Chapter 42: The Eve of the Final Page

Chapter 42: The Eve of the Final Page

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“I love you... because I know that if I wait too long, I'll lose you completely.”

My room is a fortress built of paper and ink. Books are stacked like uneven towers on every surface, and the walls are adorned with aesthetic prints that make me feel safe, yet isolated. I sat on the edge of my bed, the weight of my bass guitar resting against my thigh. My fingers danced idly over the strings, producing a low, muffled hum—a lonely murmur like the wind through a distant, forgotten forest.

In my mind, Kazuaki had always been like a glowing metropolis beyond a mountain range. I could see the shimmering lights from my peak, but I had never found the road that led to the city gates.

“Kazuaki… you graduate tomorrow,” I whispered.

The name felt like it was dissolving into the shadows of the trees. While I was Belle, trapped in a quiet, provincial village of my own making, he was the Beast—not because he was cruel, but because he was locked away in a magnificent castle of genius and mystery. There was an invisible wall between us, a barrier made of his silence and my fear. Even though our eyes had met across the campus more times than I could count, I knew I was still just a figure in the background of his epic.

“I hope you’ll be happy out there,” I murmured, the words tasting like bitter tea. “But why does it feel like you’re drifting even further away?”

The bass notes faded into the silence of the room. I set the instrument aside and reached for my laptop, seeking the only refuge I knew: my blog. This was my secret garden, the place where I planted words like magic seeds in the dark soil of the internet. Usually, writing gave me wings, but tonight, my vocabulary felt lost.

For the next two years, the campus would feel hollow. The thought of a university without his quiet presence at the lab or his silhouette in the library was a chapter I wasn't ready to read. Frustrated and restless, I grabbed my phone and dialed the only person who could pull me out of my own head.

“Hey, Yuki-chan!” Kiriha’s voice exploded through the speaker, vibrant and sharp. “What’s up? Is the world ending, or are you just drowning in your own drama again?”

“What should I do?” I groaned, staring at the ceiling. “You know… about Kazuaki. Tomorrow is the end.”

“Oh, hush! You’re overthinking. Come meet me in Muromachi. Mitsuki is busy with band stuff, so I need a shopping partner. No excuses!”

I agreed, mostly because the silence of my room was becoming deafening. However, as I was getting ready, my phone buzzed again. It was a text from Ageha.

“I heard you’re going out with that loud-mouthed fashion disaster Kiriha. I’m coming too. Someone needs to make sure she doesn't dress you like a circus tent while you’re busy daydreaming about your Prince Charming.”

I sighed, realizing my quiet afternoon was about to become a battlefield.

Muromachi was bustling with the energy of early spring. As we walked through the shopping district, the neon signs and crowded storefronts blurred into a kaleidoscope of color. Kiriha and Ageha were like fire and ice walking beside me.

“Oh, look at this blouse! Yuki-chan, this would look so cute on you!” Kiriha squealed, holding up a ruffled pink top.

“It looks like a used napkin,” Ageha countered coldly, barely glancing at it. “She needs something sharp, Kiriha. Something that doesn't scream 'I’m a helpless side character'.”

“Excuse me? My taste is avant-garde!” Kiriha barked, crossing her arms. “You’re just bitter because you spend all your time looking like a strict librarian.”

“At least I don't look like a neon sign in a power outage,” Ageha shot back.

I walked between them, feeling like a small boat caught in a storm between two giant warships. “Please... let’s just focus on the shopping,” I whispered, though they were already arguing about the merits of different fabrics.

“Oh, about Kazuaki,” Kiriha said suddenly, ignoring Ageha’s glare as she examined a silk scarf. “Don’t look so tragic. He, Mitsuki, and I—along with a few others—all got hired by the same tech and media firm. I’ll be right there to make sure no ‘weird girls’ try to claim him.” She winked at me, a flash of red lipstick and mischief.

“And I’ll be there to make sure you don't scare him away with your ego,” Ageha added, shifting her shopping bags. She looked at me, her expression softening just a fraction. “Don't worry, Yukifuyu. He isn't going to the moon. He’s just going to an office.”

I laughed despite myself, feeling a sudden, cool wave of relief. Despite their constant bickering—like a cat and a dog fighting over the same patch of sunlight—they both knew exactly how to keep me from falling apart.

While they moved on to the next shop to debate over a pair of boots, I found a small bench and opened my laptop. My fingers began to fly across the keys, as if they were sparrows chirping at dawn. I wrote about him—not as a man, but as a seagull standing on a lonely shore, looking toward a horizon only he could see. He was a moon shining over a dark forest, bright but cold, and impossibly high.

I wrote about how his talents weren't for show, but were the brushes he used to paint a world that only he understood. And I wrote about my fear: that tomorrow, I would lose the only star I had ever learned to navigate by.

Suddenly, two shadows fell over my screen.

“So this is what you’re always typing? Good grief, Yuki, this is so obviously about Kazuaki it’s practically a love letter!” Kiriha smirked, leaning over my left shoulder.

“It’s a bit melodramatic, isn’t it?” Ageha remarked from my right, though she was reading the screen with genuine interest. “'A moon shining over a dark forest'? Really, Yukifuyu?”

I slammed the laptop shut, my heart nearly jumping out of my chest. “Kiriha-senpai! Ageha-senpai! Don't peek! It’s private!”

“Hey, I was just curious,” Kiriha laughed. “If you like him this much, why are you still acting like a background character in a romance novel? Kazuaki is a nice guy, you know.”

“He’s a man, not a mythological creature,” Ageha added, leaning against the bench. “You treat him like he’s made of glass. He’s sturdier than you think.”

I shook my head, my face heating up until I felt like I was glowing. “It’s not that simple… I’m just… I’m afraid. He seems so comfortable in a world where I don't exist.”

Kiriha sighed, her playful demeanor softening into something uncharacteristically serious. “You think too much, Hayashi Yukifuyu. Life isn't a novel where you’re just the reader. There comes a point where you have to jump into the scene.”

“Kiriha is right—for once,” Ageha said, ignoring Kiriha’s indignant gasp. “Minato Kazuaki isn't as ‘untouchable’ as you’ve convinced yourself he is. He’s human. He eats, he sleeps, and he probably gets lonely too.”

Her words left me speechless. We finished the day in a small, quiet café, sipping tea and watching the sun dip below the city skyline. Kiriha and Ageha continued to bicker over the bill, but for the first time, the noise felt comforting rather than overwhelming.

I looked at the closed laptop on the table. Maybe they were right. Maybe the tragedy of my story wasn't that I was a side character, but that I was the author—and I had been too afraid to write myself a better part.

Tomorrow was his graduation. Tomorrow was the end of Volume Two. But as I watched the steam rise from my tea, I felt a spark of something new. Maybe, just maybe, I could find the courage to write myself into the next chapter. Not as a reader. Not as the wind. But as a voice that finally, finally reaches him.