Uneasy daily life

This child is easily startled and reacts very strongly; it's hard to tell if he's introverted or extroverted.

Mai Sakurajima softened her tone and smiled, "I've done similar things before, mainly to earn money for my family. What about you? Why did you form a band?"

"Ah..." Goto Ichiri lowered her head, a little puzzled. Could the other person also be in a band? Not used to asking directly, she answered somewhat awkwardly, "For fame and popularity..."

“It’s easy to understand. Without popularity and viewers, there’s a sense of isolation and disappointment from not being recognized,” Mai Sakurajima said softly. “But in this day and age, fame and popularity can be achieved entirely online. There’s no need to form a band and perform in real life, is there?”

Σ(⊙▽⊙"a! Has my identity as a guitar hero been exposed?

Lost in thought, Goto Ichiri began to speak, and the rest of the words flowed naturally: "Ah, online, you can't become a popular figure at school... If you're not popular, you can't make friends... Well, um... Anyway, there's no way... Cheer up..."

Hmm? Isn't there something wrong with this? Where's the logic between being outgoing and becoming a popular figure on campus? Where's the logic in that?

Mai Sakurajima blinked.

"As expected of a Pro Warrior, he won't play anything less than the highest difficulty, and he won't play anything that's not challenging enough." Bai Ying gave a thumbs up. "We'll definitely come to cheer you on on the day of the official performance!"

Hmm? This is a great opportunity!

They're coming to see the show, so they'll definitely need to buy tickets, which will allow us to meet our ticket sales targets!

“Ah, that…”

Goto Ichiri's mind raced!

Language is profound and complex; how should I express myself tactfully at this moment?

"Are you buying tickets?" This tone suggested a hint of doubt that the other person might not come.

Will you buy tickets? This sounds like someone suspecting that the other person isn't buying tickets to see the performance.

Buying tickets? Who would understand that?

"Shall I give you the tickets?" "No, no, we have to collect money from selling tickets. This money needs to be handed over to Hongxia, and then Hongxia will hand it over to the store manager!"

Do you want to buy tickets? I have tickets, do you want to buy them? Buy my tickets? I'll give you the tickets, you give me money? Buy tickets? Give me money?

The arrangement of the words created a vortex that swept over the pink creature.

"I remember the tickets for the Stars are two thousand yen, right?" Mai Sakurajima took out her wallet, looked at Ichiri Goto who was holding a handful of tickets and whose expression was changing in various ways, and said with a smile, "Give me two."

The moment the other person pulled out their ticket and suddenly became lost in their own world, it was immediately obvious why. Although I wasn't quite sure how performance halls and bands survived, such difficulties inevitably arise in the economic society, it's just a matter of how they manifest themselves.

"Hai!"

Goto Ichiri snapped out of his daze, pulled out two tickets and handed them over, then belatedly added, "Ah, it's only 1500 yen."

"You're really lucky to get a discounted price... Is it for the August 14th show? I'm really looking forward to your performance, see you later."

Mai Sakurajima accepted the two tickets, got up, and quickly chased after the white figure that had already walked away.

"Ah, oh..."

Goto Ichiri scratched his head in confusion, looked down at the three tickets he had left, and an exclamation mark slowly appeared above his head.

I just received the task, and before a day has even passed, I've already sold two tickets?

Could it be that I have an extraordinary talent for sales? Am I the ultimate salesperson who can sell something with just a few words and a smile?!

Bang! An exclamation mark exploded above my head!

Goto Ichiri quickly pulled out his phone and entered the band's chat group.

[Boqi-chan: I've already sold two tickets.]

Hey Hey……

Goto Ichiri raised her bright smile, thinking that she might be able to sell all the tickets easily without having her parents buy them to make up the numbers.

I'm so amazing! I'm sure I can become a cheerful girl, hehe...hehehehe...

……

……

The train back to Fujisawa City in Kanagawa takes only about half an hour to reach your destination.

As night deepened, there were many empty seats on the tram, and not many people in the entire carriage.

"Hate Fan, a timid and cowardly person, can muster up the courage to try his best for his goal, no matter how absurd or embarrassing it may be..."

Mai Sakurajima looked at the row of empty seats opposite her and said softly, "Courage can be quantified, and it is definitely as heavy as fear."

