Kiyono sat down, his expression and movements as usual—gentle and respectful.
Mrs. Yukinoshita looked at the young man, her gaze complicated. Then she sighed—almost like a young girl—picked up the book on the table, and, with a rare hint of complaint in her voice, said:
"Kiyono, why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"
"I was afraid poor initial sales would disappoint you. Besides, Yukinoshita Haruno ordered me to keep it a secret—she wanted to prepare a surprise for you," Kiyono replied, shifting the blame without hesitation.
"The surprise was so big it nearly turned into a fright…"
The kimono-clad beauty muttered softly. After a moment's thought, her expression softened. She didn't probe further, merely said:
"Kiyono must have worked very hard to write this book. There was no need to rush so much."
She saw his urgency to prove himself. No matter how good relations were, always receiving help would inevitably breed guilt. He was simply too strong-willed and mature in this regard—despite still being a child.
After all, she had watched him grow for so long. His tragic past and present character stirred the maternal, compassionate side of the kimono-clad beauty. Unconsciously, she had truly come to regard the boy as a child of the Yukinoshita family.
"Writing is also one of my hobbies," Kiyono said with a small smile. He neither denied nor feigned modesty—if he didn't give some reason for his success, people would probably treat him like a weirdo.
Silence gradually settled. He looked at Mrs. Yukinoshita's face, hesitated, then spoke slowly:
"By the way, Auntie, I'm about to be a high school student. I'm already an independent adult! So, may I move out on my own? Of course, if you call me, I can always come back…"
Bringing this up right after a success inevitably sounded a bit cocky. Yet he had an inexplicable feeling that if he didn't say it now, he wouldn't get another chance.
However—
"No."
He was rejected.
Without a second's thought.
Feeling Kiyono's and her daughter's odd looks, a blush rose on the elegant beauty's fair cheeks. Her eyes slid away shyly as she lifted a folding fan to cover half her face, hiding her emotions.
How could Kiyono—a treasure heaven-sent to the Yukinoshita family—be allowed to leave so easily?
She knew he repaid kindness, but what if another family noticed him and tried to have him marry into their household?
She still regretted not having endured enough hardship alongside him!
So, she couldn't let him go. Absolutely not.
Wasn't it natural for an adopted son to live at home? No one could criticize that. Forget junior high—staying through high school was perfectly fine!
Kiyono and Yukinoshita Haruno walked side by side along the veranda, the short-haired girl playfully stepping through the moonlight.
Kiyono glanced at her, thought for a moment, and said seriously:
"Yukinoshita Haruno, is there anything I can help you with? Maybe I can't handle it now, but in a few years I should be able to."
He remembered the feeling of his first royalties in his previous world; his first thought had been to treat Yanami to a good meal. This time, he had a family beside him.
That feeling—thinking of the important people first—was exactly the same.
In truth, material wants and money didn't rank high for him. More important than either were his ideals, repaying those who helped him, and improving the lives of those around him.
The Yukinoshita family had cared for him for years without complaint. Even if it could be seen as an "investment," he didn't mind. Now that he had the means, the first thing was to show his attitude. He couldn't promise to be tied down for life, but repaying them for half a lifetime was no problem.
Starting down the path of literature early had included this consideration—he couldn't keep accepting kindness with an easy conscience.
"Hoho, little brother—your mind and your body have truly become those of a man. You're already thinking about helping your big sister."
Haruno paused, ripples flickering through her bright indigo eyes. How much of her initial kindness had been genuine and how much performative, even she no longer knew. It certainly wasn't a pure feeling. Yet now, seeing Kiyono's simple affection—thinking of her as soon as he earned money—her heart filled with mingled guilt and complexity.
Sometimes she felt like a dark, terrible woman; after watching Kiyono succeed again and again, besides joy and pride, her first thought had been how to use that new status.
She had even wondered if she should change how she treated him.
But today he was gentler than usual, his attitude softer. That upright spirit suddenly made her feel she didn't need to overthink. Being as they always were would be fine.
A mischievous curl touched her lips:
"If my request conflicts with Yukino's, who would you choose to help, little brother?"
An ordinary boy might have stammered and floundered, but the stalwart warrior of pure love merely smiled.
"I believe the kind Sister Haruno would never put her younger siblings in a difficult spot."
"You smooth-tongued brat, hmph."
July 7.
It was Yukinoshita Haruno's birthday, as beautiful as most girls imagine: a princess-like white gown, a tiny silver crown, an exquisite cake before her. She was the star of the banquet, the prince would present glass slippers, and everyone would lavish sincere praise.
If only it were sincere…
Cicadas chirped noisily in the courtyard.
It was late. In the dark, Haruno sank into the soft bed, one arm over her forehead, silently feeling the fatigue in her body.
The scenes from earlier replayed frame by frame. Today was her eighteenth birthday. Her mother had thrown a lavish banquet, as if announcing a certain signal to others. Aware of her age, the young men had grown more eager—and more direct.
