In class, Takahashi Mio was doing the thing she'd done most in her life.
Her senses dulled; the teacher's voice at the lectern slowly morphed into something else—like a lullaby a mother hums to a child.
Her eyes drifted shut without her noticing.
Her head bobbed in time with the teacher's hand gestures, a bit faster than a dragonfly skimming water. The graphite of her mechanical pencil bled a small dark blot onto the page.
Class was one long hypnosis ritual.
For Mio, listening to a lecture had that kind of magic—something a mere recording could never match: the slightly noisy yet mostly quiet room, the teacher's unchanging, droning tone, that strange sense of safety…
Sleep rolled in like a tide; resistance was futile…
Just as she was about to give in, something long and hard jabbed her sharply in the waist.
"!"
In a flash she jolted like she'd been struck by lightning, eyes wide; her slim waist snapped straight, and the pen that had been slipping from her fingers clenched tight again.
Snickers rose behind her.
Face flushing, Mio yanked her eyes back to her book, trying to catch up with the lesson.
Too bad even she didn't know when she'd started to zone out.
She skimmed the page up and down, unsure where her eyes were supposed to land.
Sensing her panic, the bespectacled girl beside her tapped the lower-left corner of the page with her pen…
Mio's eyes lit up. She glanced at the slide on the projector and underlined the key point.
The truth is, once you're an adult, hardly anyone volunteers to help; everyone's busy with their own life.
Even friends mostly want to see you fumble now and then—it spices up the dull daily grind.
The girl beside her was Nagata Nanase; she wasn't being nice—Mio was paying this top student to keep her on task.
And not just to keep watch.
Tutoring, quizzing, taking notes…
Basically a one-on-one private tutor.
The price: ¥100,000 a month.
For Tokyo—where one-on-one tutoring runs about ¥2,000 an hour—that's cheap, especially since it isn't just one subject.
If it didn't take much time each day, and if these were courses she herself was already taking, Nagata wouldn't have agreed. You get what you pay for—Nagata thought so, and so did Mio.
The lure of ¥1,000,000 was just too strong.
So she'd decided to work hard starting this week. She'd even turned down Haruno Rika's invite to hang out.
She had to nail the assignment.
And after paying Nagata, she could still keep ¥200,000 each month.
If she pushed herself this term, she could pay off her loans and stop living a flashy-on-the-surface life while secretly worrying every day about next month's payment.
Mio even found herself hoping Shiratori Kiyoya would give her more tasks.
That way she'd clear her debt without a sweat—and enjoy a carefree vacation, buying whatever she wanted…
As for his talk about a "star dream," she did feel a flutter—but right now it was a castle in the air. No point daydreaming.
Like he said: better to keep your feet on the ground first.
Tap, tap, tap.
"Alright, that's it for today. For homework…"
After a few more pokes from Nagata's pen, the ordeal finally ended.
"Headed to the library to study after this?"
Nagata pushed up her black frames as she packed her books.
"Yeah—but I need to hit the restroom first…"
"Okay, I'll grab our spot."
"Got it."
Mio nodded, gathered her tote, and was just about to leave when a ripple of exclamations rose behind her.
"Eh?!"
"[Friend A] is retiring his pen?"
Mio's ears pricked. She stopped and turned back.
"Who's 'Friend A'?"
"The one who's been writing songs for Hojo Shione—he's announced he's done."
"Huh? Seriously? That's fake, right?"
"Nope, the official Twitter posted it—and both Hojo Shione's account and Friend A's account posted at the same time."
"It's true!"
"…"
Hearing it, Mio frowned without meaning to.
She didn't know when it started, but every time she heard Hojo Shione's name lately, she felt a little irritable.
As Shiratori Kiyoya's current girlfriend, she felt like someone was pressing her head down.
Jealousy or not wasn't the point—she knew she didn't feel that deeply for Kiyoya yet.
She was just annoyed.
Annoyed enough to tear down Shione's posters at home, list that brand-new "same-model" bag on a secondhand app, and stuff the unsold accessories in a suitcase to gather dust…
If only she wasn't Kiyoya's girlfriend, how great that'd be.
That thought had popped up a lot lately.
Then she could still like Shione, and she wouldn't feel crushed when Kiyoya talked about those pie-in-the-sky dreams…
She wished she could go back and not have seen that photo that night…
But even so—she would've found out sooner or later, right?
It felt like invisible hands had shoved her between the two of them.
Biting her lip, Mio took a deep breath and opened her phone.
Whatever the case, she wanted to see what was going on.
On Twitter, Shione's label, Shione's own account, and Friend A's account all posted announcements simultaneously.
Shione and her company's statements were formulaic.
Friend A's was… interesting: reasons like "the well has run dry," "time to chase another dream," and "haven't made enough money yet, but it's just enough to fund the next goal."
Mio scrolled through the cacophony of comments.
"Ah, what a shame—their collaboration's over? Feels like a couple breaking up…"
"Who's gullible enough to think it was two people? It was just a studio/label collab from the start. Otherwise how would the song styles be so wildly different?"
"Right, Shione's concert is coming up—this is hype, yeah?"
"I heard those are the last two songs he left her…"
People were arguing hard over whether "Friend A" was a real person or just a studio brand.
Mio's finger stilled over a comment:
"Without Friend A's songs, will Hojo Shione still stay hot?"
Will she?
The replies were something: "Her vocals are unmatched—she'll make anything a hit," and "Without great songs, even great vocals go to waste."
Mio narrowed her eyes, then—almost against her will—tapped Kiyoya's avatar in the app and typed:
"Did you see that Friend A is retiring his pen?"