All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

When Kotomi Izumi returned to Hibiki Naegi and Mashiro Shiina, she immediately noticed their curious stares. Already expecting this, Kotomi sighed lightly, then shrugged, putting on an expression of fearless indifference as she looked at them.

”If you’re wondering how I know the police officers and how we met—forget it. Not happening. I won’t say a word. Only Aimi and I know the full story.”

Actually, Iroha Isshiki knew too—but Kotomi kept that part secret for Iroha’s sake, so naturally, she wouldn’t bring her name into this.

”Of course I’m curious! Saying I’m not would be the biggest lie ever. Good thing I didn’t say that earlier, otherwise even I would have cringed at how fake it sounded. I mean seriously, Kotomi, how did you meet a police inspector and a patrol chief? But... if you’re not gonna tell us, then I guess we’ll drop it,” Hibiki said dramatically, sighing as if she’d missed out on the truth behind a great unsolved mystery.

Mashiro looked at Kotomi blankly. That innocent gaze sent a soft flutter through Kotomi’s chest. Mashiro didn’t seem to realize just how tempting she looked right now! If it weren’t for Naegi-senpai standing nearby, Kotomi might have already scooped Mashiro into her arms and kissed her silly.

”Sorry, Mashiro. I can’t tell you either,” Kotomi said, her voice sounding apologetic, but her tone made it clear—this wasn’t up for discussion.

Though Mashiro was still curious, she obediently nodded after hearing Kotomi’s response, doing her best to forget about it.

Her whole cute face seemed to be trying very hard to forget—so much so that it made Kotomi want to laugh. At the same time, she had the urge to pull Mashiro into her arms and spoil her rotten.

Mashiro really was like a little kitten who made your protectiveness skyrocket.

Suddenly, Kotomi’s face took on a serious, almost solemn expression. Her rosy pink eyes seemed to hold crashing waves beneath their surface. She looked like a queen revealing her long-held secret identity to her unsuspecting friends.

”Actually, the reason I know those two officers is because... despite how I look on the outside as a cute high school girl, I’m actually a world-class detective traveling the globe with my suitcase, leaving behind a trail of legendary cases! Kotomi Izumi—Siesta!”

To be honest, even though Kotomi hadn’t unlocked any acting skills officially, she was naturally gifted. Her facial expressions and tone were so convincing that it really felt like she was the protagonist of an anime, finally revealing her true identity to the friends who had always thought she was just an ordinary girl.

It was a trope seen in TV shows, anime, novels, and manga. And to Kotomi, the most satisfying moment was always the look on the friends’ faces when they learned the truth.

When she was younger and watched scenes like that, she’d always imagine herself as the main character and fantasize about what the people around her would think and feel.

Kotomi had always had a talent for writing wish-fulfillment stories. She often got so excited imagining them that she gave herself goosebumps.

Hibiki had known Kotomi for a while—not too long, but not too short either. She could immediately tell Kotomi was joking in the most exaggerated way possible.

Since Kotomi chose to answer with something so over-the-top that it was obviously a lie, it meant she really didn’t want to talk about it and was trying to change the subject.

Having been cared for by Kotomi many times in the past, this time Hibiki decided to return the favor. She played along, following the flow of the conversation and smoothly shifting the topic.

Meeting Officers Hidari and Yukki in the first exhibition gallery had been a sudden and unexpected encounter. Now that they were gone, the three of them continued walking through the exhibit.

The first exhibition gallery was even larger than expected. After half an hour of walking, they still hadn’t finished exploring it.

But so far, they hadn’t seen Mashiro’s painting anywhere.

Hibiki suddenly had a stomachache and left to find the restroom. She muttered something about eating something hot and cold for breakfast—after all, who eats ice cream first thing in the morning?

Just as Kotomi was about to call Eiren Kanagawa to ask where Mashiro’s piece was being displayed, she stopped in her tracks.

At the deepest end of the first exhibition gallery, there was a large painting.

