Time passed quickly, and July thirty-first finally arrived.
Minamoto Senya had been ready since early in the morning, wearing the suit that Utaha Kasumigaoka had specially bought for him.
While he was adjusting it, Toka, who had learned that he needed to appear at a formal occasion, forcibly straightened his hair and made sure his outfit matched properly.
Once everything was in place, Senya left the house and headed straight to the Kasumigaoka residence to pick up the evening's main heroine.
Utaha herself had been looking forward to this day, and the fact that Senya had come to fetch her in person filled her with joy.
She had originally assumed they would simply meet at the venue.
Who could have expected him to act so much like a gentleman?
For her, it was an unexpected delight.
Honestly, right now, even if people mistook us for a real couple, it wouldn't feel the least bit strange… she thought, barely able to contain her happiness.
"Ah—!"
"You okay?"
At the front gate, where the stairs dipped slightly, Utaha—who had walked this way countless times over the years—suddenly gave a little yelp.
She stumbled, her balance thrown off by her "careless misstep."
Senya reacted instantly, reaching out and catching her by the arm.
Leaning against his chest for support, Utaha slowly straightened, lifted her head, and looked up at him with moist, tender eyes.
"Sorry… I'm not used to walking in heels. Thank you, Senya."
"So long as you're fine."
Their eyes met, and for a moment the atmosphere between them turned impossibly romantic, like a perfect match arranged by fate.
Then, suddenly, there was a loud creak creak from nearby.
What on earth…?
Still supporting Utaha, Senya turned his head, searching for the source of the sound.
Mrs. Kasumigaoka quickly shoved her scowling husband back inside the house, closed the front door, and—with a bright smile—called out to them.
"Utaha, remember to be polite while you're out. And Senya-kun, thank you for looking after her today. Make sure you two enjoy yourselves!"
"I will, Mom."
"Then, Auntie, we'll get going," Senya said politely.
"Go, go! Be careful on the way~"
After exchanging farewells with Mrs. Kasumigaoka, the two of them took a taxi straight to the villa estate in Meguro where the evening's banquet would be held.
It turned out to be a commercialized venue specifically rented out for parties and receptions.
At the entrance, Senya noticed a sign etched with contact information for event bookings.
Passing through the front gates, the villa loomed ahead, imposing and designed in a distinctly British style.
A brick path of dark red stone wound through neatly trimmed greenery and well-arranged flowerbeds.
Near the banquet hall entrance, security staff checked invitations and maintained order.
The place was bustling, but the professionalism was obvious.
"According to Machida-san," Utaha leaned close to whisper by his ear, her soft fragrance drifting toward him, "this banquet isn't just for people from the light novel industry. They've also invited prominent figures from traditional literature and even representatives of major financial groups. That's why security is stricter than usual."
Senya gave a silent nod of understanding.
Together, they stepped inside.
The interior was vast, with part of the second floor opened up to create space. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the center, glittering overhead.
From the rear staircase one could ascend to the second floor, where many rooms were laid out, and a balcony corridor looked down over the hall.
The moment Utaha appeared, the very editor she had mentioned earlier hurried over with a delighted smile.
"Welcome, welcome, Kasumi-sensei!"
But when her eyes shifted to the young man at Utaha's side, surprise lit her face.
"Wait—isn't that the Dragon of the Empire?"
It was thanks to Senya that Kasumi-sensei's Love Metronome had been resurrected from near cancellation.
Indirectly, he had even helped the editor's own career.
Of course she remembered him.
And it wasn't that she meant to tease him with such a title—the simple truth was that, compared to his actual name, the bold nickname had been far more widely circulated in media recently. It had left the deeper impression.
Senya didn't mind. He offered a polite, good-humored smile.
Utaha quickly performed the introductions. "Senya, this is Machida Enko, my editor. She's given me an incredible amount of support in my writing. Machida-san, this is Minamoto Senya—you hardly need me to explain further, do you?"
"No, no, certainly not. But… the two of you, so close already? Becoming friends like this—how wonderful!"
Machida eyed the matching tones of their suit and dress, noting that Utaha had chosen not to bring her parents, but this boy instead. Her imagination didn't need much prompting.
Young people should be like this, after all.
Senya noticed the lack of stiff professionalism between Utaha and her editor—it was an easy, friendly rapport. So he, too, relaxed and joined in with casual friendliness.
"So, when you said no introduction was needed… does that mean Utaha has mentioned me to you before, Machida-san?"
Uwah. Calling her "Utaha" so casually, right in front of others. That wasn't just familiarity—that was intimacy. Definitely more than once, too.
Machida swallowed her amused "auntie smile" and admitted honestly, "Yes, she has. More than once, actually. After all, in Kasumi-sensei's heart, you're the one who pulled her out of the dark. Her savior."
"…Huh."
Senya blinked in surprise. He'd expected Machida to downplay or deny things out of consideration for Utaha's pride as a girl. Instead, she'd said it plainly.
He turned his gaze toward Utaha herself.
Her face was flushed pink, her head lowered, every inch the picture of shy embarrassment.
Yet when she felt his eyes on her, she didn't dodge. She raised her gaze and met his directly, blinking softly.
That was Utaha's biggest difference from the other girls around Senya.
She didn't always hide her feelings.
Even if her heart trembled, even if her thoughts boiled like water, she would still reveal her emotions honestly when the time was right.
That was her way of "fighting."
"Sorry, I'm busy with hosting duties right now," Machida excused herself with a smile. "But later, let's catch up. In the meantime, please enjoy the food and drinks freely."
She departed quickly to tend to other authors, leaving the two of them with a subtle shift in mood.
Their atmosphere had grown more delicate, more charged.
Still, there was no time to linger in it.
