The Abyss Egg was located at the deepest part of the first-round exhibition gallery. The area around them was quiet, like a ruin. Only the sounds of Kotomi and Mashiro's breathing and heartbeat could be heard.
The mont Mashiro Shiina spoke those words, Kotomi Izumi thought she heard the sound of a beautiful instrunt—a lody so soft and delicate, its tone clear and transparent, like an oboe carrying a bluebird on the breeze.
"Kotomi, may I take you as my wife?"
As if afraid Kotomi might pretend not to hear, Mashiro spoke again. Her voice had always been soft, making people think of her as a shy girl.
But right now, her voice rang out clear and loud.
Mashiro stood directly in front of Kotomi, the distance between them practically nonexistent. Her soft cheeks were flushed, and her orange-red eyes sparkled as if in a dream.
Marry .
Let take you as my wife.
Two different ways to say the sa thing, but both had left Mashiro's lips in such a short span.
Kotomi stood there, dumbfounded.
"Mashiro, what kind of person do you think I am..." she asked, the question slipping out almost unconsciously.
"Like a heroine from a novel—one blessed with beauty, wisdom, and wit—who has stepped into the real world."
Mashiro's words scratched a sweet itch deep inside Kotomi's prideful heart, easing the shock from the sudden confession. Complints like those were exactly what she loved to hear.
"..."
Kotomi didn't respond aloud, but it felt like she was being hit by two waves of sugary affection.
The first ca from gumi Kato—Kato was her girlfriend.
The second ca from Mashiro Shiina, who now stood before her, confessing so bravely.
Maybe it was her imagination, but Kotomi had a feeling that the sweet "orange-like" confessions crashing into her would only increase in the future.
"When I first saw the painting you made for , sothing inside quietly solidified," Mashiro said. "I don't have the best sense of ti—I didn't learn how to read a clock until the fourth grade. But I rember even way back, whenever I thought of you, it felt like an electric current through my body. Whenever I saw you getting close with other girls, I couldn't help but feel jealous inside."
"Jealous that they could be so close to you."
"Is that what they call... jealousy?"
Mashiro tilted her head adorably, then continued:
"And maybe it's not just . Among the girls around you, I think many of them start to develop feelings without realizing it. Before they know it, they're already hopelessly in love with you."
"Wanting to see your face every day, and feeling a strange pang of jealousy when you get close to others—there must be a lot of girls like that!"
"Maybe... while I was getting closer to you, I beca soone else's target of jealousy."
"You're right, I do like girls. But Mashiro, you may not know this... I have a girlfriend. And you know her."
"Of course I know. You're dating gumi Kato, right?" Mashiro said with a calm smile.
"Eh? Since when did you know?!" Kotomi's eyes widened in disbelief.
She thought she and gumi had done a great job keeping their relationship discreet at school. To classmates, they just looked like extrely close friends. Their affection was always hidden in plain sight—subtle yet intense.
So how did Mashiro know?
"That ti you and Kato kissed in the art clubroom... I saw it."
Mashiro delivered the bombshell with the calst tone.
What?!!
That secret kiss between her and gumi... Mashiro had seen it?!
Kotomi's mind flashed back to that mont—her face flushed with seductive shyness as she leaned into gumi's embrace, eyes hazy, lips slightly parted, like a kitten curled in its owner's lap, longing to be fed.
The fact that Mashiro had seen all of that only made Kotomi's already blushing face turn even redder. It was as if white steam were rising from her head, like she was being boiled alive.
"I want to marry you," Mashiro said, giving Kotomi no ti to speak. She tucked her hair behind her ear, lifted her exquisitely delicate face, and looked straight into Kotomi's eyes.
Kotomi was stunned.
She had no idea what Mashiro was saying.
No—she understood the words. But she couldn't grasp the aning.
She wore a dazed, silly expression.
"I..."
Kotomi, usually so quick-witted, was utterly lost in the face of Mashiro's overwhelming confession. She didn't know how to respond.
