After completing her purchase, the bookstore owner carefully placed the first-edition limited copy of Sword Art Online Volume 1 into a brown paper bag.

Then, she led Kotomi to the café area.

The owner set down the vanilla-flavored coffee and 50 caramel biscuits at a quiet, secluded corner table. The seating consisted of two small sofas placed closely together.

The arrangement of the chairs and tables was casual, which was a defining feature of this café. While seemingly random, the placement was designed to make the space feel comfortable and inviting. Achieving such an effect required careful selection of furniture styles, colors, positioning, and even consideration of the overall ambiance—including the café’s lighting, music, and decor.

“Thanks, owner,” Kotomi said gratefully.

Despite her frequent social mishaps, she wasn’t socially anxious. However, whenever she ate alone outside, she preferred sitting in a quiet, inconspicuous corner where she wouldn’t attract attention.

After all, if she were eating with someone, any embarrassment would be shared. But eating alone, especially with her appetite, was a different story. Even if there was no malice in strangers’ curious gazes, the thought of people watching her eat so much made her uncomfortable.

The spot the bookstore owner picked for her was perfect—peaceful, spacious, and hidden from prying eyes. It was so ideal that Kotomi even considered bringing her laptop here on Sundays to write.

It seemed like every writer enjoyed working in cafés. Kotomi had never really understood why before, but now it suddenly made sense.

It actually seemed kind of nice.

“No need to thank me. Enjoy your meal. I need to get back to organizing the magazines,” the bookstore owner said before walking away.

Owning a bookstore café might be a dream lifestyle for many, but only those who actually ran one understood how exhausting it could be. Despite the seemingly relaxed atmosphere, there were endless daily tasks to handle.

Even just maintaining the café’s coffee beans and brewing equipment required meticulous care.

After eating twenty caramel biscuits, Kotomi suddenly remembered something important. She quickly washed her hands, tidied up the table, and carefully arranged the coffee and a few biscuits on a small, elegant plate—creating a picturesque afternoon tea setting.

She made sure to move the large plate with the remaining biscuits to another table.

There was no way she was going to make it look like she ate that much in the photo.

A fragrant cup of coffee, a delicately arranged selection of caramel biscuits, and a perfectly positioned book.

Kotomi followed this composition as she set up the shot, selecting Sword Art Online Volume 1’s limited edition as the featured book.

She adjusted the angle, decided whether to use flash, and meticulously prepared every detail before finally pressing the shutter.

Just setting up the photo had left her sweating. She hadn’t expected food photography to be such a challenge. Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, she reviewed the image she had taken. It looked refined, elegant—exactly the aesthetic she wanted.

Sighing, she muttered to herself, “I never thought taking a stylish photo would be this much work… or this exhausting.”

No wonder those lifestyle vloggers on video platforms could wake up at ungodly hours—4 AM, sometimes even earlier—and still have the energy to maintain their disciplined, aesthetically pleasing routines.

Just setting up the perfect shot, arranging a picturesque table setting, and preparing a visually appealing but minimal portion of food must have been enough to force them into alertness.

Of course, Kotomi wasn’t referring to genuine study vloggers but rather those influencers who marketed themselves as paragons of self-discipline while secretly pushing ads and sponsorships.

She considered editing the photo, but honestly, she couldn’t be bothered. It was too much effort. In the future, she would just take a simple picture of herself holding the book and upload it to Twitter—that would be enough.

As for the kind of captions elegant influencers used—those polished, subtly flexing tweets in impeccable Japanese, sometimes sprinkled with English words—she sat in her chair, furrowing her brows, trying to come up with something fitting.

Damn it, this is harder than writing a 2,000-character essay! she thought, frustration mounting. Eventually, she gave up, opened Twitter, and simply typed:

-Sword Art Online Volume 1 is out! Yay! Hey hey hey, has anyone gone to buy it yet?*

Tweet sent.

Done.

Back to eating biscuits.

Why did I even overthink such a simple task? This whole “perfect aesthetic” thing just isn’t my style… Kotomi downed a sip of her vanilla coffee. The rich, sweet flavor instantly lifted her mood.

After posting the photo, a new thought popped into her mind.

Should I send Megumi a little gift?

Her cheeks flushed, but she decided to go for it. She placed the Sword Art Online novel on her lap, the pristine white stockings on her thighs creating a striking contrast.

With deliberate intent, she tugged her skirt up slightly, adjusted the angle, and snapped a picture.

Then, without hesitation, she sent it to Megumi via LINE.

As soon as the message was delivered, she quickly smoothed out her skirt, carefully placed the book back in its paper bag, and nervously glanced around.

Thankfully, she was the only customer in the café at the moment.

