Chương 19: Literature club (2)
Contrary to the bombastic and borderline cringe-worthy exterior, the reading area was unexpectedly pleasant.
It was a quiet retreat, far removed from the chaotic first impression I'd gotten from the club's facade. The design was minimal yet sophisticated, with clean lines and a cozy atmosphere that invited you to sit down and stay awhile.
Warm lighting bathed the space in a soft glow, and the faint smell of paper and ink added to the charm.
The shelves were neatly arranged, and the books were categorized with a precision that rivaled professional libraries.
Each section was labeled clearly, making it easy to navigate, whether you were searching for a light novel, a fantasy epic, or the latest Shonen manga. It was obvious that someone here cared deeply about maintaining this collection.
Still, as nice as the inside was, I couldn't help but grimace when I thought about the entrance. The over-the-top decorations and clashing colors screamed "amateur hour" in the loudest way possible.
It was like the outside belonged to a gaudy roadside attraction while the inside felt like a haven for book lovers.
"Why did the outside have to be so ugly?" I muttered under my breath, shaking my head in disbelief.
The clash between the garish exterior and the tranquil interior was almost comical, like two completely different worlds stitched together.
"Hmm," I murmured again, my thoughts drifting to the reason I'd come here in the first place. And as the pieces started falling into place, I began to understand.
Shinji loved novels. That much was obvious. There was no way he'd ever actually shut this place down—not out of spite, not even under pressure.
This reading room, with its calm atmosphere and neatly organized shelves, was the kind of place he would appreciate.
It wasn't just a club; it was a sanctuary, perfect for someone who wanted to lose themselves in the pages of a good book, far from the noise of the world.
A perfect spot for someone who values peace and immersion.
And then another thought crossed my mind, one that made me smirk despite myself. If someone wanted to stash something... less appropriate here, it would be almost laughably easy.
Among the endless rows of novels and manga, banned or questionable material could easily disappear, blending into the sea of spines and pages.
The sheer volume of books provided excellent camouflage, and I could almost imagine someone sneaking a peek at something risqué while pretending to read a classic.
I chuckled quietly at the thought, shaking my head again. "Shinji, you sly fox," I muttered, though whether it was admiration or exasperation, I couldn't quite tell.
But then, as the realization hit me, I froze. My thoughts spiraled into a curious and somewhat awkward direction.
Oh… so, uh… how could I find it?
The supposed erotic book Shinji might have hidden—how would I even begin to track it down amidst this labyrinth of neatly arranged novels and manga?
The sheer number of shelves made the task feel daunting, almost impossible.
My gaze wandered across the endless rows, each one meticulously packed with titles. The organization, while impressive, was now my greatest enemy.
I couldn't exactly start yanking books off the shelves in a frantic, careless search. That would be rude, not to mention it might draw attention from someone like Ayaka.
She'd probably leap to another dramatic conclusion if she saw me rifling through the club's collection like a mad woman.
And I definitely didn't want that.
I sighed, resting my hand on one of the shelves as I thought it through.
"Hmm," I muttered under my breath, the sound trailing off as I considered my options.
If I truly wanted to uncover the hidden treasure—or mischief—I'd have to take a more methodical approach. Slowly browsing through the shelves one by one seemed to be the only viable plan, but the sheer effort it would require felt overwhelming.
"Huh," I whispered to myself, slumping slightly. "That's... pretty hard."
The enormity of the task loomed before me, and yet, a small part of me couldn't help but be intrigued. A scavenger hunt in a sea of books? It sounded ridiculous.
But somehow, I couldn't entirely shake off the idea. It lingered, a small spark of curiosity that refused to be snuffed out.
In a strange way, the challenge seemed... fun.
The thought of uncovering something Shinji had hidden—whether it was a prank, a secret, or just an embarrassing stash—felt like the kind of mystery that could keep me occupied.
After all, it wasn't like I had anything better to do. I didn't have any real hobbies—nothing that truly filled my free time.
And right now, I have plenty of time to spare. The house would be empty at this hour—Mom was always working late, Shinji was busy with his duties, and Uncle Masanori was usually out doing whatever it was he did.
That left me with nothing but quiet evenings and an empty house to look forward to.
Maybe spending some time here after school every day wouldn't be such a bad idea. This place was calm, cozy, and just secluded enough to make it feel like my own little hideaway.
I glanced back at the shelves, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. "Alright," I muttered under my breath, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Let's see what this place got."
I ran my hand lightly across the rows of neatly arranged books, letting my fingers skim over the spines as I scanned the titles. My gaze settled on one that immediately caught my attention.
"Dead End for Tsunderes."
I pulled it from the shelf, tilting my head as I studied the colorful cover. The title was certainly intriguing, and if I remembered correctly, this novel had been quite well-received.
I had seen this book before, probably at the bookstore, but I never got around to reading it.