Did she love Kato?
Yes. Very much so.
Did she love Mashiro?
Also yes. Very much so.
And there were others she liked too...
"Is it because you already have gumi Kato as your girlfriend, and you don't know how to respond to ? Are you feeling torn?" Mashiro asked, smiling like a sly cat.
An Iriomote wildcat.
What was going on?
Why did Mashiro suddenly feel... a little cunning?
Was it her imagination?
Mashiro stared into Kotomi's eyes, then at her lips, and gently took her hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of it.
It was only a kiss on her hand, but it felt like a love potion brewed by a witch. Kotomi nearly lost her mind from the sweetness that spread through her body. Her senses dulled, and she almost agreed to the proposal right then and there.
Faced with Mashiro's question, Kotomi could only nod. She truly didn't know how to respond—because of Kato.
Seeing her nod, Mashiro didn't look disappointed at all. In fact, a powerful fire of determination flared up in her eyes. She held Kotomi's hand tightly and declared, each word like a vow carved into their hearts:
"Your girlfriend is gumi Kato—I can't accept that!!!"
"Kotomi, even if you don't know how to answer now because of her, that's okay. But I'm going to challenge you!"
"In one hundred days, I'm going to make you fall completely in love with !"
Gone was the soft, shy girl. In her place stood a fearless warrior brandishing her halberd, charging into battle.
Or perhaps, in that mont, Mashiro finally revealed the sharp little claws she had kept hidden all along.
Assaulted by double orange-like sweetness, Kotomi felt like she was about to be devoured!
After solving her stomach troubles, Hibiki Naegi jogged back to Kotomi and Mashiro's side. As the president of the art club, it was her responsibility to ensure the safety of her mbers over the next three days.
With great power cos great responsibility—and being a club president during a trip like this often ant taking on a lot of unglamorous, behind-the-scenes work.
Anyone who's ever been a student ntor for college freshn would probably understand Hibiki's burden to so extent.
That said, compared to other presidents, Hibiki's load was lighter.
Because with soone as reliable as Kotomi in the art club, whenever Hibiki had an ergency, she could entrust Kotomi with things, offer her a little incentive, and then step back knowing things would be fine.
"Kotomi, Mashiro, you two went really far. I spent forever looking for you in the exhibition hall," Hibiki said, finally stopping and bending over to catch her breath. She had excellent stamina in bed, but her stamina while walking on solid ground? Not quite the sa.
"Sorry, sorry, Naegi-senpai. I just couldn't wait to see Mashiro's painting, so I ran ahead," Kotomi said with a sheepish smile, taking the initiative to shoulder the bla.
"Nah, it's fine. I did go and eat ice cream this morning even though I shouldn't have, so it's partly my fault too.
Anyway, where's Mashiro's painting? I walked around the hall for ages and didn't see even the title, let alone the piece itself. Don't tell the organizers didn't display it?
If that's the case, I'm going to raise hell."
With a fierce glint in her eyes, Hibiki rolled up her sleeves and looked ready to find a staff mber and demand answers.
If Mashiro's piece really wasn't displayed, Hibiki would ditch her usual polite-senpai persona and show everyone exactly how she handled a fight.
She might look gentle on the outside, but Hibiki was more than capable of throwing down when it ca to arguing.
"Please don't go starting trouble with the staff. Look, Mashiro's painting is right over there. Because of its size, they displayed it in this section," Kotomi quickly interjected, pointing toward the direction of the artwork.
Hibiki followed Kotomi's finger, and when The Abyss Egg ca into view, even though she'd ntally prepared herself, the mont she laid eyes on it, she couldn't help but forget to breathe.
Once again, Hibiki experienced firsthand the enormous gap between her and Mashiro.
A gap so vast it made her feel like no amount of effort—not even a lifeti's worth—could ever close it.
