021. Youthful Delight

Putting an end to his aimless thoughts, Jiang Yu turned again to Google, searching for light novel publishers beyond the handful of top-tier and first-rate labels he’d already considered. Yet most of the others proved either too small in scale or limited in distribution channels. Some belonged to large publishing houses, but it was clear their efforts weren't truly invested in light novels, focusing instead on manga or other genres considered more “orthodox” by the public.

Unable to settle on a choice, Jiang Yu switched off his phone screen and prepared to take care of his nightly routine before bed.

Yawning as he passed through the living room, he was startled to see a faint glow where darkness should have reigned. Quickening his pace to the entrance, he found the PS4 aglow with its LED, the television casting the room in light, and—seated before the screen—a girl wrapped in a hamster cloak, utterly absorbed in her game.

Jiang Yu silently crossed to the light switch, and with a click, the room was flooded with brightness, the faint hum of electricity accompanying the shift. The girl, caught up in the game, squinted at the sudden glare, hastily pressing the START button on her controller before turning toward the switch.

There, Doma Umaru met Jiang Yu's expressionless gaze.

Her face froze. Slowly, she shut off the PS4 and television, then headed straight for her bedroom, as though nothing had happened.

Jiang Yu couldn’t help but laugh at her careful movements and futile attempt at denial. As his little sister tiptoed past, he called out, “Umaru, when does your school start?”

“Ah! I—I start tomorrow!” Umaru stiffened, turning to face him, her head bowed, voice barely audible.

“Sigh… School starts tomorrow and you’re still up this late playing games?” Jiang Yu pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“I’m sorry, Onii-chan…” Umaru admitted her guilt, making no attempt to argue.

“You were still on break the last few days, so I let you be. But now that school’s starting, you need to go to bed on time, all right?” He patted her head gently.

“Ah… y-yes.” She nodded, still looking down, muttering just loud enough for Jiang Yu to hear, “And you, Onii-chan, aren’t you up as late as I am every night?”

Jiang Yu’s mouth twitched. Was she doing this on purpose, little sister?

“…Ahem, anyway, just don’t stay up so late from now on.” Left with no easy retort, Jiang Yu coughed awkwardly to change the subject.

Umaru looked up, her adorable face breaking into a mischievous smile. “Yes, yes, Umaru understands~”

Jiang Yu’s pretense at coldness was already wavering, and faced with that teasing smile, it all but melted away. He sighed inwardly; perhaps Umaru truly was his nemesis.

Shaking his head with a smile, Jiang Yu flicked her forehead with his index and middle fingers and said seriously, “From now on, let’s keep each other in check. No more staying up late during the school term—deal?”

Umaru froze, hands still halfway to her forehead in feigned distress. Then her expression blossomed into a radiant smile. She nodded vigorously, delight shining in her eyes.

“Mm—!” The charming girl before him was all smiles and laughter.

Jiang Yu responded with a warm smile of his own.

Perhaps, in that moment, this was a happiness that the passage of time could never erase—a joy unique to youthful days, shared between brother and sister.

…

After this little episode with Umaru, Jiang Yu found himself wide awake, despite having finished his nighttime routine. He sighed and shook his head at the irony, his motions swift and practiced.

Once more, he opened his computer, ready to embark on another night of “cultivation.” In his heart, he apologized silently to Umaru.

I’ll start going to bed early… tomorrow. He wasn’t sure he believed himself.

Opening the Word document for “My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected,” Jiang Yu hesitated for a moment, flexing his hands before ultimately deciding against writing further. After all, only two chapters remained in the first volume; at a rate of one chapter a day, he’d finish soon enough. There was no urgency.

He closed the document and opened RC, intent on working a bit more on “The Witch’s House.” He hadn’t yet decided when to release the game, but finishing it as soon as possible couldn’t hurt.

So began another two hours of scene creation. He refined the preliminary map for the first act, adding text descriptions to interactive objects.

The most crucial character models still needed to be made from scratch, and Jiang Yu hadn’t even drafted them yet. He could only, late at night, use the software’s default models to build things like forest paths, castle corridors, and hall frames.

Moreover, Jiang Yu realized he wasn’t particularly adept with digital art programs. In the past, a like-minded otaku friend—rumored to major in art—had helped refine his drawings. Jiang Yu’s contribution was limited to rough sketches, not terrible but not outstanding, which he would color and annotate before sending to his friend, who would produce the finished piece on the computer.

Given that, he’d need to buy a scanner or a graphics tablet. With a scanner, he could draw by hand, scan it in, and color digitally. A tablet would let him draw directly on the computer—quicker, but requiring him to master a skill he’d only dabbled in before.

He still hadn’t decided which approach to take, but either way, his wallet would be stretched even thinner.

Was he truly destined to imitate ancient sages, living in poverty and contentment, like Yan Hui with his humble meals and rustic dwelling?

No, let’s not kid ourselves. Jiang Yu put an end to his wild thoughts.

The quickest path forward—aside from asking his family for money—was to publish “My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected” and earn some profit.

So, after his thoughts circled through countless neurons and neurotransmitters, Jiang Yu found himself back where he’d started.

He hadn’t forgotten about the BGM and sound effects, either. RC’s built-in music library could handle the basics, but for the original music needed in “The Witch’s House,” he’d have to compose sheet music and find someone to record it. His predecessor had some musical skill, but wasn’t a genius with every instrument. As for Jiang Yu himself, he was merely a casual listener at best.

And beyond “The Witch’s House,” he still had to finish the project proposal for “Steins;Gate” by next week…

Regrettably, not only did he have to write the game proposal, he also had to handle the scripting and post-production animation.

How did he end up with so much to do!?

(╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻ (table flip)

┬─┬ノ('-'ノ) (putting the table back)

(╯°Д°)╯︵┻━┻ (? flipping it again)

Jiang Yu howled internally, his eyes dull with fatigue.

Glancing at the clock—almost three in the morning—Jiang Yu closed his laptop and stepped to the bedroom window, opening it for a breath of cool air to calm his mind before sleeping.

After all, he’d need a clear head not only for school the next day, but for writing novels, making games, and drafting proposals.

Come to think of it, wasn’t it odd that, for our protagonist, these “side activities” seemed more important than schoolwork for an ordinary high schooler?

Looking out into the darkened street, feeling the brisk wind, Jiang Yu’s mood slowly settled.

Just as he was about to turn in, his phone screen lit up with a LINE notification—a message from Tomoya Aki.

“Ah~ maybe you’re asleep already, A Yu? But I’ve been watching late-night anime till now (cry-laugh emoji). I’m worried I’ll forget by tomorrow, so while I’m still awake, I wanted to ask: are you free this Saturday? I’m going to Akihabara to do some shopping—want to come along?”

Sorry, Tomoya, I’ve let you down; I’m still not asleep at all. Jiang Yu’s weary sarcasm surfaced once more.

He didn’t reply, simply set his phone on the bedside table, lay down, and soon drifted off into sleep…