Or so she thought.

…

Crap!

Kotomi’s eyes darted to the side.

In another secluded corner, a woman sat reading a magazine—or at least, she seemed to be. Wearing a baseball cap and red-rimmed glasses, her hat was pulled low over her face, making her features difficult to discern. Her tied-up orange hair, however, bore a striking resemblance to a certain someone’s daughter.

Their seats, though both in corners, happened to be diagonally aligned.

Their gazes met.

For a moment, Kotomi couldn’t tell how long the woman had been watching her. But one thing was certain—she had definitely seen Kotomi’s entire “photo session.”

The realization hit like a truck.

She was about to make a smooth, nonchalant exit when the woman suddenly spoke:

“Kotomi, good afternoon!”

That voice—

Yuigahama’s mom?!

Halfway through standing up, Kotomi’s legs gave out, and she plopped right back into her seat.

To confirm, she took another careful look.

First glance: Looks familiar.

Second glance: Oh no. It really is her.

Japan was way too small.

Of all places, she had to run into Yuigahama’s mother in this bookstore café near her own home.

“Yuigahama… Auntie? Good afternoon!”

“Haha, I’ve been watching you for a while now. You looked so busy, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Yuigahama’s mother chuckled warmly. She removed her cap and glasses, set aside the magazine—holding it upside down, Kotomi now realized—and approached.

“Kotomi, mind if I sit with you?”

I would love nothing more!

Kotomi wanted to say that out loud but instead nodded politely, flashing her best well-behaved smile.

“Of course, Aunt Yuigahama, please have a seat.”

“Aunt Yuigahama, what brings you to this bookstore today?” Kotomi asked curiously.

This bookstore café was indeed close to the Izumi residence, but it was quite a distance from the Yuigahama household. Judging by location alone, it didn’t seem like the kind of place Yuigahama-san would visit on a whim.

Besides, there was another bookstore much closer to her home.

It had to be said—bookstores were among the most common establishments in Chiba City. Even an outsider unfamiliar with the area could wander around aimlessly and stumble upon multiple bookstores with ease.

“I really like the way the owner brews her coffee,” Tomoka Yuigahama replied with a gentle smile. “And she was actually my classmate back in middle school. Whenever I have the time, I like to stop by and support her business.”

“I still remember our first-year homeroom teacher asking us what we wanted to be when we grew up. She confidently answered that she wanted to open a bookstore café. It was such an unusual response that it left a deep impression on many of our classmates.”

“Sometimes, I envy her. Years have passed, everything has changed, and most of us have long abandoned the dreams we once held as students. But she? She stayed true to her vision and made it a reality—living independently, running her bookstore café all on her own.”

Tomoka’s voice carried a nostalgic warmth as she reminisced about her school days. Looking back as an adult, she found that the period she had once disliked was now a source of sentimental memories.

Why had she disliked it in the first place?

Of course, it was because few students truly enjoyed school life. Even the top students weren’t necessarily fond of studying. And back then, Tomoka was merely an average student.

“So the bookstore owner is a staunch advocate of single life?” Kotomi asked.

“That’s right. She’s always been firm in her belief—no dating, no marriage, just living life cool and carefree all on her own.”

“Now that I think about it, that kind of lifestyle does sound pretty relaxing.” Kotomi shrugged, finding the idea quite understandable.

In her past life as Ailun, she had entertained similar thoughts—choosing solitude over marriage. It wasn’t that she didn’t long for love or family, but the overwhelming burden of responsibilities had left her exhausted. After her parents passed away, merely surviving and carrying on had been an immense struggle.

Sure, she could have pursued a decent university education, but then what?

Juggling part-time jobs while studying, only to graduate and step into the brutal reality of the workforce—without parental support, she would have to face society’s harshest blows alone. Others who struggled could at least return home to vent their frustrations to their families. Those with better circumstances might even inherit a family business and never have to worry about job security.

But her?

She had no safety net, no one to confide in. There was no choice but to keep enduring society’s relentless beatdown.

If not for that fateful accident, what kind of future would she have had?

Graduating, landing a mediocre job, being trapped in a grueling 996 work schedule, barely scraping by even after ten years of hard work—owning a home would still be a distant dream.

Forget making it to 30; by 28, she might already have been let go under the guise of “talent circulation.”

It was suffocating just thinking about it. And if she dared entertain the idea of marriage? That was an even more daunting challenge. After toiling for years to save up, she would have had to hand over tens of thousands for a dowry. If the bride’s family was particularly demanding, they might ask for an astronomical sum—one she couldn’t possibly afford.

