Perhaps simplicity is a kind of distinction as well.

The next day dawned bright and clear. A few wisps of cloud drifted across the sky, unable to obscure the deep blue overhead.

Cherry blossoms fluttered down, swaying gently before scattering in all directions. It was as if a master of traditional painting had casually dabbed the crystal-clear mirror of the sky with touches of tender pink and crimson. Rather than appearing chaotic, the scene was enhanced by an added sense of beauty.

Jiang Yu, exuding an almost ethereal air, struggled out of bed. Still half asleep, he prepared breakfast, and in the same daze, called out to Tsuchiya Mai, who remained fast asleep.

Honestly, little sister, when does your school even start? I’m genuinely a bit envious of your life, getting to sleep in every day...

Yawning, Jiang Yu grumbled silently as he went about his morning. He finished breakfast in silence, casting a look of deep resentment at Tsuchiya Mai as she headed straight back to bed. Shaking his head vigorously, he donned his uniform, grabbed his bag, and left for school, yawning all the way.

If anyone were to ask why things had turned out like this, the answer was simple: after downloading RC last night, Jiang Yu hadn’t been able to stop. In one sitting, he had completed the map for the main character’s awakening in Act One and designed the exterior of the “Witch’s House” castle. By the time he snapped out of his creative trance, it was nearly four in the morning. The exhaustion hit him all at once as the adrenaline faded, and he collapsed into bed.

He only slept for two or three hours before the alarm woke him again, forcing him to get up and prepare breakfast for two.

On the way to school, Jiang Yu unexpectedly spotted a familiar figure. Rubbing his tired eyes, he confirmed he wasn’t mistaken, hesitated briefly, then hurried to catch up.

“Hey! Kato, good morning.” Yes, the girl he had run into was none other than the one who claimed she left a weak impression on others.

“Ah~ Good morning, Jiang Yu,” Megumi Kato replied, tilting her head slightly, her tone even.

“...” And then both fell silent, out of things to say. Jiang Yu realized, upon reflection, that he really didn’t have any topics to discuss with Megumi Kato.

As for Megumi herself, she wasn’t the type to initiate conversation either, was she? Probably not...

The two walked quietly into the classroom, keeping pace with each other. It was still early, so only a few students were inside—except for...

“Yu, good morning~” Except for Tomoya Aki.

“Ah, Tomoya, morning.” Jiang Yu yawned again, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, and replied weakly.

“...Yu, even if there are lots of new shows or you’ve found a fun game, you shouldn’t stay up so late that you’re exhausted at school the next day,” Tomoya said earnestly.

“Oh, come on... You, king of all-nighters, have no right to lecture me. Besides, I wasn’t watching anime or playing games,” Jiang Yu retorted, dropping onto his seat, his body slumping onto the desk as soon as he felt the cold surface of the chair.

“...I’ve been busy with something very, extremely, incredibly important lately. Classes don’t matter at all,” Tomoya said, adjusting his glasses with a grave expression.

So you pulled another all-nighter, didn’t you, Tomoya? And just so you know, piling on that many modifiers doesn’t make your project sound more important—it just makes your sentence awkward.

Too tired to voice his sarcasm, Jiang Yu glanced at the energetic Tomoya and quietly closed his eyes, hoping to catch a short nap.

“Did you stay up late last night, Jiang Yu?” Suddenly, a calm voice sounded nearby.

Startled, Jiang Yu steadied himself and realized that seated behind him was Megumi Kato—the friend he’d technically met just yesterday, despite having been classmates for a year.

“I just had something to do... Wait, I didn’t realize you sat behind me, Kato.”

“Ah~ The seating chart was already posted yesterday, wasn’t it?”

“...Sorry, I didn’t notice at all.”

“That’s probably because you were on your phone the entire time yesterday?”

“Ah... I wasn’t playing, really, I just had something to work on.”

“Oh? What was that?”

“J-just... writing a novel, that’s all.”

“Oh... Is it the kind of novel they’d consider for the Naoki Prize?”

“As if... No, it’s just a light novel.”

“Eh... I haven’t really read any light novels before.”

“If you want to read some, I’ll bring you a few tomorrow.”

“...”

Such casual banter—surely something I’d never expect to have with a girl, Jiang Yu thought, still astonished.

