All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

”Please enjoy.”

After placing the tea in front of Yui, Yukino Yukinoshita spoke softly.

”Thank you.” Yui Yuigahama nodded without the slightest suspicion and took a sip from the cup.

Seeing this, Yukino could not help but let out a small laugh.

”If I had slipped some poison into your tea just now while you weren’t paying attention, you would already be dead.”

Yui froze for a moment when she heard that, then burst into laughter.

”Yuki, I’ve noticed you’ve been joking more and more lately. But that one isn’t very funny—because you’d never poison me.”

”You’re that certain?” Yukino Yukinoshita’s heart sank slightly, as though she were forcibly suppressing some dangerous thought. Yet she could not stop herself from asking.

”Of course. Because, Yuki, you are my best friend!”

Yui Yuigahama nodded firmly, her face carrying an innocent smile completely free of doubt.

Yukino Yukinoshita fell silent.

Facing Yui’s utterly trusting expression and tone, Yukino felt as if she were a vampire who could only survive in darkness, suddenly exposed to the blazing sun—burned to ashes in an instant.

”...Thank you.”

Yukino Yukinoshita did not know what words she should use to respond to Yui’s friendship and trust. In front of Yui, she felt like a despicable, shameless person. After thinking for a long time, the only words she could manage were thank you.

She did not even have the courage to say I’m sorry.

Nor did she have the courage to say: You are my best friend too!

It felt as though the moment she uttered those words, thunder would split the sky outside.

A thousand words churned within her heart, but in the end, Yukino Yukinoshita only added softly:

”Drink slowly. The tea... is a little hot.”

”Mm.”

...

Tokyo.

Dengeki Bunko.

Operations Department.

After finishing a meeting in the conference room, Ai Futada, who was in charge of operating Dengeki Bunko’s official Twitter account, rubbed her shoulders as she returned to her seat. She shook the mouse lightly, waking the computer from its black screen.

Although everyone at Dengeki Bunko had been busy lately because of the Dengeki Festival, this was actually the most relaxing kind of busy. There was nothing else to worry about—just follow the schedule and handle the preheating and promotion for the event step by step.

Busy was still busy, and there was occasional overtime, but overtime meant generous overtime pay.

After calculating the extra pay from the past few days, Ai Futada instantly stopped hesitating about whether to buy the pair of high heels she had been eyeing in Ginza when next month’s salary came in. Her monthly pay was not particularly high, and those heels were expensive—buying them would have meant living on instant noodles for a month.

But now, with the overtime pay added in, it would be enough to buy two pairs.

”When the Dengeki Festival starts, if there isn’t anything especially urgent to handle, I should find some time to walk around and enjoy it myself...”

Muttering to herself, Ai Futada moved the mouse and opened Twitter.

The moment the page loaded, she was stunned by the bright red 999+ notification icon.

Dengeki Bunko had many extremely popular works under its label, but most readers and fans mainly followed the official accounts of specific series or authors. Few people paid much attention to Dengeki Bunko’s official Twitter account itself.

So even when the official account posted promotional tweets, getting over a thousand comments in a day was already considered a good result.

But the 999+ red notification dot in front of her left Ai Futada completely dumbfounded. It had been a long time since the official account had received so many messages at once.

”When was the last time I checked the account? This morning when I started work, right? Wh-Why are there suddenly so many new notifications?”

For a moment, Ai Futada could not figure out what was going on. Fortunately, she had not forgotten her job. After quickly scanning through the comments, she realized the reason for the explosion—readers were arguing over Izumi Ki.

Izumi Ki’s fans were extremely dissatisfied with the list of participating works announced for the Dengeki Festival. Neither Izumi Ki nor Sword Art Online appeared on the list. They could not understand why the number one best-selling title failed to even make it onto the participation roster.

Amid the criticism directed at Dengeki Bunko, some people began saying:

”Even if Izumi Ki is popular and selling well right now, it’s still a newcomer work that hasn’t been out for long. Maybe Dengeki Bunko thinks the serialization period is too short, so they didn’t invite Izumi Ki to the festival. Heh. I’ve always said novels like this—with no literary depth, just face-slapping wish fulfillment—don’t belong in refined settings.”

