Nothing was more terrifying than sudden silence.
Well, perhaps one thing was—being at a complete loss for how to break it.
Gotham Song raised an eyebrow slightly, taking a deep breath to steady herself and regain full clarity.
Meanwhile, Van Gogh's mind had utterly short-circuited. She stood frozen in place, like a turkey about to plummet into the oven, feathers already plucked clean.
Her jet-black hair shimmered faintly with the amber glow of dusk, yet the cool, sharp features that normally gave her an elegant and intimidating charm now showed only complete, undisguised stupidity.
How else could one describe it?
Right before Gotham Song's eyes, in this very instant, the Uma Musume known as Van Gogh had completely and irreversibly died.
Her dignity and mental state had withered into dust—a fragile heap that would vanish at the slightest touch.
Now, what exactly were Gotham Song's options in this delicate situation?
One: Pretend ignorance and smoothly skip past this embarrassing revelation.
Two: Press further, acknowledging that such youthful admiration was something every young filly experienced at some point, wasn't it?
Gotham Song deeply understood these kinds of feelings—after all, she herself had gone through similar emotions before. Given Van Gogh's nature as a Great Escape idiot who'd repeatedly displayed her adoration for Twilight Song, Gotham Song was confident she could grasp at least some part of the girl's emotional turmoil.
Besides, Gotham Song had clearly noticed the video Van Gogh switched back to moments ago—a replay of her own legendary Arc run as Twilight Song.
That's precisely why she had whispered earlier, "You'll get to run alongside Twilight Song in the Arc," directly into Van Gogh's frozen ear.
Treatment tailored to the condition, indeed.
After some thought, Gotham Song decided it best to be straightforward. Not to interrogate Van Gogh about the title of her novel, of course, but to simply confirm if she was indeed writing something—that much shouldn't be too difficult to admit, right?
For some reason, Gotham Song instinctively felt that Van Gogh's book probably had a suspiciously strong connection to her own life. If that was indeed true, then surely she had the right to inquire a little, didn't she?
"You mean, Van Gogh… You're writing something like a Uma Musume light novel featuring Twilight Song?"
Ah, speaking of which, Gotham Song recalled the flight to Paris, when she'd downloaded a bunch of popular light novels from this world to pass the time.
Yet, after downloading almost every bestselling title available, she'd ended up bored the entire flight.
Why?
Because every single top-ranking novel had shamelessly used "Twilight Song" to stir up buzz or as a romantic partner in ridiculous harem scenarios.
As the actual horse girl herself, Gotham Song simply couldn't endure such embarrassing nonsense. What was so interesting about that anyway?
Imagining herself playing teacher, rival, nemesis—or even wife—to a crowd of anonymous fillies, many of whom were clearly author self-inserts?
Eww, no thanks. Gotham Song certainly had no such bizarre interests.
"Ah—I, um… haha…" Van Gogh's eyes nervously darted away, clearly eager to flee, but Gotham Song wasn't about to let her escape.
So what if there was a height difference? Victory always favored those who seized initiative, right?
In one swift movement, Gotham Song lunged forward, firmly gripping Van Gogh's shoulders and pinning one knee on the chair she sat upon, bringing their faces dangerously close.
Caught off guard, Van Gogh—sitting helplessly on the wheeled gaming chair—had no chance to resist. Together, they rolled forward slightly with a gentle squeak, accompanied by the sound of Van Gogh's rapidly crumbling sanity.
What exactly did Van Gogh see?
She saw her goddess, the Uma Musume she'd dreamed of countless times—someone who might differ from historical records but who still stirred an undeniable conviction in her heart.
Even if the girl before her called herself Gotham Song…
Even if she herself vehemently denied it… did that really mean she couldn't possibly be Twilight Song?
Aside from that legendary goddess of the Great Escape, who else could unleash such powerful strides on the track? Who else could ignite a Zone that radiant?
Gotham Song—was she truly a horse girl without a Great Escape soul?
Perhaps the one lacking that Great Escape soul is actually me, Van Gogh suddenly thought in despair.
"Y-yes, I'm writing a Uma Musume novel and, um—I'm really sorry, Gotham Song-san!"
Van Gogh's abrupt apology left Gotham Song momentarily baffled. Hmm… Was she apologizing for obsessing over me through her characters? Or apologizing for things done in her novel to Twilight Song?
But if you're apologizing to Twilight Song, why are you addressing me, Gotham Song? You didn't seriously confuse me with 'myself,' did you?
I haven't even admitted it yet!