He turned to take a closer look at Megumi Kato: bobbed hair, school uniform, pleasant features—neither tall nor short, skin fair, her figure neither too curvy nor too slight, all just right.

If you keep going like this, it’ll be classified as sexual harassment, you know, protagonist?

Catching Megumi’s puzzled gaze, Jiang Yu, eager to ease the awkwardness, blurted out, “Um... I think, Kato, you’re...”

“Hmm?” She looked even more confused.

“You’re kind of normally cute.” Now he was stuck.

What am I even saying? Jiang Yu wanted to die of embarrassment.

“...Th-thank you. But it feels kind of sudden—not really sincere, you know?”

“And besides, until yesterday—even though we’ve been in the same class for over a year—you didn’t even remember my name or face.”

“Ugh... Please, let’s not talk about that.”

“Honestly, I was surprised—Kato, you’re so cute, I thought you’d be more popular!”

But Jiang Yu noticed that no other students greeted Megumi along the way. Even if he chalked it up to coincidence, no one greeted her in the classroom either...

Objectively speaking, this girl named Megumi Kato was definitely cute.

Yet there was something about her personality that seemed to mask it, so much so that even Jiang Yu, who rarely spoke to girls, could chat with her without feeling shy...

“So, you really didn’t remember me before today?” Megumi deadpanned.

“It’s the first time I’ve ever thought about it, honestly!”

It was a complete blunder, quickly followed by a makeshift attempt to justify himself. But Jiang Yu hadn’t lied or tried to flatter her.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to try so hard.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“I really am plain, aren’t I?”

“Plain...?”

The moment Megumi uttered that self-deprecating word, Jiang Yu felt a strange warmth well up in his chest.

“Maybe you don’t realize it, but you’re actually pretty well-known too, Jiang Yu.”

“...Huh?”

“That anime screening during the first-year festival—the promo video was edited by you, right? A lot of people thought it was great, even if most didn’t really get it~”

“I... I did that?”

“Well, Tomoya put your name as producer in the credits at the end.”

“...Tomoya?”

“My situation is different from yours. My grades are decent, I’m not in any clubs, never been class rep, or anything like that.”

Here it was again—that strange warmth, spreading slowly through Jiang Yu’s chest.

“I don’t have many friends, but I also don’t have the courage to make more.”

Every word Megumi wove together only stirred Jiang Yu’s emotions further.

“So it’s not just you—there’s a reason why people don’t remember me...”

“No!” Jiang Yu suddenly stood up, both hands planted on Megumi’s desk.

“Eh?...”

“Kato, you’re not plain at all!”

“Ah~ Jiang Yu, you should calm down and sit. It’s better,” Megumi said, indicating the curious gazes now directed at them.

“Right... Sorry, my bad.” Jiang Yu sat down as instructed, though the warmth in his chest remained.

It was a strange mix of frustration, indignation, and a refusal to accept her words.

“Kato, you’re not plain at all!” Though seated, Jiang Yu’s feelings were undiminished.

“Wh-why would you say that?” she asked, flustered.

“Because plainness itself is a striking trait! That alone makes you stand out as a character!”

“Eh~?”

“If you pile together all the ‘plain’ traits—few friends, braided hair, glasses, freckles—that in itself creates a powerful presence!”

“...Is that so?”

“I swear on the holy script, the holy soundtrack, and the holy animation—Kato, you’re anything but plain!”

“I’m not sure what those holy things are... And honestly, Jiang Yu, I don’t really get what you’re trying to say,” Megumi replied, shaking her head with a wry smile.

Jiang Yu felt his inner otaku spirit blazing.

Not plain, not flashy.

No distinct personality, no specific traits.

If he had to sum it all up in a single phrase...

“Kato, your character is just completely broken from the start!”

“...”

To elaborate—

“It’s just that your character isn’t vivid—neither here nor there!”

“...”

And, to put the final nail in the coffin—

“That’s why you don’t stand out at all!”

“...”

Megumi Kato stared in stunned silence at this familiar yet unfamiliar classmate, having received such a passionate, over-the-top critique.

How to put it? Her gaze grew even more bland than before; it was as if her face had become an utter blank, impossible for anyone to remember.

And then the bell rang, signaling the start of class, as the teacher entered with her lesson plan...