But those comments were quickly crushed.

”Is there something wrong with your brain? What kind of pretentious poverty mindset produces nonsense like that?”

”We’re talking about commercial fiction, and you’re bringing up seniority?”

”I’m just an ordinary guy who works himself to the bone every day. When I get home, I just want to read some satisfying power-fantasy from Izumi Ki. What’s wrong with that?”

”Dengeki Bunko publishes novels to make money. Authors write there to make money. What do you think this is—a literary press? Literary standards? Give me a break. Everything depends on strength. High sales and high popularity deserve the best treatment. Mutual benefit. If your sales aren’t high, even if you’ve been writing since Dengeki Bunko was first established, they still won’t invite you.”

”Whoever wrote this participation list—are they out of their mind? So many best-selling titles made it on. Why is Izumi Ki the only one missing?”

Although there were a few comments saying it was reasonable not to invite Izumi Ki, they were like tiny insects in a garbage heap—hardly worth mentioning.

In order to demand an explanation for Izumi Ki and Sword Art Online, readers had pushed the comment section from just over eight hundred messages to ten thousand.

Ai Futada quickly compiled a summary of the issue and sent it to the editor-in-chief. The participation list for the Dengeki Festival had originally been approved by the chief editor. Now that there was a problem, it naturally had to be reported upward.

After sending the summary, Ai Futada finally let out a small sigh of relief. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with a wet tissue, then continued scrolling through the comments.

She could not help but marvel:

”Izumi Ki’s readers are incredibly loyal. It’s been less than six hours since the participation list was posted, and the comments have already surged past ten thousand.”

At the same time, she felt puzzled.

”Why didn’t Chief Editor Hiraya include Sword Art Online on the participation list?”

...

Editorial Department.

Yuko Hiratsuka was holding a meeting with the editors in the conference room. The three-hour meeting had been dominated by matters related to the Dengeki Festival, which took up three quarters of the time. The remaining issues were compressed into the final quarter for brief discussion.

Just as Yuko Hiratsuka was about to close her laptop and announce the end of the meeting, she suddenly received a message.

After opening it and giving it a quick read, she let out a helpless smile and addressed the editors in the room.

”Sorry, everyone. There’s been a small situation regarding the Dengeki Festival. Let’s extend the meeting for a few more minutes.”

With that, she projected the summary feedback from the Operations Department onto the large screen in the conference room.

After a few minutes of reading, the editors understood what had happened in the comment section.

”What are everyone’s thoughts on this?” Yuko Hiratsuka asked with a faint smile.

One editor spoke up first.

”The Dengeki Festival is just around the corner. To preserve the mystery of the signing event, I think we shouldn’t announce in advance that Izumi Ki will be attending.

”To put it bluntly, judging by the recent popularity and sales, Izumi Ki’s Sword Art Online has been dominating the charts. None of the others can really compete. Right now, readers might still be speculating about whose signing event it will be at this year’s festival.

”But if we announce ahead of time that Izumi Ki will attend, then who the main attraction of the signing event is becomes obvious. It’ll definitely be Izumi Ki.”

Another editor quickly agreed.

”Exactly. It’s already set in stone that Izumi Ki will attend the Dengeki Festival and hold a signing event there. If we keep quiet for now, we can maintain some suspense. The answer will be revealed soon anyway, and readers will be satisfied.”

A third editor spoke up at that moment.

”That makes sense, but I still have to rebut what Editor Iwata just said. What do you mean by ’none of the others can compete’?

”It’s undeniable that Izumi Ki’s popularity and sales are chart-topping. But we can’t overlook the other authors participating in the submission contest just because of one person’s outstanding performance. That’s a narrow perspective. This contest has brought out quite a few promising newcomers, and some veteran authors have even broken through their bottlenecks.”

”Heh, that sounds awfully righteous. Aren’t you just trying to show off that some of the authors you’re in charge of achieved results in the contest?