And even if she somehow managed to pass the dowry hurdle, the costs of a car, a house, jewelry, and wedding expenses would completely drain her savings.

And if she ran out of money?

Loans. Working tirelessly just to get married and start a family, only to be burdened with heavy debt. Each paycheck would barely be enough—covering loan repayments first, then carefully budgeting the rest just to get by.

In her second life, just imagining such a scenario made Kotomi want to cry. There was no hope in sight. If living alone was already this difficult, adding a spouse and children into the mix would only double the hardship. And if she had kids? Society’s relentless cycle of financial exploitation would begin anew, targeting her as the latest batch of “freshly grown chives” ready for harvesting.

So, Ailun had chosen to remain single. Earning for herself, spending on herself—free and unburdened. Why voluntarily switch from “easy mode” to “hell mode”?

Thinking about it this way, Kotomi suddenly felt grateful for that car accident.

In this life, she had no grand ambitions—just a desire to earn more money than she could ever spend and live happily with the woman she loved.

“Kotomi, are you zoning out? Talking to an old lady like me must be boring, huh?” Tomoka Yuigahama chuckled.

Kotomi snapped back to reality, shaking her head with a smile. “Not at all. I just got lost in some memories for a moment. Sorry about that.”

“No worries, we all have moments like that.”

Tomoka offered a warm smile before reaching into her paper shopping bag and pulling out a copy of “Sword Art Online” Vol. 1.

“Actually, I didn’t just come here to support my old classmate’s business and grab some coffee—I also came to buy the first volume of ‘Sword Art Online’! Haha, there’s always this rush of pride whenever I see my illustrations officially published in a novel, with my artist name on the cover.

Kotomi-sensei, would you sign it for me?”

The third person to receive Kotomi Izumi’s autograph was none other than Tomoka Yuigahama.

Kotomi took out her pen, readily agreeing. “Of course! But in return, I’d love to get an autograph from Hanayui-sensei~”

Tomoka thought for a moment, then grinned playfully. “I just had a great idea! How about we both sign the same book? That would make it extra special!”

Kotomi’s eyes lit up. “Oh, why didn’t I think of that? Hanayui-sensei, you’re a genius!”

After a few swift strokes of the pen, both Kotomi and Tomoka’s copies of “Sword Art Online” Vol. 1 bore the signatures of “Izumi Ki” and “Hanayui.”

“I’m totally posting this on Twitter later,” Kotomi declared. “These might be the only two dual-signed copies in the world!”

Tomoka’s gaze softened, her smile growing even more affectionate as she looked at Kotomi. In a gentle tone, she said, “Actually, a local bakery is getting ready to reopen, so I’ve been helping with the preparations. That’s why I haven’t had the chance to meet up with you until now. But today was truly fate—we just happened to run into each other here.”

“You were looking for me?” Kotomi tilted her head curiously.

Tomoka nodded seriously, her voice taking on a more earnest tone. “I rarely log into Twitter—usually only when I finish a new illustration and need to upload it.”

“That day, Yukinoshita-sensei asked me to log in and retweet the announcement about ‘Sword Art Online’ Vol. 1’s upcoming release. I logged in as usual, but then I saw a notification bubble with ‘999+’ unread messages.”

“I panicked, thinking something major had happened. But when I opened it, I saw that my follower count had skyrocketed from 10,000 to 80,000! I thought I was dreaming!”

“Then I realized—it was all thanks to you, Kotomi! Thank you so much!”

As she spoke, overcome with emotion, Tomoka instinctively cupped Kotomi’s small hands gently between her own.

For illustrators, determining commercial commission rates depends not only on skill and style but also on personal fame.

Recently, Hanayui’s followers on Twitter had skyrocketed like a rocket launch, and Kotomi’s influence played a significant role in this surge.

Thanks to this exposure, Hanayui had received numerous high-paying illustration requests from gaming companies. Additionally, Dengeki Bunko was considering increasing her commission rate.

These changes were things she had never even dared to dream of before. Her gratitude toward Kotomi was endless—she could probably spend an entire evening expressing it.

Kotomi smiled, feeling both happy for Yuigahama-san and slightly bitter about her own predicament. Hanayui’s popularity had soared overnight, but it had come at the cost of her own social dignity.

She had originally planned to get her parents to follow her official Twitter account so they could be proud of her accomplishments. But now… she didn’t even dare to mention Twitter to them, fearing they might stumble upon certain things.

And while it was fine for her relatives to know she wrote novels, under no circumstances could they find out her Twitter handle!

Otherwise… she might not have the face to visit her grandparents’ and extended family’s homes for New Year’s this year.

After all, she had retweeted and commented on far too many risky illustrations—deleting them all would be impossible!

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep