By Wednesday, Kasumigaoka Utaha finally got word on the official release date of her novel:
It was set for Friday.
Friday was indeed a good day—students would begin their weekend, and anyone who liked reading would likely pick up a novel or two to get through it. The fact that Machida Sonoko had pushed successfully for this date was evidence of her high expectations for Utaha's novel.
And, in fact, Utaha's writing was undeniably good. Her prose was smooth and her story compelling—good enough to captivate readers. With such strong writing, she could easily turn casual readers into dedicated fans.
But on Friday, the novel's sales turned out to be… discouraging.
From ten in the morning—when it went on sale—until evening, very few copies were sold. Shichen asked the bookstore staff, who told him only two copies had been sold all day. It was obviously dismal.
Granted, as a newly debuted author, it wasn't unusual to have weak sales on the first day. Readers are often reluctant to try brand-new authors, especially one with an unusual title like Love Metronome. The current trend was long, straightforward light-novel titles, while hers was short and abstract.
All the talk of "it's normal for a newbie" might reassure outsiders, but for Utaha—pouring her whole heart into this project, brimming with confidence—the outcome was devastating. She'd been on edge the night before, unable to sleep, yet she'd still harbored high hopes. Seeing her first day's numbers dashed them cruelly.
She and Shichen stayed in the bookstore until 7 p.m. and only saw two more copies sold, both purchased hesitantly. In other words, the entire day yielded only four sales total—deeply disappointing for Utaha.
Even if Shichen assured her that "the first day can be tough," "maybe the upcoming days would bring more sales," or "this is how things often go," it gave her no comfort. How could she not hope her beloved, painstaking work would take off?
…
Over the next few days, Utaha didn't visit the café at all, too downcast. On Sunday, just before closing time, she finally appeared, looking utterly dejected.
Tohru and Chisato tactfully headed upstairs, as both of them had a basic idea what was going on.
Utaha entered the café without a word and went straight to her usual seat, slumping face-first onto the table.
Shichen poured her a glass of juice and brought it over. Sitting across from her, he offered her the drink. "Have you had dinner?" he asked quietly.
Utaha stared blankly at the glass, not responding.
She was clearly in a bad way.
Shichen sighed inwardly. He'd visited the bookstore a few times himself; the situation was undeniably bleak. Over the past few days, total sales for Love Metronome had just barely passed a hundred copies—a catastrophic outcome. With numbers like that, the publisher might axe the novel altogether.
And in fact, that was precisely the news Utaha had received from Machida Sonoko today: they were looking at pulling the plug on the novel early. She'd spent half the day at home in a daze before she finally came to find Shichen.
Seeing Utaha looking so crushed made Shichen's heartache. He boldly reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were long and slender, soft to the touch, yet cool despite the mild May weather.
He clasped her hands between his own, trying to impart some warmth.
Utaha slowly raised her gaze, glancing at their joined hands. She didn't resist in any way.
"Tell me what happened," Shichen said gently.
"Mm…"
Utaha lifted her head, meeting his eyes. Her lips parted, and she spoke softly, "Editor Machida told me that if sales don't pick up soon, Love Metronome will end at Volume Three."
"They're cutting it short, then?" Shichen pressed his lips together.
"That's right."
"How do you feel about that?" he asked, noting the bleakness in her eyes.
"I don't want it to end," Utaha said, shaking her head.
"Weren't you only ever planning for one volume's worth of story? Isn't three volumes enough?"
"Don't joke around…" Utaha glowered at him. "I've got plans for so much more content—three volumes isn't nearly enough. I don't want my novel to end abruptly. I want to do right by the characters I created." She tightened her grip on Shichen's hand, voice unwavering.
Her eyes no longer looked lifeless, brimming instead with determination. She had clearly grown to love writing, and there was no way Shichen wouldn't support her.
"So you want to keep writing?" he asked, a seriousness to his tone.
"Yes!" she nodded vigorously.
"All right." Shichen smiled and nodded. "I'll help you."
"Help me?" she repeated in confusion.
"What else?" He squeezed her hands reassuringly. "Your novel is great, and I don't want it to end so soon. I want to read the complete story, too."
"That's it?" Utaha frowned.
"What else would it be?" Shichen asked with a grin.
"How should I know!" she snapped, rolling her eyes.
"Heh heh~ Anyway, you go ahead and keep working on Volume Two for now. Let's see how things shake out. If the reading public still doesn't appreciate it, I'll take care of it."
Utaha's laptop was still at the café, so she'd been unable to do any writing these past few days.
"How exactly do you plan to 'take care of it?'"
"I'll make sure more people hear about your novel."
"Hmm?"
…
A few days later, the sales for Love Metronome were still flat, so the publisher officially decided to axe the series early. They'd printed quite a few copies, but barely any sold. For them, that was a money-losing proposition.
Even if Utaha grudgingly agreed to end the story in three volumes, the publisher wouldn't hold out much hope for any future work she submitted. As far as they were concerned, her "commercial value" was low.
Publishers just want profit. They don't care about an author's "dreams." If you can't pull in good sales, they don't see any point in investing in you.
So, if Utaha's initial launch failed, she'd face tough odds next time, and might just lose heart altogether. She still had plenty of pathways open academically—she excelled in school. But Shichen wasn't about to let her give up on her newfound passion.
That's why he was there, after all. He had a sense that helping her might be the real reason he got to travel through these "2D" worlds. Becoming a God? That was just some nebulous side goal. What he really enjoyed was meeting and supporting people like Utaha.
Although the novel's early ending was decided, Utaha didn't sink into despair again. Mysteriously enough, she seemed to trust Shichen's promise. Still, the past few days, she couldn't bring herself to do any writing. Yet she spent all her free time—outside of going home to sleep—in the café, eating breakfast and dinner there. It was almost as if she'd moved in already, perhaps only one step away from officially doing so.
She was, however, curious that Shichen hadn't visibly "done anything." Mornings, they had breakfast together, he helped at the café (though Tohru and Chisato handled most tasks anyway), and she'd watch him lounge around. He never seemed to do anything specific to aid her…or at least not when she was around.
Truth was, once the café closed at night, Shichen would stay up late working on Utaha's behalf. Tohru and Chisato complained he came to bed so late, but he had to keep going.
He wasn't pulling off any big supernatural feats—just using the internet. He found circles in the otaku community and approached influential people, recommending Love Metronome. That circle was deeply supportive of new authors and hated seeing good works go to waste.
Eventually, in response to his insistent praise, some big-name commentators actually read Utaha's novel and loved it enough to vouch for it. Their enthusiastic reviews triggered a small wave of interest. Over a few days, sales started picking up—though it still needed time to ferment further. Shichen personally had no real influence, so he enlisted multiple folks with strong followings, effectively crowd-sourcing the hype.
He'd asked Utaha once or twice about "that famous person" from her school, but apparently she had no idea who he was talking about. Which felt off. Such a big name…someone like that, surely even a reclusive student writer would've heard of. Unless that individual didn't exist in this version of reality. Then what about the golden-haired tsundere? Shichen didn't want to push too far. If she did exist, Utaha might grow suspicious as to how he knew about her.
Anyway, time would tell. Once the dust settled with Utaha's novel, it would be the perfect chance to find out more. The one-month mark was fast approaching, after all.
~~~
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