Long ago, in the age when magic still existed in this world, the land was ruled not by humanity, but by vampires……
The vampires lived really long lives, they could cast a lot of really awesome magic, and you could cut them with a sword or whatever and they wouldn’t even die.
But one day, the king of the vampires fell in love with a human girl. A child was born between them, but he was bullied by both the vampires and the humans……
But one day, while this child was cutting grass in the mountains, he fell off a cliff, only to be saved by a mysterious man. The two wound up living together……
This man was actually the strongest vampire hunter, who came one step away from defeating the king of the vampires long ago, so the man taught the child all his skills.
The child grew over time, and he came to learn a whole bunch of magic.
Then one day, when he turned seventeen years old, the village the child was born in was attacked by a horde of monsters……
The child’s name was Ciel Godkaiser von Helsing.
He was a beautiful young man with silvery hair and crimson eyes, clad in a jet-black outfit, and he was the strongest vampire hunter, capable of using both holy and dark powers.
[…]
And so Ciel’s first battle came to an end.
But this was nothing but the opening chapter to a great, new legend……
✦ ✦ ✦
“Hee-hee-hee… I think I’ll stop there for today…”
With that declaration, the girl placed the stack of papers that contained her first novel—Evil Master of the Holy Fang, The First Episode: Beginnings—on the table.
“Whoa! That was so good! You’re a genius!”
“Hee-hee-hee… More, praise me more…”
The audience response made the girl smile, satisfied.
It was a day in mid-December, and the girl reading her novel to Shiori was Nadeshiko Kiso, age 14. She was dressed in a gothic-Lolita outfit and wearing a red-tinted contact lens in her right eye.
Having grown up around publishing companies and Itsuki’s apartment, gotten spoiled by professional writers and editors, and granted access to all the anime and nerd stuff she wanted, Nadeshiko had taken a liking to somewhat darker material around when she reached middle school. By her second year, she had been afflicted with that disease that affects many teens her age—a mixture of overinflated ego and abject naïveté.
She began to call herself the “†descendant of vampires†,” granting herself the self-styled “true name” of †Diansath “Origin” von Draculia†. Her grandmother (Yoshihiro Kiso’s wife) was from Romania, home of Vlad the Impaler, the real-life inspiration for Dracula, and apparently she saw destiny at work there somehow.
“I really love talking to you, Nadeko!”
“My name is not Nadeko. It is †Diansath ‘Origin’ von Draculia†… What do you like more—PreCure or my story?”
“PreCure!” Shiori instantly replied.
“Mmm. Do you like Aikatsu or my story more?”
“Aikatsu!”
Another prompt reply. It irked Nadeshiko, but not gravely so.
“Hee-hee-hee… Well, perhaps my tales are a tad too mature for someone your age…and being third behind PreCure and Aikatsu is hardly something to sniff at. I have all but conquered you, in fact…”
This forced logic was enough to convince Nadeshiko for now.
Nadeshiko had been coming to the Hashima residence regularly to read her novels to Shiori for the past half year or so. She had begun writing them at the age of ten, and whenever she read them to her grandfather Yoshihiro, not to mention GF Bunko members Satoshi Godo and Kenjiro Toki, they consistently showered her with praise. She’d let this go to her head a little bit, and now she was trying to become a professional novelist herself.
In her first year of middle school, she wrote her first full-length novel. Then, sensing the time was ripe, she submitted it to a new-authors contest—but, sadly, she was rejected in the first selection round. Fully convinced this was some kind of mistake, Nadeshiko marched right up to Toki and Godo at GF Bunko and had them read it again.
“Do you really want to be a professional writer, Nadeshiko?” Toki asked, trying to make sure as he skimmed her work.
“Hee-hee-hee… Yes, exactly…”
Toki and Godo exchanged looks, then turned back toward Nadeshiko.
“All right. In that case…I will provide you with a professional editor’s reply.”
“…!”
Nadeshiko fidgeted a little; the men were normally so jovial and loved praising everything she did.
Indeed, the feedback the two of them gave her was unforgiving. From the prose to the story and characters, nothing about this novel was near professional quality. It was perfectly valid to send this manuscript to the shredder in the first round.
And even worse:
“Since I know you personally, I gave you a special read this time around…but if you’re seriously aiming for a career in this business, you need to be submitting to new-writer contests, not going to us.”
The verdict from Toki left Nadeshiko tremendously disheartened as she left the editorial department. But back home, she recovered quickly. “They may be professional editors,” she told herself, “but they are barren, bereft of all emotion. There must be so many others who understand the value of this work!”
So she uploaded her story to a user-submitted web novel site. It received very few page views, and the few comments it received—“not interesting at all,” “the characters aren’t engaging,” “the writing is self-important and hard to follow”—were universally negative. That, finally, broke Nadeshiko’s heart.
The Internet is a scary place. They don’t understand that the person on the other side of the screen is an actual human being.
After that, she had stopped writing, and her life had descended into depression. But one day, Itsuki Hashima invited her over to visit. Her grandfather had apparently tried getting her out of her doldrums by having her old friend play with her for a bit. There, at Itsuki’s place, she ran into his real little sister Shiori, who happened to be visiting. Nadeshiko didn’t have a high opinion of her at first—this was the girl, after all, who was responsible for taking Itsuki’s attention away from her—but Shiori quickly took a liking to her, and they became friends.
When Shiori bugged Nadeshiko to read her a story, she decided to have some fun and read the work she published on that web novel site to her. But Shiori listened on and seemed to enjoy it. She had only just turned three years old at the time, and chances were she was enjoying Nadeshiko’s exaggerated gestures and manner of speech instead of actually comprehending the story. But now it was a fact—someone liked her novel. And that truly saved Nadeshiko.
Ever since, whenever she had a new work finished, she would march right over to Shiori and have her praise it to high heaven.
“Nadeko, boobies!”
Once story time was done and they all enjoyed a snack from Chihiro, Shiori begged Nadeshiko for some post-meal nursing, stars in her eyes.
“I told you, my name is †Diansath ‘Origin’ von Draculia†…”
“You’re a great writer, Nadeko! A big genius! Better than bro-bro!”
“Hee-hee-hee… Well, so be it…”
She laughed, in a good mood, then suddenly disrobed and revealed her pert breasts. Unlike her mentality, her body was pretty well developed for a girl of fourteen; she was tall, had a big chest, and the increasing tightness of her dresses was starting to distress her.
“Yahoo! Lick lick lick!”
“Hee-hee-hee… Ahh, you’re like a mangy mutt without any training… Nh… Ah… Hey, no, too intense…”
Being suckled like this, Nadeshiko resisted the urge to moan. What she didn’t realize was that Shiori had her pegged as someone who’d easily give boobie time in exchange for a little praise. At this rate, it might be some time yet before she made her professional writing debut.
✦ ✦ ✦