As soon as she finished speaking, she turned to look at the white figure. The reporter had once commented that her eyes were deep, but no matter how deep they were, they couldn't escape this guy's scrutiny, could they?

"I will not save you."

"I won't rely entirely on you to save me."

The two spoke in unison.

Mai Sakurajima gave a cryptic laugh.

"That's right, that's right. Relax, life's big events are just dreams."

The white-clad figure spoke eloquently about Mai Sakurajima's affairs after her death: "In short, I will keep your house carefully and try my best to leave some mementos for me to place on the shrine. If she has passed away, it will be a bit difficult to leave her ashes behind..."

One foot stepped on the white figure's toe and ground it down.

Mai Sakurajima wore an unusually relaxed smile: "I worry all the time about when I will disappear, when I will die, how much time I have left, and where the solution is... Because of this, I inevitably cling to you as my lifeline, to the point that I have nothing to do and feel bored—I'm really ugly."

Bai Ying glanced at Sakurajima Mai and commented, "Actually, she's alright."

碾！

"Don't interrupt people's conversation, you hater."

Mai Sakurajima glanced at someone indifferently, put her feet down, leaned back in her chair, and whispered, "When life seems like a candle flickering in the wind, profound desires become so clear... I guess I really do like acting, even if it was just something to make a living at first, even if I suffered a lot of repression and pain while supporting my mother."

Now that I'm separated from my mother, I might encounter incomprehensible dangers, and I don't know when I might 'die'...

In such a terrible, troublesome, and even helpless, near-desperate situation, dreams shine brightly and become prominent in one's heart.

"If everything goes smoothly, I'll probably choose to make a comeback, this time for myself..."

"Mmm-hmm." The white figure nodded repeatedly, looking expectant. "So when are you going to learn to meow like a cat?"

Mai Sakurajima: #!

Repeatedly crush it!

"Hey hater! Let's take a picture later!"

Sakurajima Mai grinned through her teeth and said, "I'll put your picture on the shrine when I get back!"

"You actually came up with such a brilliant plan?!"

Bai Ying was startled. He turned around, his expression solemn, revealing the look he had when taking his ID photo: "Since you've opened up, I won't pretend—come on, bow. If you bow less than 90 degrees, I'll get angry."

"Since you've already treated me like royalty, I'll definitely have to bow to the photo."

Mai Sakurajima tilted her head slightly, her anger turning into a mocking laugh: "Hate fan, I'm feeling a bit complicated right now. Can you describe it?"

"Um--"

Bai Ying stroked his chin, observing and analyzing.

"It would be so frustrating to have this guy jumping around in the world while I'm dead."

"It's good to know!"

War tramples!

He rubbed someone's toes, venting his anger slightly.

Mai Sakurajima fell silent as she pondered her thoughts. She turned her head to look at the scenery flashing past the train window, calmly reflecting on the conversation that had just taken place.

This guy is really...

"If I make a comeback, I'll teach you to meow like a cat."

"Words alone are not enough; you need to put a written agreement!"

"Okay, okay, I'll give you a written agreement when we get back."

Mai Sakurajima rolled her eyes, finding it somewhat amusing.

This is probably what hope and expectation are...

When a mother gives birth to you and decides to raise you single-handedly, is this how she feels?

I'm stuck, really stuck, because this is the last day of the month, and I can't take leave procedurally. In other words, if I skip today, I won't get full attendance.

The leave request for next month cannot be used to make up for this month's leave, so I still have to update. I will probably update a chapter of 4,000 words around 6 pm.

Then there's the issue of the overall plot. To be honest, I envisioned the solo rock scene being placed later, but my mind was too empty, so I just wrote whatever ideas came to mind. As a result, Mai Sakurajima, who should have been a very important character, was portrayed rather poorly.

Trying to grasp at a straw—but the straw is held tightly and not grasped—understand this, let go of cowardly dependence, and face the suffering you are facing.

As a result, the process was written too vaguely, the white shadow's repeated efforts to avoid being caught were described too abstractly, and Mai Sakurajima's changes in mentality could only be forcibly expressed through words.

Hmm... After a brief review, I'm going back to writing and trying to fix the messed-up main plot.

Ah, I really want a time-stopping machine.

