All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

After making sure everything was in place, Kotomi Izumi started typing.

Although she had already sent several volumes of Sword Art Online’s manuscript to Haruno Yukinoshita, and didn’t need to worry about deadlines in the short term, this time Dengeki Bunko had decided to publish volumes 2 and 3 together.

That meant two volumes of content were consumed at once.

Of course, releasing two books at once would result in a higher royalty payout—but if they kept publishing them in pairs like this, those manuscripts she’d already submitted wouldn’t last long.

Kotomi planned to talk to Haruno once she returned, to ask if they could go back to the usual schedule of releasing one volume every few months after volume 4.

That said, she didn’t need to worry about that just yet.

Right now, most of her attention was on her new light novel project: Redo of Healer.

Originally, she’d pictured her time in Kyoto spent writing peacefully—sitting at the hotel desk, sipping hot coffee, tapping away at her laptop while occasionally glancing out the window at the city of Kyoto. A serene and productive atmosphere.

She had expected that in these three days, even if she didn’t hit 100,000 words for volume 1 of the new series, she’d at least manage 30,000.

But now, opening her Word document, she was struck with a rather embarrassing realization...

She hadn’t written a single word in three days. Not one.

”Ugh... Now that I think about it, I’ve done nothing but eat and sleep these past few days. No wonder I haven’t written anything. But it’s fine! If I focus now and write diligently before tonight’s closing ceremony, I can still churn out a few thousand words. If I keep up that pace, I might just finish the first draft by the end of the month!”

Kotomi tried to pump herself up. She had been promising herself she’d finish the draft by month’s end, but now, halfway through the month, she hadn’t even reached 10% progress.

Even as a certified slacker, Kotomi was starting to feel a twinge of guilt over her procrastination.

If she had kept a daily journal during her trip to Kyoto, it would probably read something like this:

Day 1: I want to go to Gion to hear music.

Day 2: I want to go to Gion to hear music.

Day 3: Kotomi, come on. Can’t you sit down and think about all the things you haven’t finished yet? What manuscripts haven’t you written or illustrated? What happened to your creative plans? Confucius said, ”Each day I examine myself on three matters.” You can’t go on like this!

Scratch that.

Day 3: I want to go to Gion to hear music.

Kotomi wiped the sweat from her forehead. Maybe not keeping a diary was a good habit after all.

Otherwise, if anyone ever read it, she’d die from embarrassment.

Taking a deep breath and adjusting her mindset, Kotomi got back to work.

Three minutes later.

700 words written. What a champ. Time to save, exit Word, and reward herself with a bit of galgame.

About half an hour later, Mashiro Shiina stirred. Her delicate brows furrowed slightly as she woke from her nap. She had dreamed of marrying Kotomi, and when she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Kotomi typing away at her laptop by the window.

Overcome with joy, she broke into a bright, cheerful smile.

She had assumed Kotomi’s promise to stay by her side while she slept was just a comforting lie.

But Kotomi had kept her word.

How could Mashiro not be happy?

One of her deepest wishes was to always wake up to Kotomi being the first thing she saw...

”Kotomi, I’m awake!” Mashiro called out happily.

She always felt like she wasn’t good with words, but whenever she spoke to Kotomi—even just simple exchanges—they made her heart overflow with joy.

When Kotomi heard Mashiro’s cheerful voice, she turned her head and smiled gently at her, but said nothing.

Mashiro tilted her head, looking adorably puzzled. She didn’t understand why Kotomi wasn’t speaking, so she curiously asked:

”Kotomi, why aren’t you saying anything?”

Kotomi closed her laptop, walked over to the bed, and gently stroked Mashiro’s soft cheek, smiling sweetly.

”I was thinking.”

”Thinking?” Mashiro tilted her head even more, looking utterly confused.

”Mm. I was thinking... should I say good morning, or good evening?”

Kotomi pointed toward the window. The last rays of dusk had disappeared, and although it was technically still early evening, the sky outside had gone completely dark.

”Did I sleep that long...?”

The joy on Mashiro’s face quickly faded. She thought she had overslept and missed the closing ceremony.

And Kotomi must have missed it too—because she had stayed with her.

