Ever since Yukinoshita Yukino moved into her new apartment, her sister, Yukinoshita Haruno, had developed a firm belief: her dearest sister must be spending a long time at her dearer junior's house every single day.
In reality, Haruno's idea was biased. Yukino didn't go to Hachiman's apartment every day. She had her own life, her own study rhythm, and her own hobbies. She could live a wonderful life alone. She and Hachiman were just ordinary classmates and neighbors... right?
"Tomorrow I'm going to attend writer Kasumi Shiko's book signing event to discuss some work matters. Do you want to come with me?"
It was already eleven o'clock at night. Hikigaya Hachiman finished typing and looked over at Yukinoshita Yukino, who had been lying silently on his bed beside him.
"A book signing event... huh? Sure," she replied, her voice lazy. She had been on the verge of falling asleep. "After it's over, let's go for a walk together. It feels like I haven't been out with you for a while, Hikigaya-kun."
In Hachiman's house, Yukino always seemed soft and cute. Since entering high school, the two of them had hardly spent any time together outside of their apartments and school. It had been a long time since they had the experience of just going out shopping or eating when they had nothing else to do.
"Sure. Is there any place you want to go, Yukino?" Hachiman asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs.
"It doesn't matter," she mumbled, burying her head in the pillow. "I'll just follow you."
By now, Kasumigaoka Utaha and Sawamura Eriri could be said to be inseparable, though they still seemed to be at odds with each other every time they met. In truth, they both recognized each other's talents in their hearts, but they both had somewhat awkward personalities and hated to be at a disadvantage in a war of words.
"Hey, Sawamura-san," Utaha said with a helpless look at the golden-haired cartoonist, who was sitting in what was supposed to be Utaha's seat, browsing on her phone. "Since you've come here so early, why don't you help me?"
"Well, I can't do anything about that," Eriri said, putting down her phone and approaching Utaha with some excitement. "But you can start calling me 'writer Sawamura' from now on. After all, I'm a manga artist who will be serializing in Weekly Young Magazine, and I'm working with the great writer Hachiman."
Eriri's boasting was not without reason. Even in the world of 2D media, the respect afforded to a professional manga artist is higher than that of a light novelist. However, since Eriri hadn't been a "serious" cartoonist before, she couldn't really use this status to suppress Utaha.
"Okay, great cartoonist Sawamura," Utaha said, a sarcastic edge to her voice as she stuffed a stack of Love Metronome's fourth volume into Eriri's arms and patted her on the head. "Please help move these books to the table by the door."
"Damn it! Stop touching my head, fat woman!" Eriri complained, but with a pile of novels in her hands, she had no choice but to get to work.
In fact, the book signing event Sakuraba had held for Hachiman in March was one of the most luxurious in Japan. Most events held by less famous novelists were relatively simple and unpretentious; some were so bare-bones that the author had to arrange the venue themselves.
"Sawamura-san, after your manga with Mr. Hachiman is published, would you like to hold a book signing event?" Utaha suggested after the venue was set up and the two were resting. "Although it can be hard work, it's a very fulfilling thing to see so many fans who admire you."
"Stop it, senior," Eriri said, shaking her head. "As I am now, I will only have one public identity. As for the alias of Kashiwagi Eri, let it remain a secret forever." Even if the name 'Kashiwagi Eri' became well-known many years from now, the fact that it had once been used to draw adult manga would not be forgotten. That was exactly what embarrassed Eriri.
"I'm afraid that might be... a bit difficult, painter Kashiwagi," Utaha's voice sounded somewhat gloating. She handed her cell phone to Eriri, which displayed the latest notice from the Japanese Ministry of Finance.
"In order to implement the new consumption tax policy, all taxpayers need to register as 'eligible invoice issuers' starting from October this year? After registration, real names and other information... will be disclosed by the National Tax Agency?! What!" Eriri read the news in disbelief.
"Can't I just not register? This is so unfair! Even the Ministry of Finance can't be this overbearing!"
"Actually, this isn't a mandatory policy, Sawamura-san," Utaha explained with a smile. "But if you don't register, then even if your clients get your invoice, they can't claim a tax deduction."
"What? How is that any different from coercion?" Eriri was aghast. "Who would cooperate with me if my invoices can't be used to offset their taxes?"
She completely collapsed, laying her head on the table and wailing like a spoiled child. She no longer cared about the hand that Utaha was once again using to pat her on the head.
"Don't worry, Sawamura-kun," Utaha comforted her. "In fact, the only people who will know are those you directly cooperate with. As long as they don't tell anyone, no one will find out." In reality, many creators like YouTubers, cartoonists, and light novel writers who wanted to protect their identities were protesting this matter, but the effect of the protest was, predictably, non-existent.
For a moment, Eriri even considered using her mother's account for future collaborations, but she quickly changed her mind. It felt a bit unfilial to use her mother's identity just to protect her own shameful history as an H-manga author. Besides, her mother, Sayuri, was also a well-known figure in Chiba's social circles.
"Forget it. Let's just take it one step at a time," Eriri said, finally letting it go. "As a small individual, all I can do is my job, right?" If this had happened in the past, she would have been troubled by it for a long time. But not now. This was the confidence and calmness that her upcoming collaboration with Hikigaya Hachiman had brought her.
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