She had to force herself to stay upright despite the dizziness washing over her. Looking up at the piece mounted on the wall, she took a deep breath. And oddly, instead of feeling crushed, she felt... lighter.
Hibiki didn't offer any comntary on Mashiro's painting. But the expression on her face and the emotional shift she went through in that instant said more than words ever could.
The first-round exhibition space was larger than expected. But compared to the vastness of the gallery, the number of artworks displayed was relatively small.
Which made sense—if too many paintings were allowed, the prestige of the National Art Prize would diminish.
After viewing her own painting, Mashiro's, and Naegi-senpai's, Kotomi felt like her interest had been completely spent.
She found a nearby bench and sat down, no longer in the mood to browse.
Not because she was tired—this level of walking was nothing for soone like Kotomi, who had the constitution of a queen among won.
It was just that she genuinely felt there wasn't anything else in the exhibit that could surprise or move her.
In short, there wasn't a single artwork left that could pique Kotomi's interest.
"Naegi-senpai, I don't want to walk around anymore. Let's go..." Kotomi said in a slightly whiny tone as she sat down on a bench.
There were other selected participants nearby, so she refrained from saying what she truly felt: This is so boring.
Kotomi wasn't foolish enough to blurt that out in front of all these participants. There was no need to stir up unnecessary hostility. A quiet ntal grumble would suffice.
Saying it aloud would instantly max out the aggro against her.
Group aggro, at that.
Kotomi had no interest in becoming the pri target of everyone's resentnt.
"Uh... to be honest, I'm not super motivated to keep looking around either. But if we're going to leave early, we all need to agree. Mashiro, what about you? Do you want to keep browsing or head out?" Hibiki asked.
From earlier on, Hibiki had noticed her interest in the surrounding artwork steadily declining.
There were definitely many pieces technically better than hers. Normally, Hibiki would stay in the exhibition all day, studying each superior work closely, not missing a single detail, hoping to improve her own technique.
That was exactly her mindset when they first entered the exhibition hall.
But after seeing Kotomi and Mashiro's works, sothing shifted.
She didn't feel heavy or disappointed—rather, an odd lightness settled in. Like her whole body wanted to float up into the clouds.
Sotis, important decisions are made in monts like this, without fanfare.
When asked, Mashiro replied without hesitation: "I wanted to leave ages ago!"
Mashiro had only co to the exhibition for one reason: to see Kotomi's painting.
After admiring it, she no longer had any desire to continue looking around.
The three quickly reached a cheerful consensus to leave early.
As they made their way toward the exit—
A man with cool, refined looks was holding his daughter's hand as they admired the artwork in the area.
His daughter had grown up in Kyoto. When she heard that the Kyoto National Museum of Modern Art was hosting the first round of the National Art Prize exhibition, she begged to co.
This man was wildly successful in business. Starting with a single small milk tea shop, he had built from the ground up Japan's most popular tea brand: Snow Deer City, with over ten thousand franchises across the country.
His na was Reishu Hisada—founder and CEO of Snow Deer City.
With his level of connections, getting two tickets to the first round of the exhibition was a breeze. Worst case, he could have just sent his secretary to negotiate with the University of Tokyo or Kyoto University to involve Snow Deer City as a sponsor.
He could've slapped on a slogan like: "Enjoy Art with Snow Deer City Tea."
"Daddy, look! That white-haired big sister over there—she looks exactly like the girl from that painting we saw earlier!" exclaid Marika Hisada, clapping her hands like she'd discovered treasure. On the way here, she had seen Mashiro's painting The Abyss Egg.
"No way," Reishu chuckled, humoring his daughter and glancing toward where she was pointing.
But when he saw Kotomi's figure—her back turned to him—shock filled his eyes, leaving no room for anything else.
Reishu Hisada, a man who had weathered many storms in life, stood frozen with his mouth agape, stunned for several monts.
He stared at Kotomi's back in disbelief and blurted out:
"Little princess?!"
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