Back then, money was tight, and I had to be careful about what I spent on novels. It wasn't that I didn't want to read this one, but I had priorities.
I let out a small laugh, remembering my reasoning at the time. The newest volume of "Remaking It All from Scratch" had just dropped, and there was no way I could pass on that.
In the end, "Dead End for Tsunderes" had stayed on the shelf, untouched. And now here it was again, waiting for me in this club's collection, almost as if it had been patiently biding its time.
"Huh," I murmured, flipping it open and thumbing through the pages. "Guess I get my chance now."
Finding the most comfortable spot in the room—the secluded back corner with a cozy armchair—I settled in and opened the book.
The quiet atmosphere was perfect for getting lost in a story.
As I began reading, I couldn't help but grin at the familiar antics of tsundere characters. They were so predictable yet endlessly entertaining.
Man, I really did love them—the archetype, I meant.
There was something endearing about their prickly exteriors, carefully concealing their soft, vulnerable hearts. But, wow, they could also be such a nuisance.
They were never straightforward with their emotions, always complicating things with their constant denial and dramatic outbursts. It was like watching someone try to build a bridge while actively setting parts of it on fire.
Sometimes, they even lashed out at the people they loved the most. If the object of their affection was a normal, perceptive person, they might somehow manage to muddle through the misunderstandings and tantrums.
But when a tsundere fell for a dense brick of a person? That's when things got truly hopeless.
I paused, staring at the page as a bitter chuckle escaped my lips. Ah, I get it now. I really do.
I know what it's like to love a dense brick.
Shinji... whether he's pretending not to notice or genuinely clueless, I still couldn't figure out.
But he always acted oblivious to me. No matter how obvious I tried to make my feelings, it was like he didn't see it—or maybe he just didn't want to.
If I hadn't pushed myself into his life and forced him to see me, I probably wouldn't even have a chance.
I sighed, resting my chin on my hand as I let the book drop slightly.
The main character's struggles felt almost too relatable, stirring a bittersweet ache in my chest.
Though, unlike a tsundere, I wasn't one to hide my feelings behind stubbornness or outbursts. When I loved someone, I showed it—no hesitation, no games.
"I'm glad I'm not a real-life tsundere in love with the ultimate dense protagonist," I muttered softly, smirking at the absurdity of the thought.
If that were the case, it'd be an absolute disaster.
A tsundere's heart would shatter under the weight of all that unspoken longing. There wouldn't be another way for such a relationship to work—not unless someone intervened.
Typically, someone will.
But in this book, no one intervened. No one stepped in to bridge the gap between the tsundere heroine and the dense protagonist. And so, predictably, painfully, the main heroine lost.
It all unraveled in the very first volume, like watching a slow-motion train wreck you couldn't look away from.
"Huh, interesting," I muttered, turning the page with a growing sense of curiosity.
Despite the predictable tragedy, or maybe because of it, the story had a strange pull. The ridiculousness of it all was oddly captivating.
I wanted to see what happened next. Would she find a way to take him back, to reclaim what she'd lost?
Or would she fade into the background, her love story left unfinished?
Though, to be honest, I felt she deserved to lose. If you couldn't make it clear that you loved someone, then you left the door wide open for someone else to step in and take them away.
Love wasn't about fate or destiny—there wasn't some magical thread binding people together. It was all about timing, situations, and choices. If you didn't act, someone else would. That was just how things worked.
I leaned back in my chair, turning another page. "Let's see if you learn your lesson, tsundere girl," I murmured under my breath, my amusement growing with every twist of the story.
But then, just as I turned the next page, a sudden thud echoed from the opposite side of the room, drawing my attention.
"Huh?" I murmured, glancing up.
Across the room, a girl had just dropped her book and was bending down to pick it up. Something about her immediately stood out.
She had a presence that felt distinct, like she wasn't quite the same as the other students I usually saw.
Her short, fluffy hair was a soft, pale pink, reminiscent of cherry blossoms, and framed her face gently.
Her amber-colored eyes were striking, large, and vivid, with an intensity that gave her a sharp, focused look. At the same time, faint dark circles beneath her eyes hinted at exhaustion, giving her a slightly weary yet thoughtful appearance.
"Sorry for disturbing you," she said softly, her tone calm and polite as she straightened up with the book in hand.
I watched her for a brief moment, curiosity flickering in my mind. She seemed different, but then again, it wasn't like that really mattered. I was here to read, not to make friends or get involved with anyone.
So, I simply nodded in acknowledgment and turned my attention back to my book, determined to lose myself in the story again.
But just as I started to settle in, flipping to the next page, her voice interrupted me.
"Hmm, that book you're reading," she said, stepping closer. "Have you finished it yet?"
I looked up, startled by her sudden interest. Her tone was calm, but there was an unmistakable curiosity in her expression as her gaze flicked toward the book in my hands.
And I notice something.
She is holding a book called "Wuthering High."
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