All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

Eiren Kanagawa, the youngest professor in the Kyoto University Faculty of Fine Arts.

At just 30 years old, she had already become a full professor while most people her age were still struggling to make associate professor.

Just how much influence did she hold at Kyoto University?

The last award ceremony for the National Youth Art Exhibition hosted by the University of Tokyo? She was the one who personally handed out the awards to the winning students.

She was known for her unique teaching philosophy in the arts, having discovered artistic potential in over a dozen seemingly average students and tailoring her instruction to each. Those students came to be known in the art world as ”The Refined Generation.”

Even Kotomi, who hadn’t followed much art news before, had heard of Eiren Kanagawa. As for Hibiki Naegi and Mashiro Shiina, who had both studied art from a young age, they naturally knew her name.

Especially Hibiki. The reason she worked so hard to get into Kyoto University’s art department was because she dreamed of becoming Eiren Kanagawa’s student.

To her, with guidance from this legendary professor, even someone with average talent like herself might be able to discover her own artistic spark.

It wasn’t just a dream anymore—it had become her hope.

Never trust someone who says they don’t care.

Even someone like Hibiki, who often made self-deprecating jokes about her lack of talent, would privately curse her mediocrity, wishing she had more brilliance and praying she could still go far down the road of art.

So when she realized that the middle-aged woman before her was none other than Eiren Kanagawa, a flicker of hope lit up in Hibiki’s eyes.

Maybe she could make a good impression!

But Kanagawa’s gaze never left Kotomi and Mashiro. Hibiki froze for a second, then smiled bitterly to herself. Of course, it made sense that Professor Kanagawa would focus on them.

Mashiro was already a world-class artistic prodigy. And judging from how Kanagawa had described Kotomi earlier, her painting must have deeply impressed the judges.

In front of these two geniuses, she felt like a firefly before the moon—so dim she may as well not exist.

”Come with me. It’s tourist season right now, and the parking lot outside Kyoto Station is completely packed. Finding a spot is like finding a needle in a haystack. Getting the car parked is like threading a needle through a pinhole.”

She sighed.

”Well, it can’t be helped. Luckily, I spotted a decent spot on the way over. It’s a bit of a walk, but after sitting on the train for two hours, a stroll will do you good~ I’ll take you three to the hotel Kyoto University has reserved for this event.”

Eiren Kanagawa flicked her dark red hair back with a certain flair and led the three of them away from Kyoto Station.

Just like she said, the station’s parking lot was jam-packed. From a distance, there wasn’t a single empty space in sight. Even if you tried to wait for someone to leave, another car would zoom in out of nowhere the moment a spot opened up.

Kanagawa didn’t even bother trying. When she saw how full it was earlier, she immediately turned away and parked wherever she saw fit.

As they followed her to her car, Kotomi finally realized what Kanagawa meant by a ”decent spot.”

She had parked right on the roadside.

Kotomi tugged at the corner of her mouth and was just about to ask if parking there was really okay...

Then they heard Eiren Kanagawa click her tongue in annoyance. ”Ah, damn it. Were the traffic police lurking nearby? I swear I only parked here for less than ten minutes. How did I already get a ticket?”

Seeing her peel a parking ticket off the windshield, Kotomi quickly shut her mouth. She had just been about to ask whether parking on the roadside was okay, and the next moment, Kanagawa had already found the ticket.

Such a coincidence may have been expected, but it was still better left unspoken. After all, Kanagawa wasn’t just some regular staff sent to pick them up—she was a professor in the Kyoto University Faculty of Fine Arts.

A legendary figure, at that.

A person like her practically had the word ”big shot” written on her face. Kotomi didn’t want to get on her bad side. If they could get along, great; if not, she wouldn’t go out of her way to flatter her either.

Kotomi valued face. If you gave her face, she’d return it. If not? She’d turn against you—maybe not openly, but she’d play dirty if needed.

Once they got into the car, Kanagawa started chatting with them as she drove.

”Speaking of which, I’m kind of a university classmate of Mashiro’s cousin, Chihiro Sengoku. Back when Chihiro was a study-abroad student at the Florence Academy of Fine Arts, I happened to be traveling in Italy. That’s when we met.”

”Sengoku-sensei graduated from Florence Academy of Fine Arts?” Hibiki said in shock.