The thought filled Mashiro’s heart with both warmth and guilt. For her, missing the closing ceremony wasn’t a big deal. After all, she was a world-class painting prodigy. Even if she skipped the ceremony, no one would dare say anything.

In fact, her very participation in the National Youth Art Awards hosted by Tokyo National University was already an honor. Breaking a few formalities wouldn’t be held against her.

But Kotomi was different.

Even if Kotomi’s artistic talent was exceptional, in the eyes of the judges, she was still just a newcomer. Talented or not, she was expected to follow the rules. Some of the younger judges might be flexible, but the older, more traditional ones?

They loved nothing more than talking about rules and decorum.

If a student violated those rules, they’d likely go out of their way to find reasons to criticize them. Out of bias or spite, they might even eliminate them from the competition.

Even the most talented could be written off as arrogant and disrespectful, lacking the temperament to go far in the world of art.

The art world wasn’t all about dramatic clashes—it was about navigating complex social relationships. And sometimes, those were more dangerous than any swordfight.

Mashiro glanced at Kotomi.

She didn’t know what time it was, but if Kotomi had really missed the closing ceremony for her...

Then she had already made up her mind.

Even if it meant withdrawing herself, she would make sure Kotomi remained in the competition.

Did she want the award?

Of course.

Even after winning countless honors, Mashiro still took pride in every recognition tied to her art. If it was a painting award, she wanted it.

But for someone like Kotomi—someone who would do this much for her—Mashiro was willing to step back. She would take a loss if it meant Kotomi could continue.

So what if the world called her a genius?

Only Mashiro herself truly understood: her world wasn’t that big. It was small enough to fit in the palms of her hands. But if Kotomi wanted it—she’d share every bit of it with her.

Because for this girl, hailed since childhood as a world-class prodigy, her beloved in white was her everything.

Mashiro leaned forward and gently wrapped her arms around Kotomi’s waist.

She wanted to tell her:

The title of the painting she submitted to the National Youth Art Awards was—The Abyss Egg: Dedicated to My Snow-White Beloved.

”Mashiro?”

Suddenly being hugged caught Kotomi off guard. She didn’t quite understand what was happening.

”Kotomi...” Mashiro murmured softly, burying her face deep in Kotomi’s arms. ”I don’t want to participate in the National Youth Art Awards anymore.”

”Huh?!”

That sentence startled Kotomi to the core. Why would Mashiro suddenly say she wanted to drop out of the competition?

To be honest, Kotomi didn’t have absolute confidence she would win the award herself. But when it came to Mashiro—she was at least 99% sure of her chances.

Ever since the news came out that Mashiro would be participating in the Tokyo National University National Youth Art Awards, people had already begun saying the award was practically in her pocket.

But now, just after the conclusion of the first round of the exhibition, Mashiro was saying she wanted to quit?!

What was going on?

Kotomi stood there stunned, unsure of what to say. She knew Mashiro had her own strong personality, the kind of girl who seemed completely absorbed in her art and indifferent to everything else around her—but she was still very obedient and never caused unnecessary trouble.

And compared to Kotomi, who was just a newcomer participating in an art competition for the first time, Mashiro had already taken part in several contests, big and small. If anyone knew the consequences of withdrawing midway through an award, it would be Mashiro.

Forget about fines—the very act of withdrawing would be enough fuel for countless people to criticize her.

The saying ”peers are rivals” was incredibly fitting here. The art world was no different.

Mashiro had grown up surrounded by praise, blessed by the goddess of art herself. Her brilliance had long overshadowed many others’ hard work.

Losing to her was one thing—it was natural to feel frustration and defeat—but some people never learned to deal with that, and instead grew jealous of her.

And what did those people want more than anything?

To see Mashiro fail.

There were countless people eager to see her falter.

If Mashiro really withdrew from the National Youth Art Awards, word would spread quickly, and vultures would swoop in—like sharks that smelled blood.

Had her skills declined so much that she lost the confidence to compete?

The once-great genius, now creatively spent?

Arrogance led her to believe the competition wasn’t even worth her time?

Kotomi could already imagine the flood of cynical, sarcastic commentary.

She looked at Mashiro with complicated emotions, hugging her tightly and whispering:

”What’s going on? Why would you suddenly say you want to drop out? Don’t you know how many people are just waiting for you to make a mistake so they can tear you apart with words?”

