All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

After class, Kotomi Izumi, having finished her painting ahead of schedule, headed to the art club. She grabbed a free drink from the refrigerator, finished it in a few gulps, and then glanced around.

Hibiki Naegi and Mashiro Shiina were still seated in front of their easels, fully engrossed in their paintings.

Even the other members, despite not participating in the art competition, weren’t idle—they were practicing with their own sketches.

So boring.

At this moment, Kotomi’s mind was filled with nothing but these three words.

She wanted to sneak out early but didn’t want to disturb Hibiki Naegi, who was completely focused on her work. As someone who also painted, Kotomi knew just how frustrating it was to be interrupted while deeply immersed in a piece.

With no other choice, she sat on a chair, swinging her legs back and forth in a perfectly rhythmic motion.

Having just completed Twilight Sky: Sunset, Kotomi felt as though she had finally finished an extremely demanding project for an unbearably picky client.

Her whole body felt light, as if she could float into the sky.

At least for now, she had no intention of picking up a paintbrush to start another piece.

She just wanted to daydream in peace.

And maybe, just maybe, she was a little curious whether her painting would win an award.

The prize money didn’t matter.

What really caught her eye was the recommendation slot for a prestigious university.

If she could secure that direct admission, it would become a solid, unshakable shield for her academic future.

After all, she would eventually have to step into society.

A degree couldn’t define a person, but it was certainly a key to many doors.

Kotomi understood the importance of having that key.

She had a System, but considering how unreliable it was on a daily basis, she had to prepare multiple paths for herself.

Walking on just one leg was always a bad idea.

Walking on two legs was much more stable.

And if she could have multiple paths, then that was even better.

Like a centipede.

”Spacing out?”

At some point, Hibiki Naegi had put down her paintbrush and quietly walked over to the refrigerator. She grabbed a drink, leaned against the windowsill, and looked at Kotomi, who was aimlessly daydreaming without any intention of picking up her brush.

”Ever since I submitted my painting for the competition, my mind feels completely empty,” Kotomi admitted. ”At least for today, I have absolutely no desire to paint anything.”

She had expected Hibiki Naegi, as the club president, to sternly correct her mindset.

But to her surprise, Naegi didn’t reprimand her at all.

Instead, she nodded in understanding and said with deep empathy:

”That feeling is completely normal. Forget the fact that you’ve only been painting for a short time—even for someone like me, who’s been painting since childhood and can’t even remember when I first picked up a brush, I still feel that way every time I finish a piece.”

”After completing a painting, there’s always this brief period where my mind feels empty, and I just want to rest and zone out.”

”After all, a person’s focus is limited, and so are their brain cells.”

”From conceptualization to the final strokes, the amount of time and energy spent on a painting might not feel obvious while you’re working on it. But the moment you finish, that exhaustion catches up, and you just don’t want to pick up a brush for a while.”

”So that feeling is actually normal?”

”Yes and no.”

Naegi took a sip of her drink and continued,

”It’s human nature, and it’s understandable. But if you want to seriously walk down the path of an artist, you have to learn how to overcome it.”

”For example, by gradually shortening that downtime.”

”When I first started, I’d go six days without touching a brush after finishing a piece. Slowly, I pushed myself, and now it’s down to just three days.”

”I’ll work on it,” Kotomi murmured, lazily resting her cheek on one hand.

Her completely unmotivated tone formed a stark contrast with the determination in her words.

Just as Hibiki Naegi had said, after completing a painting, an artist often experiences an unparalleled sense of accomplishment, but at the same time, a strong desire to slack off and avoid touching a paintbrush for the next few days.

Some painters, however, aided by their innate talent, have completely overcome this problem. They never experience a period of exhaustion and can even complete multiple paintings in succession without pause.

The further one progresses on the path of painting, the more one realizes that some challenges in art cannot be solved by effort alone.

There is only one true solution—talent.

For example, at this very moment, sitting before an easel, Mashiro Shiina was gazing intently at her artwork. Every brushstroke landed with absolute precision.

Her usually dazed and adorable orange-red eyes now held a depth that only surfaced when she painted.

”Mashiro is the embodiment of superior talent—true genius,” Naegi sighed, following Kotomi’s gaze toward her.

”Having both talent and hard work, she has reached a level that ordinary painters could never attain in their lifetime.”

Anyone who loved painting would find it difficult not to feel at least a slight sting of jealousy when they saw Mashiro Shiina.

