotomi Izumi noticed how quickly time had flown—it was already 10 PM.

With her habit of sleeping early and waking up late, Kotomi decided not to delay any further. She still planned to play a few rounds of games while lying in bed.

Using synthesized electronic vocals, she recorded a simple version of the Fly Me to the Star audio file, preparing to send it to Merii Hizuki shortly.

Half an hour later, Kotomi had saved the audio file, packaged it into a compressed folder, and opened Merii Hizuki’s email. She sent the file over and, after confirming the successful transmission, shut down her computer. She then leapt onto her bed and opened her daily go-to game, Azur Lane, intending to complete her activity tasks for the day before going to sleep.

Meanwhile, over at Heavenly Spider Talent Agency, the rare phenomenon of employees leaving the office on time unfolded. Relieved at the lack of overtime, they exited the building, leaving the floors gradually darkening as lights were turned off. Only Merii Hizuki’s office remained brightly lit.

Alone in her office, Merii sat on a brown leather chair, handling a backlog of contracts. Although these contracts were not urgent, she decided it was better to deal with them sooner rather than risk forgetting.

After signing the last contract, she meticulously sorted and filed them, planning to have them picked up the next day. Technically, her work for the day was finished, and with no social engagements on her calendar, Merii could head home.

But she didn’t plan to.

Tonight, Merii Hizuki was staying in the office voluntarily.

Yes, voluntarily.

Even if she went home, she would be restless, unable to eat or sleep peacefully. Staying in her office seemed like the better option.

She poured herself a cup of hot coffee and kept her eyes fixed on the bottom-right corner of her computer screen, anxiously awaiting the next moment when a notification for a new email from Kotomi might pop up.

At this moment, Merii was under immense pressure. If the higher-ups found out that she had spent over 10 million yen commissioning a ”rookie composer” like Kotomi, they would undoubtedly point fingers at her and question her sanity.

And she might even agree—she had indeed acted a bit irrationally.

But under the crushing weight of expectations, she desperately needed a powerful song to secure victory for this year’s Heavenly Spider Talent Agency newcomer in the seasonal competition.

Her initial hope for an outright win had gradually diminished to merely achieving a top-three placement.

Third place was her bottom line. Failure to achieve even that could result in her demotion or reassignment—neither outcome acceptable to her as the agency’s top manager.

Merii had no intention of surrendering her position or relinquishing her power.

Faced with the looming newcomer season, Merii had taken a leap of faith, a gamble that others might dismiss as desperation. Spending over 10 million yen—mostly from her own pocket—on Kotomi to compose a song seemed like a reckless act to outsiders.

Fortunately, only she and Miyuki Aomori knew about this. If word got out, Merii Hizuki would become the laughingstock of the talent management industry overnight.

Without exaggeration, Merii had placed all her hopes for success on Kotomi.

...

As she sat, weighed down by her thoughts and staring blankly at her computer screen, the bottom-right corner suddenly displayed a pop-up notification from her email inbox.

It was an email from Kotomi!

Merii Hizuki, who had weathered countless storms in her career, felt her heartbeat quicken uncontrollably as she stared at the screen. Inwardly, she asked herself again and again:

Has hope finally arrived?

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