The Disillusioned Novelist Does Not Dream of Chuuni Angel

Someone once said, “failure is the essence of youth, to experience failure is to experience adolescence.”

I know for a fact that whoever said those words have never been through true failure.

Facing some minor setbacks, only to surmount them effortlessly, those experiences could not possibly be said as “failures”.

Failures are not the stepping stones to success, failures are just failures. Not everyone who had failed can rise triumphant and treat those strenuous experiences as mere episodes of youth.

Most fail and regret, then with time pick themselves back up, and that’s that.

No dramatic endings await in the aftermath of failure, there come only tranquil conclusions.

But maybe, the teenage years that are filled with these undecorated regrets are what makes it worth cherishing…

◇

“Nah, nah, nah… that opening sounds way too dramatic… or should I say pretentious…”

I mumble to myself, as I am holding down the delete key on my keyboard.

I, Kyoto Ichijou, am facing the problem of a lifetime.

I'm suffering from a major case of writer's block: the deadline for the draft of my novel is coming up in a week, yet I just crucified my most promising introduction so far. It's no exaggeration to say that my progress has been virtually nil.

Tapping my right foot on the floor, me and my computer chair start spinning.

◇

The series that I've been working on—My Unremarkable Romantic Comedy—was over three years ago, yet the publisher has been desperately trying to squeeze every last bit of money out of it for the last three years. Epilogues, spin-offs, alternative endings… the whole shebang.

To be frank, I'm on my wit's end for this series, I've written everything I could.

"I should really start working on a new story, huh? And stop with these fan-service alternative endings…"

Ding Dong, the doorbell interrupts my train of thought.

I slowly trudge towards the foyer, feet between the energy drink cans scattered all over. Opening the door, behind is a girl around the age of a middle schooler.

A head of brown hair paired with it a pair of brown eyes. On her bangs are a conspicuous heart-shaped hairpin, and the vintage one-piece dress adds to her childish appearance a dash of maturity. In short, she's a cute girl.

"Be elated, ye sheep who are lost. The name is Raphael, bestowing upon this land as the Lord Almighty."

… I stand corrected, she's a lunatic.

"Isn't Raphael the name of the archangel? Why'd you say you're God?"

"Haha, aren't you a clever young man? It's rare to meet people that still recognize my name these days, for that you shall have my praise."

I only knew because the name Raphael is quite common in games and anime, but it sure feels nice to be complimented.

"Well, the whole thing's a long story. But to keep it short, the God as you humans know has ceased to exist a long time ago, and the duties of their lordship have been passed onto us angels, so it wouldn't be a stretch to call me God."

… Not only is she a lunatic, she's also a cult preacher too.

"Oh, sorry, I'm not interested in joining any religious groups right now. You should try Mr. Satou from next door, I bet he'd be very intrigued."

"Eh?"

Is what I said really that out of left field?

"Anyways, I've still got stuff to do, have a nice day."

I lock the door and sit back down on my computer chair.

Can't believe even middle-schoolers are preaching cultist teachings nowadays, we truly live in a society.

"Don't just go and assume people are cult preachers."

The voice comes from the direction of the entrance, I look towards the foyer, falling off of my chair out of shock.

The self-proclaimed God has her upper body peeking through the door, her lower body soon follows.

"Looks like I really need to quit sleeping only four hours a day…"

I still can't comprehend what I have just seen. I grab my energy drink, wanting to drink it and calm myself down, it's empty.

"People used to worship my mere presence, you guys nowadays sure are untrusting. Is it because of the internet?"

She points at the drink I am holding, the empty can suddenly feels weighty again, with the tiniest noises of bubbles popping.

I take a sip, yep, it's the familiar sugar-free citrus flavor.

"Do you feel like hearing what this god has to say now? Don't worry, it's free of charge."

I hope I'm dreaming.