"I-I shouldn't have written you as the villain in my book..."
"Oh, is that it? You wrote me as a… Wait, wrote me as what?"
Gotham Song raised an eyebrow. At this point, she had no idea how to describe the astounding imagination hiding inside this filly's head.
Are you seriously telling me that in your novel, Gotham Song is actually the big bad villain? Hey, you're kind of a genius.
Under Gotham Song's silent, piercing gaze, Van Gogh shakily reopened the document, scrolling up a few chapters.
"Gotham Song? You dare call yourself a Great Escape horse girl? A creature with no Great Escape soul!"
Van Gogh's face turned scarlet as Gotham Song softly read those final words aloud.
As the writer behind those very words, Van Gogh now felt more embarrassed and restless than ever before.
Gotham Song, meanwhile, felt oddly amused. Although she was only reading words, wasn't this practically a second life—one experienced by fictional characters and those who immersed themselves in their stories?
But this particular second life was just absurd, from her outsider perspective.
Because…
Who exactly was the one insulting Gotham Song so harshly?
It was none other than "Twilight Song," who had taken over the novel's protagonist.
Twilight Song calling Gotham Song a worthless creature without a Great Escape soul?
It was as absurd as if Shakespeare himself had just insulted someone's writing skills.
No wonder Van Gogh had refused to leave her room the whole day. She was likely suffering from total writer's block, desperately unsure how to continue.
It was hilarious yet utterly ridiculous.
But Gotham Song honestly didn't feel particularly angry. After all, Van Gogh was just a young filly—she hadn't done anything that extreme, right?
Her eyes drifted to the document's corner, glimpsing Van Gogh's pen name clearly:
"I Really Love You, Ruka-sama!" …It looked vaguely familiar.
Yet Gotham Song didn't dwell on this minor detail. She certainly wouldn't say anything that might make Van Gogh spontaneously combust.
Frankly, she was simply intrigued. The novel's "Gotham Song" might share her name, but would she ever really act like that?
Even if Gotham Song lost her body and ended up as a spirit haunting Van Gogh, she certainly wouldn't have said something that absurd to Phantom Ruka.
The thought alone was too strange.
Rather than becoming angry, Gotham Song leaned back, calmly leaving Van Gogh's personal space and returning to her seat.
"Alright then, Van Gogh. Tell me—how exactly should I react to how you've depicted me in your story?"
"I-I don't know! But I promise, I'll never write like that again! Please forgive me, Gotham Song-san! I'll do anything!"
This situation somehow feels disturbingly familiar. Gotham Song's eyebrow twitched slightly.
What exactly had she joked about last time? Something about British fillies arriving before American fillies?
This is getting difficult!
Truthfully, Gotham Song hadn't minded much from the start. She'd just been gauging Van Gogh's attitude. Clearly, she'd pushed a little too far.
"Relax, relax. I'm not angry. I'm just a little… surprised, honestly? It's my first time seeing myself appear in a novel, after all."
Van Gogh's ears perked slightly, utterly confused. The hostility she'd shown toward Gotham Song was blatantly obvious; she'd even been mentally preparing herself for a sincere, Japanese-style kneeling apology.
Yet the outcome was totally beyond her small brain's ability to process.
"So, um… Gotham-sama, you're really not angry?"
"Angry? Why should I be? Just because you wrote me as the villain?"
Gotham Song smiled gently, which in Van Gogh's eyes looked like the scariest thing she'd ever seen.
She's smiling… She's actually smiling!
Van Gogh couldn't help trembling.
"Relax, I really don't intend to punish you. Honestly, seeing my own name in a novel is pretty amusing. I'm truly not angry—not even a little."
"R-Really? I'm sorry, but I just can't believe it..."
Seeing Van Gogh so anxious and fragile, Gotham Song patted the bed gently. Van Gogh obediently sat beside her.
"Honestly, there's no need to worry. It's a strange feeling, but as a reader and outsider, I shouldn't reject you for your creations. Instead, shouldn't I look forward to seeing what new meaning you give to the name Gotham Song?"
Gotham Song paused thoughtfully, then softly shifted her voice again to Twilight Song's ethereal tone:
"You still have a long journey ahead. If you truly want to prove your Great Escape soul, then live in a way worthy of your own name."
"Write your own legend, just as I did."
Then, giving the stunned Van Gogh a playful wink, Gotham Song smiled warmly.
After all, wasn't guiding and forgiving the young ones who admired her exactly what a senior Uma Musume should do?