”She doesn’t look it at all...”

Since Chihiro wasn’t around, Kotomi boldly said what they were both thinking.

”Mashiro, did you know that Sengoku-sensei graduated from Florence Academy?” Hibiki asked curiously.

Mashiro nodded matter-of-factly. ”I knew. Oh, right—now that I think about it, I’m also a famous alumna of Florence Academy.”

”...”

That one sentence left Kotomi and Hibiki momentarily speechless.

Kotomi suddenly wanted to hug Mashiro’s thigh and never let go.

One day, when she had a chance to visit Florence Academy, she had to check the walls in the hallway to see if Mashiro’s photo was displayed there.

Kanagawa burst into laughter. ”That Chihiro… She’s flamboyant when she shouldn’t be, and humble when she shouldn’t. She never told her students she graduated from the Florence Academy?”

”She’s got such a quirky personality. It’s probably why the two of us became friends despite the age gap. But really, if she’d just mellowed out a bit, maybe she wouldn’t still be single.”

”I even offered to bring her into Kyoto University’s fine arts faculty, but she insisted on teaching at Soumu High. Said she wanted to spite the guidance counselor who kept scolding her back in her student days.”

”My cousin barely teaches two art classes a week. She seems to enjoy getting paid for such an easy job,” Mashiro said after thinking it over.

Kanagawa wasn’t surprised. She chuckled, ”That suits her perfectly.”

With three top candidates in the car—technically Chihiro’s students—Kanagawa decided to steer the conversation in a new direction as they waited at a red light. With a loud snap of her fingers, she declared:

”Now then, let’s do a little Q&A survey! Don’t worry—it’s nothing serious. If you feel like answering, just raise your hand like you did in grade school.”

The sudden shift to a more casual tone lightened the atmosphere. Although Kanagawa had seemed approachable from the beginning, her status as a professor at Kyoto University still made everyone a little stiff.

”Kotomi, Mashiro, Hibiki, let me ask you: For someone planning to walk the path of art long-term, the road ahead is unimaginably long. And the longer you walk, the more tired you get. Tiredness makes you hungry. Don’t ask why not thirsty.”

”So, to avoid starving on this journey, you have to pack enough before setting out. Let’s say there are two kinds of bread. One is called ’Talent.’ The other is called ’Diligence.’”

”Which one do you think you should pack more of if you don’t want to starve on the long road of art?”

One type of bread is called ”Talent,” the other is called ”Diligence.”

After Eiren Kanagawa posed this question, it was as if she had really placed the two loaves of bread in front of them, prompting a moment of quiet contemplation.

”Take more of the ’Talent’ bread, and the road ahead will feel lighter. Some are born already standing at the finish line that others can never reach, even after a lifetime of effort.”

”Take more of the ’Diligence’ bread, and while it may keep you from starving on the way, the path becomes grueling. Every step harder than the last. Three years of effort and no progress can lead to a despair so deep it might as well be death... In other words, getting ’stuffed to death’ by the Diligence bread.”

Kanagawa’s voice, for some reason, grew somber. As she spoke, her eyes dimmed, as though she carried a sorrow and regret too heavy to be dispelled in this lifetime.

Kotomi, sitting in the front passenger seat, noticed this change immediately.

Hibiki, seated in the back, had originally intended to ask Kanagawa some questions about art. But after hearing her words, something lodged in her throat. It was as if invisible hands were tearing at her skin, piercing her flesh, and twisting her heart until it cracked and crumbled.

She clenched her teeth slightly, her expression dark. She couldn’t find her voice.

No—she had momentarily forgotten how to speak.

She desperately wanted to say something like, ”If you pack enough ’Diligence’ bread, you can still succeed in the world of art, no matter how slow your pace.”

But then she thought about her own situation...

No real progress. Stagnant for five years.

Even if her hands bled from holding the brush, her improvement had been so minimal, it was almost laughable.

”More skilled techniques”? What a joke. No matter how skilled she got, her strokes could never match the burst of brilliance from a true genius.

She could draw the perfect egg, even blindfolded or with her left hand. But it would still just be an egg.

A genius, in a single flash of inspiration, could paint the Louvre.

Her dreams, her hopes for a future in art, everything she had worked for until now...

The atmosphere inside the car grew heavy, weighed down by Hibiki’s silence.

