Satan's Proposal (3)
Was running into Fermi at the bookstore Seriel frequented that day just a coincidence?
"Y—you…"
Or was it a terrible fate?
"How are you here?"
Seriel, momentarily stunned, hid the copy of The Primal Snare she'd been reading.
'Ugh, how embarrassing.'
It was the sort of taste she could proudly display to anyone, but this time felt different.
Fermi smiled.
"No need to hide it. The Primal Snare—it's all the rage with women. Not exactly my type, though."
"Huh? You know this too?"
Seriel, suddenly interested again, shifted her expression and asked casually, "Anyway… what are you doing here?"
"It's a bookstore. My family's in publishing. They probably stock it here."
"Oh, right."
The Ardino family was famous enough to be ranked twentieth in Tormia's business circles. Their main income wasn't from ordinary books but from high-end information—magic, alchemy, that sort of thing.
'Of course he'd be involved with that kind of thing.'
Fermi continued, "My father asked me to look into some things, and I just happened to see you. So? How is it?"
"What is?"
"The sequel to The Primal Snare. It's getting a lot of buzz. This time the roles are reversed." If Seriel already knew, she didn't need to hide it—what she wanted was someone to share the excitement with.
Seriel held out the book. "Yes! It's amazing! This time the male lead gets bound by the female lead's snare. And then—"
She stopped; what came next was too embarrassing to say out loud, so Seriel cleared her throat. "Ahem! Anyway, that's it."
Fermi's eyes curved like gulls. "So it's that sort of thing. SM, huh."
"What does it matter to you? And the act itself isn't the point. It's who the target is. Meiton is a dashing noble."
That was the male protagonist's name.
"Is that so? He was the victim of an arranged marriage—married a sixty-two-year-old woman. He was sexually abused. Then he meets the maid—the female lead—and discovers his hidden nature."
Fermi knew the plot.
"From then on he ties her up in all sorts of ways. The philosophy of restraint was interesting, but he's still a pervert, right?"
"Ha! Do you think you're the only one like that? And you skipped over why Meiton became that way. Since he was fifteen, to his wife Madeleine—" Seriel cut herself off.
'Why am I even talking about this with him?'
Fermi snorted. "You really like it, don't you? Well, he resembles me, so of course women like him."
"Huh? What did you say?"
"A cold, intellectual man who rose above childhood wounds. Handsome above all. That's totally me, right?" Seriel said nothing, but a murderous gleam flashed in her eyes.
"Sorry. Spare me."
"Ha. Enough. Go on, will you? I'm taking a rare day off."
Fermi was older than Seriel. "Want to come? You look like you have nothing to do. Let's grab a bite."
"Are you crazy? Why would I eat with you?"
"Better than eating alone, right? We see each other every day in the school cafeteria."
Seriel gave a mischievous smile. "Aha—so you're hitting on me?"
"Well, if you put it that way…"
'Look at him.'
She'd heard rumors—unconfirmed—about Fermi's reputation for womanizing.
"Ha! Scared? I'll eat you up—"
"Fine! Fine. Let's go."
The thought of that made Seriel shiver; she steered Fermi along anyway. "But I'm choosing the cafeteria. Actually, good timing. I wanted to hear something from you."
It was a chance to get information straight from a source about the Geumhwa-ryun corruption rumors circulating in the school.
"Amy, wait. I might get valuable info."
Seriel set the book on the counter. The shop owner checked the price and handed it back.
"Is he your boyfriend? He's handsome."
As Seriel started to wave her hand to respond, Fermi beat her to it. "Thanks. Here's the payment."
Fermi placed a silver coin on the counter. Seriel looked back, stunned. "What? Why are you paying for mine?"
"Just to look good. Little reversals like this are part of Meiton's charm."
Seriel couldn't even scoff.
"Were you serious? Let me tell you, you can't be Meiton. He looks cold on the surface but has a delicate sensitivity underneath."
Seriel jabbed a finger as she spoke. "Not like you and your dark heart!" The shop owner laughed.
"Arguing over The Primal Snare? There are plenty of people like that. If you're such a fan, why don't you go to the square? I heard the author came today."
Seriel's head snapped around. "What? Author Sirius?"
"Yeah. He goes around Tormia doing signings on his days off. He must've started by now—"
"Thank you!"
Grabbing her book, Seriel dashed from the shop. Fermi hurried after her. "Hey! What about food?"
"Is food the priority now? Hurry up and follow!"
When they reached the square, a long line had formed beneath a high banner. Most of the crowd were women of all ages.
"It's real? The author of The Primal Snare—Sirius. A signing for the sequel."
Seriel hugged the book to her chest and stamped her feet. "What do I do? I'm so nervous! What kind of person will he be? He'll have a cold impression, right? The vibe will be perfect. Sirius as a pen name already gives that feel, doesn't it?"
"He's over there."
At the table Fermi pointed to, a burly man sat signing books.
