The late afternoon sun bled through the tall windows of Toyonosaki Academy, painting the linoleum hallways in long, amber streaks of light. After the final bell, most students scattered toward the sports fields or headed home in chattering groups, but Leo Vance had a very specific destination.
He'd done his homework. Before even stepping foot on campus, Leo had used his skills to dig into the school's power players. In a place like this, "power" didn't come from a student council title; it came from talent.
There were two names at the top of the list.
First was Eriri Sawamura. The school's golden girl, the ace of the art club, and—secretly—one of the most famous doujinshi artists in the scene. She was a "special talent" admit, just like Leo's new cover identity. They both had early-admission tickets to the Tokyo University of the Arts, meaning they were essentially just idling their engines until graduation.
The second name was the one currently on his radar: Kasumigaoka Utaha.
Utaha was the undisputed queen of the Literature Club. She'd won more writing awards than most people had participation trophies and had already secured a spot at Waseda University. More importantly, she was the writer for Koisuru Metronome, a novel that had actually made Leo feel something back in his world. She was the final piece he needed for his "Obsolescence Project."
Leo arrived at the Literature Club's room—a repurposed classroom on the quiet side of the building—with his laptop bag slung over one shoulder. The door was propped open, letting out the scent of old paper and the faint, citrusy tang of a high-end air freshener.
Leo leaned against the doorframe and gave a sharp, confident double-knock. Standing at six-foot-plus with his broad shoulders and new "Alpha" frame, he basically blocked out the sun for whoever was inside.
A girl with a bright, sunny expression and hair tied back in a neat ponytail hurried to the door. She looked up at him, blinked, and then gave a polite little bow.
"Hey there! Can I help you with something, classmate?" she asked, her voice cheerful.
Leo didn't waste time with small talk. "I'm here to join the club."
The girl tilted her head, her eyes scanning him with curiosity. "Usually, we're done with recruitment for the semester, and we have a bit of a vetting process. We'd need to give you a small entrance test. Is that okay?"
Leo felt a flicker of hesitation. He knew his way around a plot, but Japanese literary nuance was a different beast. "Look, I'm an exchange student. I just got here from the States. My Japanese is solid, but if you're looking for a deep dive into Heian-period poetry, I might be wasting your time."
He turned to leave, but before he could take a step, a hand caught his sleeve. He looked down to see the girl smiling, her grip surprisingly firm.
"Don't be like that! Everyone has the right to chase their muse, right? Art doesn't care about your passport," she said, her eyes twinkling.
"Don't you guys have a high bar for entry?" Leo asked, raising an eyebrow.
"For locals? Sure. But for a 'global talent'? We can curve the grade a bit," she teased. "By the way... you're American, right?"
Leo gave a short, dry laugh. "Was it the name or the height that gave it away?"
"Neither, actually. It's your Japanese," she said, stepping back and gesturing for him to come in. "It's way too perfect. You sound like a professional voice actor doing a dub for a movie. It's a bit uncanny. If you were, say, German or Korean, there'd be more of a struggle with the vowels. But you? You sound like you're reading from a script. It's actually pretty hot, in a weird way."
Leo nodded, making a mental note. Damn NZT. I over-corrected. He'd spent so much time optimizing his pronunciation that he'd scrubbed out the "human" element of speech.
"I'll work on sounding more like a slob," he joked.
"Please don't. I like it," she replied, leading him into the room. "The doorway isn't the place for a pitch. Come on in."
The clubroom was massive. One side was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, groaning under the weight of classics and light novels. In the center, a few students were huddled over manuscripts, debating something with hushed, frantic energy.
And then there was the corner.
Kasumigaoka Utaha was slumped in a chair, her long, raven hair spilling over her shoulders like a silk curtain. She was staring at a laptop screen, her fingers dancing across the keys.
Leo's internal monologue kicked in, analyzing her like a piece of code. She's beautiful. Seriously beautiful. In the real world, a girl like that would be a once-in-a-generation celebrity. In this anime world, it seemed like "perfect" was the baseline. If he hadn't taken the System's "reforging," he would have looked like a background character standing next to her.
He noticed she was using the built-in keyboard on her thin laptop. Ugh. Mushy membrane keys. He could practically feel the ghost-pain in his own fingertips. At her speed, she was probably hitting 30 or 40 characters a minute.
Leo shifted his bag, feeling the heavy, satisfying weight of his custom mechanical keyboard inside. With his Qi-enhanced reflexes and the NZT processing, he could hit 90 characters of Japanese text a minute without breaking a sweat. If they wanted a "test" of his literary skill, he was going to show them what a professional output looked like.
The girl led him to a vacant desk and pulled a glass of water from a dispenser. "Here you go. Stay hydrated."
"Thanks," Leo said, setting his bag down with a heavy thud that made a few students look up.
"So, let's do the official stuff," the girl said, sitting across from him. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. "I'm Takashiro Rin, the head of this little department. Why don't you introduce yourself properly and tell me what literature means to you? Depending on your answer, I'll figure out where you fit in."
Leo took a slow sip of the water, feeling the cool liquid hit his throat. He looked over at Utaha again. She hadn't even looked up. She was in the "zone," her eyes reflecting the blue light of the screen.
What does literature mean to me? Leo thought. In my world, it was a way to escape. In this world, it's a weapon.
"My name is Leo Vance," he began, his voice dropping into that smooth, resonant tone that had the room's attention. "And to me, literature isn't just about 'feelings' or 'awards.' It's about architecture. It's about building a world so convincing and so immersive that the reader forgets they have a life to go back to. It's about control."
He reached into his bag and pulled out his mechanical keyboard, the matte-black frame and custom keycaps catching the light. He plugged it into his laptop with a crisp click.
"And if you want to see if I can actually build something," he said, looking Rin directly in the eye, "give me a prompt. I'll give you a first draft before you finish your water."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Utaha's fingers stop moving.
Hooked.
PLS SUPPORT ME AND THROW POWERSTONES .