Chapter 8: The Reality-Denying Otaku and the Girl Who Mistook Destiny

Winter had finally retreated.

Spring arrived with a gentle stride, bringing warm breezes and a sky that felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from the world. People seemed genuinely happy. Young couples shared bashful smiles, students laughed with abandon, and even the weary salarymen walked with a brighter spark in their eyes.

And in the middle of all that—I was being crushed inside a train like a sardine in a tin can. Spring might be romantic for some, but for anyone trapped in this mechanical mosh pit, it was just plain humid.

The train screeched to a halt at the city center. The doors hissed open, and people poured out like water from a breached dam. Right in front of me, a girl accidentally dropped a handful of papers. The spring wind immediately snatched them up, scattering them across the platform.

Reflexively, I moved to gather them.

"Here. These are yours."

She froze. She stared at me. Her hair was a deep, silken brownish-black that cascaded past her shoulders, glowing softly under the station lights. Her eyes were a pale green—clear, yet they seemed to belong to another world entirely. Her sunglasses had slipped down the bridge of her nose.

"Zeno-sama...?"

"Zeno? Who is that now?" I sighed. "Sorry, I think you have the wrong person."

"No... it’s you! You are Zeno-sama!"

I stood there, speechless. Great. Is she one of those people who has a boyfriend from another dimension?

She clutched her papers to her chest. "What should I do... Zeno-sama actually helped me..."

I glanced at my watch. I was going to be late for work. "Look, I'm in a hurry. Excuse me!"

I bolted toward my workplace—a local supermarket.

That day, I worked my shift like any other. "Morning, Kengo-kun. Early today, aren't you?" a regular customer greeted me. "No classes today, so I managed to get some decent sleep." "That’s the spirit. Keep at it!"

A few hours later, my manager beckoned me over. "Kengo-kun, a word. Do you know that girl?" "Which girl, sir?" "The one who’s been staring at you for the last hour."

I turned around. Sure enough, there she was. The girl from the station was standing outside the supermarket glass, watching me. Silent. Motionless. STARING.

Good grief... I groaned internally.

She stayed there all day. When I stocked shelves. When I worked the register. When I took my break. Every now and then, I’d hear a faint whisper through the glass: "Zeno-sama..."

I nearly dropped a customer's change. My life was officially turning into a weird anime spin-off.

When my shift finally ended, I intentionally took a detour. But the sound of footsteps followed me like a persistent shadow. I exhaled sharply and stopped.

"You there. You can come out now."

A trash can toppled over as she emerged from behind a pillar. "Zeno-sama!"

"I told you, I'm not Zeno."

She paused. "Oh... I see." Her voice dropped. "So... he isn't real?"

She gripped a sketchbook tightly. "Zeno is real as a character," I said as gently as I could. "But he isn't a human being." "Then... why do you look exactly like him?" "Fictional characters are often made from bits and pieces of real people."

She nodded slowly. "I see... I’m sorry for bothering you all day, then." "Ah, it's fine."

The day ended peacefully. That night, I looked it up on television. Finally, I figured out who Zeno was. He was the protagonist of a massive hit adventure anime. And... yeah. I got it now. We did look alike. A little bit.

The next day.

"Kengo-kun! We have another client!"

Dear God. Does it ever end?

Kurumi and I walked into the Heartbreak Society room, and my bad premonition was immediately confirmed. The girl from yesterday was sitting right there.

"Hey, you're the girl from yesterday. What are you doing here?" "Zeno-sama." "Heeh? You two know each other?" Kurumi asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Yeah. I helped her out yesterday."

The girl stood up. "My name is Ishikawa Yukari."

The room, which had been quiet, suddenly erupted. "Ishikawa Yukari?!" "Wait, isn't she that famous mangaka?" "Seriously? She’s our client today?"

I quickly searched her name on my phone. My jaw nearly hit the floor. Ishikawa Yukari. A student in the manga art club, a genius illustrator, and a fairly popular creator of fantasy-romance manga. Her male characters were always elegant, stoic, and far too perfect for reality.

And that lead character—the one everyone swooned over—was Prince Zeno.

She lived for the 2D world. She was a fixture at cosplay events and fiercely loyal to her fictional creations. And most importantly... she had zero interest in 3D men.

Why would someone like this come to our club?

"So... what is your request?" I asked.

Yukari took a deep breath. The tension in the room was palpable. "My request is..." Everyone leaned in. "It's you." She pointed a finger directly at me.

"Me?" "Harumasa Kengo. Will you go out with me?"

Silence. Absolute, deafening silence. Even the imaginary crickets outside seemed to stop chirping.

"EEEEEEHHHHH?!"

The room exploded. Kurumi froze like a statue. I stood up so fast my chair nearly flipped. "Absolutely not. I refuse."

Everyone stared at me as if I had just insulted the national constitution. "You ungrateful brat!" "You’re rejecting a girl that beautiful?!" "Just go die, Kengo!"

"Hey, hey! Why am I the criminal here?!"

Yukari raised her hand. "Wait. I was just joking." The room went silent again. "My request isn't actually to date you."

I let out a long breath of relief. Saved.

"I just need a reference. I’m stuck on my latest chapter." "...Reference?" "I purposely set that up to get a reaction for Zeno’s character. I wanted to see how a real man reacts to a sudden confession."

I massaged my temples. "So I was just a lab rat?" "More or less."

Kurumi finally spoke up, her voice small. "So... what are you going to write about Kengo?"

Yukari answered calmly, "Maybe... just his personality. I like his honest reactions."

Kurumi offered a thin smile. "So you’re not the type to actually flirt, then?" "Dating a 3D man? Disgusting." Yukari’s answer was blunt.

For some reason, that stingy response made my chest feel a little tight. Yukari opened her sketchbook and scribbled something down.

"Yosh. That’s my request." "What request?" "About the reference. Are you willing to help me?" "And if I say no?" "I won't force you."

She closed her book. And in that moment, I realized something. This wasn't just another weird client. This was a creator at work. And without even knowing it, I had likely become a character in her story.

But the real danger wasn't Yukari’s obsession. It was Kurumi’s gaze—unreadable and sharp. For some reason, that look made me far more nervous than being called "Zeno-sama" all day.