"An old bearded man?"
A dark-bearded man with nothing romantic about his appearance was doing the signing. Fermi suppressed a laugh. "A reincarnation of Meiton?"
Seriel clenched her mouth shut and took a deep breath as she joined the line. "It's fine. An author's power is in the writing. He must be sensitive."
Sirius lingered in conversation with a female reader, slowing things down. "See? I told you."
Seriel's shoulders were tense, but a moment later she was stunned into silence.
"Next!"
When a couple came up, Sirius—unlike before—didn't even look at them. "Author, could you write my name too…"
"Next!"
The woman's boyfriend, affronted, snapped, "How long does writing a name take? You talked to that woman for five minutes."
"So what? You think I'm a joke? Are you a couple or not? Can't you see I have no interest in lovers?"
The boyfriend was speechless. "Are you sick or something?"
"Get out! My readers are only women! Women without lovers! Isn't that right, everyone?"
There were a few jeers, but they were drowned by cheers.
Seriel gaped. "What is this?"
"He's a novelist. As someone in publishing, I've seen people like him. Think about it—you can lose yourself in a book for two hours, but that person lives in the book all day."
"A kind of occupational disease."
"Right. Their characters matter more than their own lives. What he does in reality is drink, smoke, and cause a scene at signings when couples show up."
Seriel made a distressed face. "Will he think we're a couple? We're not. What if he misunderstands?"
Her worry wasn't unfounded.
After about an hour, as their turn neared, the host announced, "Alright, everyone! Today's signing is over. Please continue to support author Sirius."
A hollow groan went up. Sirius rose from the table and walked away.
"What a pity. If only he'd done three more people, we could've made it."
Fermi said nothing.
They followed Sirius with their eyes as he headed into a café in the square.
"Give me the book."
Fermi snatched The Primal Snare and dashed toward the café. "Hey! Fermi!"
By the time Seriel caught up, a swarm of readers had gathered at the café entrance. "Does Meiton truly love Elzia? If he loves her, why does he act like that?"
Readers fired questions one after another. Fermi pushed through the crowd. "Excuse me."
A host blocked the café door. "Sorry, the signing's over. The author is tired—maybe next time—"
"He's with me."
Fermi slid a business card his father had given him under the host's nose. Seeing the Ardino family crest, the host flustered and stepped aside. "Please come this way."
Before Fermi approached, the host quickly whispered into Sirius's ear.
"Hmph. So?"
Seeing Sirius's reaction, Fermi sighed inwardly. 'This is that type.' Most authors were friendly with readers, but some were stubborn like this.
"Hello. I'm Fermi of the Ardino family."
"I remember. You were in line," Sirius said—though his real memory was of Seriel, not Fermi.
"My friend is a fan. She's not my girlfriend, honestly. Could you sign, please?"
"Haha. Really?"
Sirius sneered. "What do you take me for? You think a writer of erotic novels wouldn't notice? You're trying to win that woman's favor. You can't fool me."
He was right.
"Yes. But she's truly not my girlfriend. Could you, in your magnanimity, help us out?"
Fermi didn't deal with customers lightly.
"I know your situation, but there are no exceptions. People may say I'm no great writer and yet I hold my head high, but I have my own writing philosophy. I couldn't do this job without it."
'That kind—right on the nose.' Sirius was the worst match for a publisher.
"This is small, but—"
Fermi reached into his pocket and handed Sirius a gold coin as a last resort. It was an amount hard to refuse even for a hit like The Primal Snare.
"Oh, money."
Sirius grabbed the coin. "I like money. Who doesn't? But you businessman, aren't you mistaken?"
He shoved the coin into Fermi's pocket. "I don't write for money. I make money to write. Once, a noble offered a fortune to change a story. I refused. Want to know why? I only change something when—"
Sirius grabbed his iced coffee and hurled it at Fermi's face. "—I judge it better for the readers! That has nothing to do with money."
Coffee ran down Fermi's face. The readers outside gasped. "Oh my! What happened!"
Most looked gleeful, but Seriel had gone pale. 'What kind of man is he…' Anyone at Alpheas School of Magic who knew Fermi would have thought the same.
"…I understand."
Contrary to expectations, Fermi stepped out of the café without wiping the coffee from his face.
Outside, he noticed coffee had splashed onto the copy of The Primal Snare.
"Ah…"
For the first time, Seriel saw Fermi's eyes waver with embarrassment.
"Sorry. Um… about that—"
Fermi awkwardly picked up the book. "Should I go buy a new one right now? I can go alone."
Silence fell.
Then Seriel clutched her stomach and laughed. "Pu-hahaha! Hey, you're really funny! Pu-hahaha!"
"Why? What's so funny?"
Fermi probably never realized. Seriel loved that book, but in the end it was only a book.
At that moment—he hadn't gotten an autograph, but he knew what truly mattered.
Honestly… it was kind of cool.
In Seriel's eyes, he was a pretty decent man.