Kanagawa paid no mind. When the light turned green, she stepped on the gas, continuing toward the hotel, pushing the sorrow back into the depths of her heart.

Seeing that none of them responded, she changed her tone. With a voice so sweet it made one doubt whether she was really a professor or perhaps a young voice actress promoting a new anime, she asked cheerfully:

”Well then~ let’s look at it from another angle. Do any of you want to become designers?”

All three shook their heads.

”Alright then, how about movie directors, game planners, business strategists, CG artists... heh, as a professor in the arts, no one can accuse me of leading students astray by asking if they want to be manga artists. So one more—do any of you want to become manga artists?”

Kotomi and Mashiro both raised their hands.

To be precise, Kotomi was already a popular manga artist under Shueisha, while Mashiro was actively working toward that goal.

Kotomi couldn’t help but wonder—how would Mashiro’s parents react if they found out their daughter wanted to be a manga artist? Probably not thrilled.

Putting herself in their shoes, Kotomi guessed they’d be pretty upset.

Eiren Kanagawa asked questions one by one, like a professor giving her first lecture to university freshmen, talking to them about what kind of jobs they wanted after graduation, and more specifically, which companies they wanted to join.

Helping students develop a clear plan for life after they leave the ivory tower is part of a professor’s responsibility.

Even so, university students are often uncertain about their future. Usually, a professor will mention a certain profession, and some students will suddenly realize, ”Oh, that job exists?” They Google the company, see the salary and benefits, and immediately start envisioning a wonderful future.

They begin to feel like they’re talented enough to land a big job right after graduation and earn a million yen a month easily.

Let alone college students—Mashiro and the others were still high schoolers who hadn’t even taken entrance exams yet. So when Eiren Kanagawa said these things, it was only natural that their minds would wander into idealistic visions of the future.

Even Hibiki Naegi, who had been feeling a bit down earlier, found herself smiling as her thoughts drifted.

Only Kotomi remained calm.

Having lived a previous life as Ailun, she was all too familiar with this kind of motivational speech aimed at new students. It was just a shot of enthusiasm to get students to picture a lovely future and start working hard for it—even if it wasn’t very realistic.

Professors hoped this would at least keep them from skipping every class and failing exams.

Kotomi had heard it all before, which was why she looked particularly composed. Rather than a high school student, she seemed more like a seasoned adult with experience navigating society.

Much of this came from her having lived two lives. But Eiren Kanagawa didn’t know that. All she saw was Kotomi’s unshakable calm, and it surprised her. She raised an eyebrow.

She’d taught countless students and weathered all kinds of situations. She had a sharp eye for people.

Many high school and university students liked to pretend to be mature—cool, collected, socially skilled, emotionally intelligent.

Maybe among their peers they could pull it off. Maybe they could even flirt a little with cute boys or girls.

But in front of someone like Kanagawa, who had experienced far more than most, they were instantly seen through.

Forced imitation and natural behavior born from habit were worlds apart.

Young people couldn’t always tell the difference, but someone like her could spot it in a heartbeat.

After observing Kotomi for several minutes, she had initially assumed it was an act—just a kid trying to play grown-up. But as the conversation continued, she realized Kotomi was genuinely quick-witted, and her tone, expressions, and demeanor were all perfectly measured.

When speaking, she knew just what to say.

When listening, she maintained the ideal attentive expression.

It made Kanagawa internally admire the Izumi family for raising such a well-mannered girl, and Kotomi herself for having such naturally high emotional intelligence.

EQ and IQ often are gifts from birth.

And Kotomi was beautiful to boot—her every smile or glance made people want to pick up a brush and capture her forever in a painting.

Talking to her was a joy. No exaggeration, it might be the best part of one’s day.

This hidden maturity in Kotomi deeply impressed Eiren Kanagawa. It was a breath of fresh air.

Because, to be honest, most students in Kyoto University’s art department? Their emotional intelligence was... painfully low.

So low that even their exceptional talent in art couldn’t ease Kanagawa’s worries about their ability to survive in society if art ever failed them. Just imagining it gave her a headache.

After hearing the three girls talk about what they hoped to do in the future, Kanagawa raised one hand to pause the conversation.

As the chatter died down, she smiled and asked, ”Do you know how many outstanding art students I’ve taught so far?”

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