As she spoke, Kotomi’s arms wrapped more tightly around Mashiro, as if she wanted to pull her into her very soul.

Yet Mashiro didn’t feel any discomfort. On the contrary, she loved being held like this. She welcomed Kotomi’s overly forceful embrace. In that tightening hold that made breathing a little difficult, she felt a deeper kind of safety.

She gently closed her eyes, letting Kotomi wrap around her, and then began to speak—bit by bit—about what had been on her mind.

Kotomi still didn’t understand why Mashiro was so set on quitting. But when she heard Mashiro talk about missing the closing ceremony, and the thoughts that followed, she froze.

Then after a few seconds of silence—Kotomi suddenly burst into laughter, giggling uncontrollably.

She really tried to hold back her laughter—to avoid ruining the perfect mood for a heartfelt exchange that could easily fast-forward into a confession—but...

She just couldn’t hold it in!

Kotomi knew Mashiro could be a bit airheaded, but this was on another level.

Who would see that it was dark outside and just assume they had overslept and missed the closing ceremony?!

Silly girl, don’t you know it gets dark much earlier in autumn and winter?!

In that moment, Kotomi suddenly felt her posture straighten with pride. So she wasn’t the most clueless one after all!

But when she heard that Mashiro had seriously considered withdrawing from the art award competition, just so Kotomi wouldn’t be affected by her supposed lateness... her gaze softened even more.

Her eyes swirled with emotions too deep for words.

”You fool...”

Kotomi held Mashiro close and whispered the words. Even though she spoke softly, her uneven breathing betrayed her emotions.

What she did next even surprised her in hindsight.

She gently lifted Mashiro’s delicate chin, her face inching closer in the quiet of night and the warmth of their embrace. With their hearts drawing nearer, words felt meaningless. She could only express it through action.

Kotomi kissed Mashiro.

It was her first time initiating a kiss. Compared to the ones Mashiro had initiated before, this kiss felt a little different. But what hadn’t changed—was the love they held for each other.

Kotomi suddenly realized her chances in this 100-day ”Mashiro romance strategy” might have just dropped a little.

Half an hour later, Mashiro finally got out of bed and changed her clothes.

Her cheeks were glowing red—partly from embarrassment over Kotomi’s kiss, and partly from realizing she hadn’t actually overslept or made Kotomi miss the ceremony. Reflecting on her earlier actions and words made her blush even deeper.

Because it was chilly outside, she wore a pair of white tights and soft cream-colored princess shoes. Her delicate appearance was touched with a rosy hue, and her beautiful eyes occasionally glanced shyly toward Kotomi.

She still wasn’t used to wearing tights, but when she remembered Kotomi liked it, she blushed and put them on.

”K-Kotomi, do you like how I look?” Mashiro asked, her voice timid and her face red.

Kotomi only had to glance at her once—and her eyes locked on, captivated. If Eiren Kanagawa hadn’t already started calling to hurry them downstairs, Kotomi might have scooped Mashiro into her arms, taken off her shoes, and...

Kotomi had always had a strange habit: the colder the weather, the more she craved ice cream.

Now, it was freezing—and she wanted ”ice cream” again.

”You look like a princess who’s stepped out of a fairy tale.”

Kotomi smiled, reaching out her hand to Mashiro. Mashiro smiled too and gently placed her hand in Kotomi’s—as if offering a royal hand for a kiss.

Before leaving the presidential suite, they shared one more kiss.

By the time they hurried down to the hotel entrance, they spotted Eiren Kanagawa leaning against a car, scrolling through her phone, lightly tapping her toe—clearly having waited for quite a while.

”Sorry we’re late, Professor Kanagawa!” Kotomi called out, a bit flustered. She didn’t even notice that she was still holding Mashiro’s hand as they ran toward her.

There were only thirty minutes left before the closing ceremony—it was no wonder Kotomi was in a rush.

Though, to be fair, it was also her own fault for sneaking in another kiss before they left.

Eiren had been about to scold them in typical teacher fashion, but when she saw their hands intertwined, she froze.

Then she smiled like an indulgent auntie and muttered quietly to herself:

”Wow~ Young love is so sweet.”

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