After coming upstairs, Gotham Song couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. She couldn't put her finger on it, but the sense lingered—something strange in the air, an odd atmosphere surrounding her, yet with no clear source.
How to describe it? As if she were walking in the middle of something uncanny, and yet she couldn't find the root. Only that vague wrongness kept tugging at her nerves.
For example… the posters on the walls?
Some time earlier, Gotham Song had privately done her homework on this so-called Voice of the People award. She knew it was tied closely to that scheming Old Bastard No. 2—Secretariat.
The two were often promoted together. In fact, one official name of the award was even "Secretariat Voice of the People."
And the main reason for that was obvious: at the ceremony, the venue would always be covered with Secretariat's posters. Or rather, only Secretariat's posters, decorating the space. And ever since Secretariat had first won it, she herself had appeared every year to personally present the honor to that year's winner.
But what Gotham Song was seeing now was completely different from everything she'd heard.
Her confusion only deepened. After sneezing several times, finally used to the faint foundation scent on her own face, she turned her crystalline eyes to the world beyond the backstage curtain. Through a tiny slit, she peered into the grand hall outside.
And what she saw—
Not a single giant Secretariat poster.
Instead, the face plastered across the entire venue was a very, very familiar one.
Her own.
Gotham Song's face.
And not just her face—her in the new Racing Outfit…!
…Huh?
Something was seriously wrong. Leaving aside the question of why her image was there at all, there was an even bigger problem.
This new outfit—today was the first time she'd ever seen it, let alone worn it. And the only photo she had sent out was a single mirror selfie to Tokai Teio.
In other words, even if you ignored the impossible production time, there was simply no way the Voice of the People organizers could have had material for such posters!
Weird. Are you telling me they somehow got hold of my picture in an outfit I'd never worn yet, and used it to decorate the hall? Has the world reached the point where they can make photos of someone in clothes they've never put on? Don't tell me… some super AI made this?!
Damn it—I've become AI training data!
And yet, what unsettled her most was how unfamiliar the girl in the posters looked.
How to describe it? More like her Twilight Song self—slimmer, frailer, her face stripped of smiles, steeped in a murderous aura like she might charge across the Sanzu River any second to slaughter those other Old Bastards.
But the outfit couldn't be faked. That cape alone marked it as something entirely new, not the original style of her past life.
So… what, is this some weird AI mash-up?
Gotham Song twitched at the corner of her mouth and finally gave up thinking about it. What else could she do? Old Bastard No. 2 had clearly pulled something again. If they wanted to turn this into the "Song Voice of the People," then fine—she'd just hold her nose and accept it.
And hey, she had to admit—being the poster girl for a historically prestigious award didn't feel bad at all. Recognition of her status, her strength, her popularity—what wasn't there to enjoy?
Turning back, she saw there was still some time before the ceremony officially began. For a moment she thought of sneaking out to find Vernal-chan and the others to kill the boredom. But after a little thought, she restrained herself.
After all, wasn't she supposed to be today's main character? If she caused some accident that delayed the ceremony, she would never forgive herself.
So, with nothing else to do, Gotham Song pulled out her phone. After a brief hesitation, she opened a certain app and typed a familiar ID into the search bar.
I remember it was… "Love Ruka-sama Most"? Ah, there it is.
What to do when bored? Why not read a novel by that cute kouhai I met before~
It seemed Van Gogh had really turned over a new leaf since their last meeting. She had actually finished her previous series as planned, letting villainous Gotham Song become the swan song of her pen. And now, this "legendary light novel master" had launched into something completely new.
Gotham Song skimmed the comments section first—only to find a chorus of wailing.
There were always fans who disliked her, and now they were mourning the loss of their spiritual leader.
Gotham Song only smirked. After a glance, she tapped into the main text.
But after reading the first chapter—her eye twitched.
You Know I Was Once a Legend—that was the title of Van Gogh's new book. And its story?
Something no other author had dared to write.
Twilight Song, reborn. Reborn as who?
None other than… Gotham Song.
...
Van Gogh, you little—!!!
She barely forced herself through the first chapter before quitting. Since she couldn't stomach the new one, maybe she'd revisit the old works to pass time instead…?
But when she clicked on Van Gogh's author page, she froze.
Half the novels she had downloaded on the flight to Paris—the ones she couldn't get into back then—turned out to be written by Van Gogh.
Ah. I see. Guess I really don't have anything left to read. Croak.
Being a character in other people's novels, and a favorite cosplay target besides, really was a strange experience.
Maybe I should sneak into a convention someday and tell people I'm cosplaying Twilight Song myself. Hah…
Leaning against the wall, staring up at the ceiling with a broken expression, Gotham Song let her mind spiral into absurd places.
But her silence didn't last long. The door opened with a creak.
Was it Ardan and the others?
No—it was someone she hadn't seen in days. Manhattan Cafe.