Kotomi stood before it.

This was Mashiro’s painting.

—The white-haired girl longs for a sense of safety. To her, the safest place is inside an eggshell. That tiny, enclosed space seemed capable of shielding her from all the world’s storms.

Others may wish to become birds to fly freely. But the white-haired girl wants to become a bird so she can stay curled up inside her egg forever.

One day, she obtained a black egg.

Pitch black as an abyss, devoid of light. It seemed like any light that touched the egg would be devoured instantly by its darkness.

To gain that little sense of security, the girl paid a price: she gave up her right arm, then her left arm, her right leg, and finally her left leg.

”If I stay inside the egg like this... will I really be safe?”

She asked the dark egg that surrounded her, but there was no reply. Only silence.

A long, long time passed.

Crack.

A sharp, clear sound echoed. Cracks splintered across the black egg, thin and chaotic, like knife wounds cut across a human body. The shell began to fall away in fragments.

Inside the shattered remains, the limbless white-haired girl looked around with calm eyes. The interior of the egg was filled with thick, dark red fluid.

Blood-red liquid seeped from the cracked egg, spreading outward like she had just finished bathing and was now rising. The liquid overflowed from the egg as she ”stood up.”

But without legs... how could she stand?

Crimson soaked the earth.

This was Mashiro’s painting.

Just as she had said earlier, her artwork featured an eggshell.

The limbless white-haired girl appeared to be sitting—or maybe standing—in the pool of red fluid spilling from the fragmented shell. Her delicate, beautiful face showed no expression. No joy, no sorrow. Only a calmness that seemed eternal.

Beneath the painting, her name was written as the artist, along with the title: The Abyss Egg.

The girl in the broken shell seemed to have been born from the black egg, soaking in the warm, blood-colored liquid. Or perhaps she was a bird who had lost her wings and could no longer fly, retreating into the shell to live out the rest of her days.

Kotomi stood before The Abyss Egg, staring in a daze.

Next to her, another female participant was admiring the painting as well. Glancing over, she inadvertently compared Kotomi’s profile with the girl in the painting.

...They looked very similar.

From expression to facial features, it was like they had been carved from the same mold. Even though this was an art exhibition, seeing The Abyss Egg made it hard to believe it was created with a brush.

Kotomi, standing before The Abyss Egg, looked just like the girl from the painting—as if she had stepped right out of the canvas.

The white-haired girl—whether sitting or standing in the broken shell overflowing with crimson liquid—turned her head slightly, those beautiful eyes seeming to gaze directly at the viewers outside the painting.

Kotomi glanced at Mashiro beside her, just as Mashiro lifted her gaze to meet Kotomi’s. Their eyes locked. In Mashiro’s eyes was a mix of nervousness and anticipation, unsure of what Kotomi’s reaction would be.

She knew the content of her painting was unusually bold. This eerie, dark, and beautiful coexisting style had never appeared in her past works.

If Kotomi were displeased, it wouldn’t be surprising.

After all, for most people, no one wants to see themselves missing arms and legs, even if only in a painting.

With Mashiros skill, she could have easily painted in her usual style and still secured a spot in the exhibition. A more conventional piece would have been smooth and composed—nothing like the jarring, unconventional nature of The Abyss Egg.

When this large painting was presented to the judges, who were already eagerly anticipating it due to Mashiro’s reputation, their expressions changed the moment they actually saw it.

The prevailing reaction: surprise.

Every judge present had previously admired Mashiro’s work. They had all speculated about what she might paint this time.

None of them got it right.

No one expected such a drastic shift in style—from her typically bright and colorful themes to something dark and heavy.

Yet despite that, faced with the sheer excellence of her brushwork—arguably the most technically impressive piece she had ever created—the judges, albeit conflicted, had no choice but to accept The Abyss Egg into the first round.

Mashiro herself was fully aware that the sudden shift in style would shock many.