As Kasumi-sensei, Utaha's Love Metronome had gained notable traction in the light novel market. Surrounded by industry insiders, it wasn't long before people approached her to talk.
And with her came Senya.
Thanks to his presence in both kendo and piano circles, his brief appearance in sports advertising, and his striking good looks, he was quickly recognized.
Especially by women.
First it was one excited girl who came up to chat.
Then, a few other young girls who had come with their families spotted him and hurried over, eyes shining.
Before long, he was encircled by a small flock of eager female admirers.
Some wanted his contact information. Some asked how he maintained such strict self-discipline. One bold older woman even lingered during a handshake, fingers brushing meaningfully against his palm, her gaze heavy with implication.
The chatter swelled, lively and distracting.
Utaha hadn't anticipated this. The opportunity she'd orchestrated for just the two of them had been utterly derailed by Senya's own magnetism.
It wasn't a development she welcomed.
"There's a piano here in the hall. Senya-kun, would you play something for us?" someone suggested.
A chorus of agreement followed immediately.
"Sorry!"
The word didn't come from Senya. It came from Utaha, who had endured in silence until now and could take no more.
"We have other matters to attend to, so please excuse us."
In full view of everyone, she seized Senya's arm, lifted her chin, and swept him out of the circle.
———
"Honestly. Didn't Machida-san say tonight's guests were mostly prominent figures from the industry? Why on earth are they all acting so shameless?"
Away from the crowd, Utaha vented her irritation.
Senya nearly remarked that restraint was a matter of personal upbringing, not fame or status—but decided that was too blunt.
Instead, he offered her a simple, heartfelt, "Thanks."
Only then did Utaha realize she was still clinging to his arm. She released him quickly, flustered.
"Sorry. I acted without thinking. Those were your fans, after all, and I just dragged you away like that."
"It's fine. Honestly, I was feeling a little uncomfortable myself. You saved me."
Not all of them had been genuine fans, anyway.
Senya raised his hand, showing her a small slip of paper with a phone number scrawled on it.
One of those women had slipped it into his palm.
I'm only a middle school second-year. Isn't this, like, a crime?
In front of Utaha, he crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it in the nearest bin.
"If not for me, you wouldn't be dealing with this."
"Don't say that. I just spotted a few celebrities and authors I recognized—maybe I'll get the chance to chat with them thanks to you. That's a blessing in disguise."
"Still, it was trouble for you. Tell you what—after this, I'll treat you to dinner, as an apology."
Utaha's words carried the tone of regret, but in truth she was slyly turning a problem into an opportunity.
If a certain twin-tailed girl had been present, she'd probably have snorted and called it out immediately.
Senya just shrugged, saying nothing more.
By then, Machida was approaching again, accompanied by two men.
"Kasumi-sensei, allow me to introduce—this is the chief editor of Fantastic Bunko, and this is our publishing manager."
This was serious business—networking with the higher-ups.
Utaha immediately put on her gentle, professional smile, while Senya stood by, quiet and cooperative.
———
By six o'clock, the sun was fading, the heat was ebbing, and the garden's preset lights flicked on.
The villa's hall opened onto the lawn, and together they formed the venue for the evening.
Once everyone had gathered, the banquet's formalities began.
Publishing executives took the stage, thanking attendees for coming, reviewing the year's results, and honoring outstanding employees and authors.
It was, essentially, a belated annual meeting.
Senya didn't pay much attention until Utaha's name was called.
Her novel won the "Most Popular Work" award. She walked to the stage, delivered a brief speech, and bowed.
Smiling, Senya applauded from below, his eyes following her.
She had grown. Her writing had leveled up—from LV5 when they first met, to LV6 now.
When she returned to his side, her nerves betrayed her. "How was I just now?"
Senya simply raised a thumb in approval.
Afterward, several famous authors gave talks on modern literature and its future direction.
"Isn't that guy in white the one who got exposed a few years back? Married, but still cheating with multiple lovers? And yet he's invited here?"
"Well, his works have been nominated for the Akutagawa Prize and even the Nobel Prize. Readers love him. So what if he's a little loose?"
"Big-name writers have it good, huh? Even that can be forgiven."
"When someone's that talented, society naturally overlooks more…"
The people nearby whispered among themselves.
Senya kept his eyes fixed on the stage.
From an observer's perspective, though, it was clear that Utaha glanced sideways at the speakers.
She'd heard them.
But after one glance, she withdrew, her expression unreadable.
Senya was tempted to ask her thoughts—to know her opinion of that kind of situation.
But in the end, he held back.
It would have felt too deliberate.
Utaha wasn't Rikka. She was sharp.
If he asked now, she'd eventually connect the dots someday.
By seven, live music had begun. A singer performed, and the mood grew lighter.
With Utaha's arm entwined around his, Senya stepped out from the hall onto the lawn.
After her speech earlier, she had once again used her heels as an excuse to reveal how tired her calves felt.
Naturally, she accepted his support.
Now, she could cling to him without hesitation.
Outdoors, elegant dishes and even open-air BBQ stations awaited.
They chose a good spot where a swing chair stood.
"Sit here and wait," Senya told her, before heading to the restroom.
The sound of his stream was so powerful it startled the three men at the urinals beside him.
One even stole a glance as he left, eyes widening in shock.
While washing his hands, Senya recalled the earlier conversation—about talent buying forgiveness.
Faces flickered through his mind.
He gave a wry smile.
If only things were that simple… Those girls aren't so easy to placate.
Huh?!
As he walked back, without warning he suddenly sidestepped sharply.
A small object fell exactly where he had just been.
A… hair tie?
He looked up.
On the villa's second-floor balcony stood a blonde, elegant woman, gazing at him in surprise, her beautiful eyes blinking curiously.