But it was just a sliver of jealousy.

The gap in skill was so vast that even comparing it to heaven and earth would not do it justice.

If one did not put in an extreme amount of effort, they wouldn’t even qualify to see her silhouette from afar.

That kind of unreachable distance made jealousy fade and admiration take its place.

Realizing that this wasn’t something a club president should say, Naegi quickly changed the subject and spoke to Kotomi:

”I still have to finish my painting later, so I’ll be working until club activities end. If you’re feeling bored here, you can go wander around the school. Just remember not to disturb the other club members, alright?”

At that, Kotomi immediately jumped up from her seat, smoothing out the slight wrinkles on her skirt from sitting down.

”Yay! I was waiting for you to say that! Thanks, President, I’m going out to play now~!”

”Don’t run too fast! The Light Music Club is next door having tea— ahem, I mean, practicing their songs!”

Naegi had barely finished her sentence before Kotomi had already disappeared, vanishing at a speed that left people speechless.

”That was way too fast! If Kotomi participated in next month’s sports festival, she’d probably win first place in the sprint event.”

Naegi remarked in mild surprise, making a mental note to suggest this idea to Hiratsuka Shizuka the next time she saw her.

She truly believed Kotomi was perfect for the track-and-field sprinting events.

Of course, if Kotomi ever found out that Naegi planned to recommend her for the sports festival, she would definitely run even faster than before.

Even if there was no exit, she’d probably smash through the school walls just to escape.

Unfortunately, she had no idea.

She carried her school bag and strolled leisurely through the afternoon-lit school building.

Whenever dusk draped over the vast sky, it was as if announcing the gradual fall of the curtain, signaling the end of the day.

Kotomi planned to head to the convenience store and stay there until the dismissal bell rang.

But while fantasy was beautiful, reality was cruel—the convenience store had closed early.

”Hmm~ Maybe I’ll just go lie down on the rooftop bench, staring at the sunset while spacing out.”

”Then, because I accidentally sleep too long, I end up napping on the rooftop bench until midnight. When I wake up, the entire high school is deserted, and the environment has transformed into a dilapidated, bloodstained, and eerie scene.”

”As an utterly ordinary high school girl, I’m forcibly dragged into a horrifying event filled with curses, hatred, bloodshed, tragedy, and eerie mysteries.”

”In the old, abandoned school building teeming with hidden dangers, I gradually uncover the truth buried by time for decades!”

After finishing her monologue, Kotomi couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Her courage wasn’t exactly impressive—she could count all the horror games she had played with just one hand.

Most of her knowledge about horror games came from watching Let’s Play videos uploaded by streamers on video-sharing platforms. She had no problem watching those, even having the leisure to admire the protagonist’s or female monsters’ beautiful legs.

But playing herself? Not a chance in hell.

Though she didn’t dare play them, she had watched enough to effortlessly improvise the opening premise of a horror game.

As Kotomi aimlessly wandered around the school, she suddenly heard Kisara Tendo call out from behind:

”Kotomi, aren’t you supposed to be at the Art Club’s activities?”

Right after Kisara spoke, another voice—one very familiar, often heard on television—followed:

”Oh my? So you’re Kotomi Izumi? What a coincidence! I finally get the chance to talk to you.”

Hearing Kisara’s voice didn’t surprise her.

But the second voice made Kotomi freeze slightly in shock.

Eyes lighting up with delight, she quickly turned around.

Standing roughly 165 cm tall without her indoor shoes, the girl had a poised and elegant face with a slightly curious expression.

Her presence exuded both maturity and a touch of playful charm.

Her slender legs were wrapped in black sheer pantyhose, subtly revealing her fair skin beneath.

She wore the same Sobu High School uniform, but on her, it fit like a custom-tailored dress, accentuating her slender yet curvaceous figure.

Though her bust wasn’t large, it was still noticeable enough—enough to make some girls envious of her development.

Of course, compared to Kotomi, she did seem a bit lacking in that department.

On her fair wrist, she wore a bracelet with tiny rabbit ear charms, adding a playful, youthful touch to her mature elegance.

Kotomi blinked.

She confirmed it wasn’t an illusion.

Then, her voice carried a hint of disbelief as she exclaimed:

”Sakurajima-senpai?”

The girl standing beside Kisara Tendo, appearing right behind Kotomi—

Was none other than Mai Sakurajima.

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