”Unfortunately, that won’t work on me. The authors under my supervision were too busy writing their current projects to participate. Oh, and by the way, one of my authors just sold the audio drama adaptation rights.

”How about the authors under your supervision? Any achievements in adaptation rights?” Editor Iwata shot back with a grin.

Just as the tension between the two editors was heating up, Yuko Hiratsuka cleared her throat lightly, signaling them to stop.

”Ahem. We extended this meeting to discuss the issue currently facing the Dengeki Bunko official Twitter account—or rather, the issue facing Dengeki Bunko as a whole. If the two of you want to argue, you can find an empty lot after work and settle it there.”

”My apologies.”

”Sorry about that.”

After that, Yuko Hiratsuka turned to Haruno Yukinoshita.

”Editor Yukinoshita, you’re Izumi Ki’s assigned editor. What’s your take on this?”

Haruno Yukinoshita, who had been looking down at Twitter, finally raised her head and smiled helplessly.

”I think there’s something more important we should be paying attention to right now.”

”Hm? What is it?”

Yuko Hiratsuka asked in surprise. She had carefully read through the Operations Department’s summary earlier. Although readers were currently agitated in the comment section, it was an easy problem to resolve. All they had to do was announce in advance that Sword Art Online would participate in the Dengeki Festival.

Haruno Yukinoshita sighed softly.

”Chief Editor Hiratsuka, try opening Twitter and take a look at Izumi Ki’s personal account.”

Although Haruno did not say it outright, as chief editor, Yuko Hiratsuka immediately sensed a possibility. Her mood grew tense.

Reader anger could be easily resolved. But what if Izumi Ki—the author of Sword Art Online—was angry as well?

Anxious to check, Yuko Hiratsuka fumbled several times and even entered her phone password incorrectly before finally opening Twitter and entering Izumi Ki’s official account.

The first thing she saw was a tweet posted a few hours ago.

Izumi Ki: [Not in a great mood lately, so I took my laptop and went traveling. I originally planned to work out the plot for Sword Art Online, but the more I wrote, the worse my mood became. Why is that~ I don’t know either. Maybe my fate with Sword Art Online has come to an end. I suppose I should start thinking about a new project instead. It just so happens I’ve had a lot of ideas for something new lately.]

The moment she read the tweet, Yuko Hiratsuka was stunned.

Not a single word directly mentioned Dengeki Bunko or the Dengeki Festival. Yet between the lines—and even in every punctuation mark—it practically felt like Izumi Ki was riding on Dengeki Bunko’s neck and scolding them.

Yuko Hiratsuka twitched her lips and let out a helpless, bitter laugh.

”Is Izumi Ki feeling wronged...? Well, that’s understandable. The participation list has already been published. Seeing her work absent from the list, she’d naturally be unhappy. She’s still relatively new, after all. She wouldn’t know we intentionally left it out to preserve the mystery of the signing event at the festival.”

Then she suddenly realized something.

”Wait—Haruno. You haven’t even told Izumi Ki about the signing event yet, have you?”

”Nope.” Haruno Yukinoshita nodded. ”I asked you earlier whether we should inform Izumi Ki in advance that we’d be holding a signing event for her at the Dengeki Festival. You refused. You said the festival signing event is different from regular ones—it’s less solemn and more lively. So not only should it be a surprise for the readers, it should also be a surprise for the author.”

After Haruno repeated Yuko Hiratsuka’s earlier words, Ai Kagami, who was sitting beside her, could not help but snort with laughter.

A surprise, a surprise. Now it had turned into a full-blown scare for the entire Dengeki Bunko editorial department.

Izumi Ki’s tweet was only one sentence away from directly saying: ’Dengeki Bunko didn’t invite me to the Dengeki Festival, so I’m planning to switch imprints.’

What worried the editors even more was the overwhelming engagement the tweet had generated.

Under Izumi Ki’s post, there were already nearly thirty thousand comments, and the number of likes had long since surpassed one hundred thousand.

—

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