Though she handled them deftly, exhaustion remained.
Most importantly—
"I argued with that person again."
As if remembering something amusing, a mischievous smile—one she would never show outsiders—curved the lips of the perfectly mannered young lady.
If some truths remained unrecognized, she could still pretend nothing existed. But once a hairline crack appeared, it could only spread.
Today, her mother had given her a gift—impeccable, exquisite, fitting for a parent. But that had been at the banquet, before everyone.
After returning home, she had casually asked, "Was that from the Yukinoshita family, or from a mother?"
The woman had only sighed.
It brought back to Haruno the world she lived in, and a vague bewilderment filled her heart.
If this was a true simulation, shouldn't she do as she wished and live the life she desired? Why was she still following her mother's plan step by step? What was she expecting from that person?
Her long, dense lashes quivered. Just then—
Knock, knock, knock.
Haruno snapped to attention and teased, "Who is it?"
"Santa Claus," came a theatrical voice from the hallway.
A string of colored lights seemed to flicker on deep in her heart. Haruno rubbed her cheeks and, smiling broadly, slid open the door. Waiting there was her big-writer little brother.
"I hope Santa brings me a handsome, sexy fiancé! Gentle and doting, completely obedient to me, and a literary giant who'll go down in history!" She clasped her hands and closed her eyes in a wish.
"Don't make such high demands of a rookie Santa!"
Kiyono stood at the threshold, unable to resist a complaint, his right hand clenched tight.
Haruno opened her eyes, one hand on her hip. Her gaze flicked—subtly—to his right hand. She snorted. "So you came to your sister's room empty-handed?"
"…And with good wishes."
Kiyono cleared his throat, met her eyes, and offered a bright smile.
"Um—happy birthday, Yukinoshita Haruno."
Haruno blinked, then stepped forward and seized his wrist.
"Come with me."
Tap, tap—tap, tap. Barefoot, the short-haired girl led him to the veranda facing the garden.
A summer breeze brought a cool, refreshing scent.
The cicadas' chorus felt almost lighthearted.
The lovely moon shimmered on the rippling pond—and in the girl's pupils.
Haruno stopped. In the cool moonlight, Kiyono noticed she was wearing a yukata: dark blue like the night sky, rippled with water patterns, red goldfish swimming across the fabric, a black obi lending mature elegance—very much her style.
Kiyono looked at her—hair pinned up—and for a moment it felt as if she had suddenly grown.
"Why bring me here specifically?" he asked.
She stepped close, rose on her toes, and, in an unusually gentle voice, said:
"Because you must have a gift for me, right? I'm a girl too—I want to receive it somewhere more romantic."
Her voice held extra warmth; her eyes beneath the moon were liquid and captivating; her face shone pure and bright as the Moon Goddess.
I see.
Kiyono's gaze flickered—perhaps a little embarrassed. At last, he took a deep breath, extended his tightly clenched fist, and opened it.
Clink. A delicate silver necklace unfurled and slipped from his hand. The panda charm bobbed, reflecting a dazzling silvery light—like the moon itself—under Haruno's amazed gaze.
She reached out, dazed, to catch it, the cool weight settling in her palm. She tilted her head. "A necklace?"
Suddenly, she remembered something she'd said before—
"Ah, this panda necklace is cute too. I want it."
Her eyes widened, bit by bit.
She looked down at the necklace in her palm.
—Crash. A clear chime rang in her heart.
Like glass reflecting myriad shards of light, the world sparkled.
A strange emotion burst within her.
So… that's how it is?
A sentence she herself had long forgotten—this idiot had remembered until now.
Her fingers curled slightly. Heat rose to her cheeks. This was her younger brother—three years her junior! Or… even more.
Ah, ah—seriously. Whatever.
"Kiyono, will you put it on me?" Her brows lifted; the corners of her eyes smiled.
"You can put it on yourself…"
"Today is your big sister's birthday, you know."
In attire and attitude, Haruno was thoroughly, disarmingly feminine.
That settled it. Kiyono picked up the panda charm, trying not to look at her graceful, fair neck and ears. The sweet, intoxicating fragrance she had carefully chosen made his heart pound; his fingers trembled as he slowly fastened the clasp.
"Does it look good?"
The short-haired girl stepped back two paces and revealed the most dazzling smile she had shown so far—
Bright as the beautiful summer night.
Autumn passed; winter came. Winter passed; spring returned. Days rose and set.
Three years of junior high were quietly tucked into the treasure chest called memory.
Then, the blooming cherry blossoms brought new encounters.
Today was entrance day for Japanese high school students.
And at that very moment—
Far away in another world, a voice suddenly sounded in Yanami's ear:
"—Activation conditions met. Do you wish to enter the simulation?"
—
In the utterly dark room, a pair of arms, pale as snow-white lotus roots, reached out and—whoosh—drew back a corner of the curtains. Bright moonlight spilled in, washing over sky-blue hair and a delicate face.