The black-clad Uma Musume peeked her head inside. Once she confirmed Gotham Song was there, she stepped in—with an uncharacteristic touch of shyness.
And in that moment, under Gotham Song's curious gaze, she saw exactly what state her dear Cafe-nee was in.
…Put simply: cool as hell.
A black cowboy hat. Black long coat. Slim black trousers, waistcoat, shirt. She looked like some crime boss walking out of a gangster film—sharp, radiating danger. The only flaw was the empty holster at her hip.
But who cared about props? When Gotham Song saw her sister's cheeks flush under her direct stare, saw her fumble to lower her hat to hide it… nothing else mattered.
Old Bastard No. 1—you're watching, aren't you? This is your doing? This is your "surprise"?
Then all I can say is—it's one hell of a surprise!
Heh, Cafe-nee looks absolutely delicious right now.
She didn't even realize how strange the thought was until she had already stepped forward.
By the time she noticed—she had already seized her sister's wrist, nearly pinning her against the wall—!
"S-Song?"
"Ah—cough, cough. This outfit really suits you, Cafe-nee. You look amazing."
For a moment, the air between them turned awkward. Would Old Bastard No. 1, Sunday Silence, step in to break the tension?
Of course not. Who ever said he was her wingman for life?
No—he was doubled over himself, stifling laughter until it hurt.
Heehee, look at them—so shy, so awkward. This is the best show yet!
Finally, it was Manhattan Cafe herself who broke the silence.
"Song, you look beautiful today too… But I came to call you. It's time to get ready."
Her neck was flushed red. Gotham Song, wisely, said nothing—because she too could feel the heat in her own cheeks. After all, she had just pinned her Cafe-nee to the wall, their faces close enough for each other's breath to touch.
So, dropping the subject, Gotham Song only slipped her hand into Cafe's, letting herself be led forward like a little girl at the side of a mafia boss. Together they stepped toward the waiting stage.
"About the horse girl we all love most this year—surely everyone already knows the answer. Isn't it both a surprise and a blessing? That after losing one miracle, we've gained another—a runner who brings miracles, an Uma Musume we all cherish."
"One who inherited past glory, made it her own, and dyed it with her own color—so let us cry her name aloud! Our beloved, our one and only, at this first and only Ruka Voice of the People—who is this year's most popular Uma Musume?"
"Gotham Song! Gotham Song! Gotham Song!"
The hall was filled with ordinary spectators. But as Gotham Song, led by Cafe's hand, walked forward into the thunderous cheers, her steps faltered.
Gotham Song, huh? Gotham freaking Song. So this is what was waiting for me?!
In that instant, she finally understood. Why Ardan had told her to find the answer herself. Why the hall was decorated with those strange posters of her outfit.
Because it wasn't her. Not really.
The one who had crushed all competition was Twilight Song. The posters weren't new shots of Gotham Song, but retouched old photos—her old Racing Outfit dressed up with a few new touches…!!
Secretariat… damn, you really outdid yourself this time.
So what now?
What the hell—I've become a stand-in?
A stand-in for myself?!
She clicked her tongue softly. Then lifted her chin, and strode to the center of the stage.
So what? She might be a substitute—but in what way did she come second to the original? Even if Twilight Song herself appeared tomorrow, she'd stand with hands on her hips, point to the sky, and declare sovereignty.
Twilight Song? You're the stand-in. You're the challenger.
Perhaps it was her confidence, her composure, that kept anyone from questioning it. Or perhaps no one dared voice what they thought. Either way, the atmosphere remained harmonious as the award proceeded.
This year's Voice of the People—the first and only not to use Secretariat as its emblem, but Twilight Song instead—was remembered forever as the Ruka Voice of the People.
Of course, Twilight Song herself could not come to present the prize. That duty still fell to Secretariat.
But Gotham Song, in her new Racing Outfit, stepping onto the stage—that was met with universal approval.
She was stunning, after all. And she carried so clearly the shadow of the horse girl they all loved most.
Only at the very end, in the random audience Q&A, did something unexpected happen.
A man chosen from the crowd—plainly a fervent Twilight Song fan—walked onstage with a grave, determined expression.
Trouble, Gotham Song thought—and she was right. His question was sharp.
"Miss Gotham Song, congratulations on winning this year's Voice of the People. But I must ask—as Augustus inheriting Caesar's glory, shouldn't you consider more than just turf?"
"We all know Miss Twilight Song was so strong she left historic performances on both dirt and turf. So, in your mature years, will you challenge dirt as well?"
…Eh? Are you saying I'm just a turf-only leftover of Ruka?
Gotham Song blinked, weighing her reply. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Secretariat—Old Bastard No. 2—barely suppressing a laugh.
Tch. If you want to laugh, just laugh. Isn't it exhausting to hold back?
"As for that… I've thought about it. But honestly, dirt isn't my strongest field. Still, if the chance comes, maybe I'll consider it."
"As Augustus, heir to Caesar."