This way, I'll have plenty of time to build up a backlog of drafts, so you can all cheer for the author of Tentacle Monster.

...Fuck!

If I had a time-stopping machine, would I use it to write?

Chapter Seventy: The Craft of Companions

Three straight, undulating scars, resembling earthworms, are etched on his chest, looking at first glance like the claw marks of some wild beast.

The bespectacled man stared thoughtfully at the photo, his lunchbox untouched.

"If you're not active in eating, there's something wrong with your thinking."

A middle-aged man with a stubble beard and long, messy hair, reminiscent of street art poverty, sat across from me, shoveling rice into his mouth, and not forgetting to look up and flash a sly smile: "The great writer got writer's block?"

The bespectacled man pushed up his glasses, glanced at the other man indifferently, and said with a slight smile that was both polite and rude, "My inspiration is inexhaustible and my creation never stops. It's not for you, a charlatan, to comment."

"I heard you were talking badly about the regimental commander, and he caught you."

"It's just a strategic lose-lose situation."

"The commander wants you to write a script so bad it can serve as a cautionary tale?" The middle-aged man chuckled and encouraged, "Write it well. When it's finished, I'll definitely point out the flaws in the script, analyze it thoroughly, and scrutinize it strictly. If the word count doesn't exceed the word limit of your script, then the criticism is inadequate. You'd better hurry up and finish it. I'm eagerly awaiting it."

"I've been quite busy lately."

The bespectacled man calmly replied, "My traitor asked me to analyze this photo for him. I'm preoccupied with worldly affairs and have no time for creative work. The responsibility doesn't lie with me."

The middle-aged man glanced at the photo of the chest scar: "Oh~ Xu Bai asked you about it?"

return?

Did that traitor ask everyone? Did he send it to the leader? Will my excuse for delaying updates give me away?

The bespectacled man asked, "What was your answer to him?"

“A pale gold color appeared on the left side of the crystal ball. According to the Five Elements theory, the White Tiger of the West belongs to the metal element and is associated with killing and warfare. Weapons are instruments of violence, so the divination result is—” The middle-aged man raised his hands up and down, his expression turning serious and profound, “This injury was caused by the energy of a blade. The perpetrator must have superb skills and be a master!”

"Bullshit."

The bespectacled man offered a sharp critique, then said thoughtfully, "In my opinion, this is clearly a wound inflicted by fate. If we can't find any causal logic in the present, then this causal logic could be in the past or it could be in the future; I lean more towards the future..."

"This serves as evidence that the person in the photo, driven by unease and curiosity, strived to understand why he was injured, gradually becoming a scientist who was misunderstood and detached from society. He chose his dream over love, using research to escape the pain of a broken relationship; he chose his dream over family, becoming penniless and unable to support his parents or repay their kindness, burying himself in research and enduring the torment of guilt; he was ostracized by factions within academia, misunderstood, and labeled as mentally ill, yet he continued to fight loneliness in the laboratory through exploration until he was forcibly driven away."

"Ultimately, he suffered a mental breakdown, ripped open his clothes, revealing three scars on his chest—three mysteries that had fascinated and tormented him throughout his life..."

"He raised a dagger and attempted suicide..."

"He used his dagger to forcefully cut open the first scar, blood gushed out, a fresh wound formed, and the scar disappeared."

He froze, then quickly cut open the second scar, and the situation was exactly the same as before—a new wound appeared, and the old scar disappeared.

"He laughed and cried, tears streaming down his face, as he slowly and carefully cut open the third scar, clearly seeing the whole process. His long-standing confusion was finally completely resolved. This key was like the apple that hit Newton on the head, unlocking everything."

The bespectacled man's tone gradually rose, and he described with great enthusiasm: "Blood flowed, and the pulse of life was waning. In his final moments, his soul was filled with happiness and satisfaction. He looked at the dilapidated house, at box after box of research results. Now, as long as he left behind a key, this knowledge would be transformed into wealth and honor—the wealth of others, the honor of the dead."

"He succeeded, he succeeded? His success only makes his lifelong failure seem even more tragic! What injustice and grievance this is... Love has long been broken, leaving only the right to offer blessings; loved ones have long since passed away, leaving only the pain of remembrance; friends have become strangers, leaving only the burden of loneliness; life is about to end, and success will be meaningless."