“Don’t attack them,” Himegami protests. “We can’t afford to mess up here. Okay, Eriel? Understand?”
“There is no need to worry, Master. I would never do anything that would expose you to danger.”
“I know. And I’m really happy you’re so frustrated on my behalf.”
“M-Master…”
I watch as they gaze at each other. It seems like, one way or another, participating in the death game has strengthened their bond.
Now that we’re on the same page, it doesn’t take long for the isolated space to collapse. Sound returns to the world.
According to my neighbor, the two of them have managed to survive this long despite their weakness because global authority figures know we’re using them as spies. In that case, I hope they can accept a little bit of coercion as the price for their continued survival.
With the Tokyo recording studio right before our eyes, an isolated space appeared—a fact I only learned from my neighbor after everything was resolved. I understood on a logical level that what occurred inside the space was reverted when it collapsed, but having been outside this time, I found myself doubting that anything had happened.
My neighbor told me that she’d encountered the Disciple Himegami and his angel Eriel inside the space. In a surprising turn of events, Himegami was also a VTuber invited here for today’s recording. Obviously, when they got near each other, it triggered the start of a death game. However, she’d convinced him to go home without it coming to blows.
I couldn’t help but feel bad for the two of them, given their position. But this was part of the angel-demon proxy war, so there was nothing I could do.
We’d gone to a nearby café and were enjoying some tea as my neighbor explained the situation. Abaddon did more than half of the talking; my neighbor was even quieter than usual. The tea was delicious, especially considering it was an independently run place we’d chosen on the spot without looking up any reviews.
Eventually, we headed back toward our destination. The studio was much bigger than any I’d seen before. The recording space was about the size of a school classroom, and cameras were positioned all around it. Several large screens hanging on the walls stood out to me. The actors probably used them to keep an eye on their 3D models as they performed.
The adjoining control room was full of audio mixers and other equipment covered in knobs and buttons. Staff members were already standing around inside, busily operating the devices. They could see into the recording space through a glass window at the front of the room.
Both areas had a single door leading out into a hall with chairs, tables, and vending machines. I imagined the hall was used as a kind of break room. We stood outside the recording area, waiting for things to begin.
“What?! Kuon isn’t coming?” “He says he’s sick. Apparently, he was almost here when he suddenly threw up.” “Is he gonna record his part separately?” “But this goes live tomorrow! He won’t have time.” “What’s gonna happen with the script?” “Will they delay it?” “They say they’re checking with the higher-ups, and we should wait for now.”
Nearby, I could see staff members with grave expressions, probably due to Himegami’s absence.
“I suggested three names in front of him,” said my neighbor, “and it seems he was the biggest one.”
“He was the one with the most subscribers when we looked them up on your smartphone earlier, right?”
“That’s right.”
We stood in one corner of the break area, feigning ignorance. But to be honest, I felt a pang of guilt. My neighbor and Abaddon were keeping conversation to a minimum; when we did talk, we did so in low tones so that nobody would get suspicious.
A short while later, the talents began to arrive, filling up the studio. It was getting crowded; people were standing all over, some eventually forming small groups and starting to chat. Several sat down around the table in the middle of the hall and began to make light conversation. I’d met a few of them at the talent agency office. They must have been the VTubers—the stars of today’s recording. The staff members were fussing over them, too. We watched it all from a distance, still chatting casually in our corner.
Eventually, the performers seated at the table moved; two of them got up and walked over to us.
“Good morning, Miss Kareki. I’m looking forward to working with you today.”
“Yep. Mornin’. Can’t wait to work together!”
They were both people we’d met at the office. The first one to speak was Reika Kihouin. She was wearing another gaudy outfit today: a long, pure-white coat covered in soft fluff over a jet-black dress. In her hand, she carried a bag made by a famous brand.
The second was Rolly Rolling. She looked about the same age as Kihouin but wore an archetypical gothic lolita outfit: a blouse with lots of black and frills. I could tell she was putting in a lot of effort. Perhaps her unique style of speech was part of her character image.
Ms. Kihouin’s last name was highly unusual for a Japanese person, and Ms. Rolling was definitely not foreign, so I had to assume Mr. Kuga had given us their stage names—the names of the 3D models they used to perform.
“Good morning to you both.” My neighbor bowed politely as she greeted them. Standing next to her, I followed suit.
Miss Kihouin instantly spoke up. “My, my, Miss Kareki, I thought this on our previous meeting, as well, but you’re a very fashionable person.”
“You think so?”
“Why, you’re wearing designer brands from head to toe! But the outfit is subdued enough that someone who didn’t know their stuff might not realize it. Take your shoes—they’re a new style that just came out this winter, are they not?”
According to my neighbor, her clothes had all come from Ms. Futarishizuka. Her closet had been filled up when she moved in. If my colleague had prepared my neighbor’s wardrobe, just as she had Lady Elsa’s, then it was likely everything was top-class. And it seemed that had piqued this woman’s interest.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but my family picked all this out for me.”
“Oh, yes, I heard from Mr. Kuga. You’re still a first-year in middle school, aren’t you, darling? You have no idea how envious I am that your family is so comfortable.”
It seemed Ms. Kihouin was the candid type. And as always, she was totally in character.
Ms. Rolling, on the other hand, showed a little more consideration. “Come onnn, Kiho. Be polite. I knowwwMr. Kuga told us all kinds of things about her, but we’ve barely talked to her yet. You can’t just start chatting about this or that without any warning. You’ll bother herrr.”
“But aren’t you interested in her family?”
“I’m really sorry, Karekiii. She’s not a bad personnn, it’s just…”
“No, I apologize for not being very talkative.”
Rolling was always smiling and seemed like a good person. That said, she was perfectly in character herself. Her words and gestures were just as exaggerated as her gothic lolita outfit. She sounded like a little kid—like if Ms. Futarishizuka used that joke tone of hers and then never turned it off. I wondered if Rolling spent all her time acting like this.
Incidentally, this was the first time I’d ever seen my neighbor cringe away from a stranger.
“But aren’t you interested, Rolling? Her family evidently hired her manager, too. Even people of our level don’t get exclusive managers. I wonder just how wealthy they are.”
“Looook,” said Rolling, turning to my neighbor, “you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, okaaay?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t actually know that much about my family’s affairs.”
As my neighbor conversed with her senpai, Abaddon and I watched and listened.
A short time later, a staff member walked over to us. He was a man in his prime, several years older than I was, and seemed twice as hurried as everyone else in the hall. I assumed he was the one in charge today. He went straight to my neighbor, gave a short bow, then spoke to her.
“Can I have a moment, Miss Kareki?”
“Oh, um, yes, sir. What is it?”
“I know this is sudden, but I was wondering if you’d like to stand in for Kuon, since he’ll be absent. We gave him a call, and he suggested you for the role.”
“Huh…?”
“No need to worry about the script—it’s already written.”
My neighbor gaped at the suggestion. The other two talents looked at her, equally shocked. “But I probably can’t use his script as is,” my neighbor pointed out.
“We can get it fixed up for you in a jiffy. Will you do it? This is a good opportunity for you, since you just debuted. It’s Kuon you’re standing in for, after all. You’ll have way more things to say, too.” The staff member gave her an affable smile. They must have been desperate to fill the unexpected vacancy—especially if this instruction was coming from management. “What do you think, as her manager?” he asked, turning to me.
“I’d like to honor her decision.”
All eyes shifted to my neighbor. She thought for a few moments, then nodded. “All right. I’ll do it, sir. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. Okay, everyone, let’s start retooling the script for Miss Kareki!”
At the man’s command, the rest of the staff got to work.