But the moment she decided to make Kotomi the subject of her painting, her brush simply couldn’t be restrained.

Each time she worked on The Abyss Egg, it felt as though her mind had entered a frenzied, indescribable world. She used dark, oppressive colors with no sketch, drawing every line directly onto the canvas with paint-loaded brushes.

No planning. No hesitation. Just wild strokes, pouring her thoughts directly onto the canvas, holding nothing back.

”The Abyss Egg” wasn’t even the painting’s full title. On the entry form for the exhibition, there was a limit on the number of characters allowed for artwork titles.

After all, it wasn’t her own exhibition—she had to follow the organizers’ rules.

Reluctantly, Mashiro shortened the title on the submission form.

The full name was: The Abyss Egg – Dedicated to My Snow-White Beloved.

That snow-white beloved... was Kotomi, who now stood beside her.

Kotomi stared silently at Mashiro. Under that gaze, Mashiro couldn’t tell what Kotomi was thinking.

Was she happy? Or... angry?

The latter seemed more likely.

Not knowing Kotomi’s feelings filled Mashiro with nervous tension. She kept her head low, lips softly pressed together, her amber-orange eyes glistening like soda in a ramune bottle.

She looked just like a kitten who had accidentally knocked over a family heirloom.

Kotomi let out a soft chuckle. ”I remember we all used similar-sized canvases back in the art club when we were working on our exhibition pieces. So why is your painting so huge now?”

”It doesn’t look like it because of the frame, but if you took it out and examined it up close, you’d see this painting is actually made from several canvases stitched together. That’s why back in the art club the canvas size looked the same as everyone else’s, but here in the gallery it seems so huge,” Mashiro explained softly, twirling a strand of her hair around her fingertip.

After hearing that, Kotomi immediately understood. Mashiro hadn’t been painting one large canvas during those clubroom sessions. Instead, she had split her artwork into separate sections, completing each on a different canvas and then combining them into one complete piece.

Like putting together puzzle pieces to form a finished image.

”You always act so quiet and obedient, but if I look away for even a second, you hit me with a surprise like this. I almost didn’t react when I saw how massive your painting was at first. I didn’t know you could do that. I’ve learned something today. I’m definitely going to try that next time,” Kotomi said cheerfully, her smile showing no sign of the anger Mashiro had feared.

”Kotomi... you’re not mad?”

”Why would I be mad?” Kotomi asked in confusion. ”Getting a world-class genius artist to paint me personally? That kind of privilege probably only belongs to me.”

If she could, Kotomi would proudly brag about this across all of Chiba in one day.

And then she’d call her grandparents.

If her grandparents found out, they’d probably brag about it to half of Japan.

After a moment, Kotomi smiled gently.

”I know what you were worried about earlier. But really, there’s no need. I can’t say I fully understand the meaning behind The Abyss Egg just yet, but this painting you made for me... I love it.”

Mashiro probably didn’t know this...

But a beautiful girl missing her limbs happened to be one of Kotomi’s secret fetishes.

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason Kotomi loved the painting.

From the moment she laid eyes on The Abyss Egg, she felt an inexplicable closeness to it—a rising tide of familiarity.

Mashiro stared at Kotomi, taking in her every word. In that moment, she completely forgot she was a world-renowned prodigy. Right now, she was just an ordinary girl who wanted to be closer to Kotomi.

”Kotomi...”

Mashiro mumbled, head still lowered.

”Hm?”

Kotomi turned her head, still admiring the painting, to look at her.

Mashiro shuffled forward with tiny steps, closing the distance between them until it nearly reached zero. She raised her eyes, which reflected the face of her snow-white beloved.

Time seemed to slow around them.

Mashiro gently placed her hands on Kotomi’s round shoulders. Her heart thundered in her chest, her body trembled slightly with nerves. But as soon as she spoke, the anxiety vanished.

”Kotomi, will you marry me?”

—My snow-white beloved, do you know?

I love you.

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