Rewrite Our Love? Too Late-Chapter 104: Let the World Witness Megumi’s Charm

"Damn right! Just a bunch of second-rate programmers sneaking into Laplace Corporation, and they dare to slack off!"

Yukima Azuma's voice echoed irritably within the car, loud enough to draw stares if they weren't already behind tinted glass.

From the driver's seat, Yukinoshita Yukino gave him a sidelong glance, lips curling into a faint, helpless smile. Despite the company's employee-friendly policies and flexible work culture, Azuma's sharp words sounded dangerously close to those of an overbearing CEO.

"They're waiting for the plan for White Album 2, aren't they?" Yukino said calmly.

It was obvious to anyone in the industry. White Album had deliberately left countless threads unresolved—an open invitation for a sequel. The first part told a melancholy university tale, but the second was where the true essence of galgame storytelling would shine.

High school—youth—longing.

The popularity of the first installment had been like a tidal wave, sweeping up fans and staff alike. The project's continuation was inevitable, even sacred in the eyes of those who had poured their hearts into it.

Yukima Azuma, however, had forgotten entirely.

"Umu, umu... then the plan for White Album 2 will have to be postponed a bit longer," he said, leaning back. "Everyone has their own lives. They can't just drop everything for this."

Yukino grew quiet for a moment. The two women handling the main script and illustrations were living under Yukima's roof. She knew that, of course. How could she not? She worked in the same company and lived in the same house. But in her eyes, nothing should have taken precedence over White Album 2.

Before she could say anything, Azuma spoke again.

"Kasumigaoka-senpai is finishing the final volume of The Metronome in Love—she's under a tight deadline. As for Eriri, she's drowning in fan requests. She had to delay her doujinshi because of White Album and now they're practically demanding blood."

He exhaled slowly. "They came together because of me, but I can't expect them to revolve their entire lives around me."

Yukino studied him quietly, her gaze softening.

"I see. Then tomorrow at work, I'll reassign some tasks to the electronics team," she replied. "It's clear now—you value people more than results."

That was what made him different.

In a world driven by capital, where success demanded relentless forward motion, most CEOs would ride the momentum like a snowball—only growing larger, unable to stop.

But Yukima Azuma wasn't swept away.

He advanced when he wanted to. At his own pace. Toward his chosen future.

The Demon of Laplace, indeed.

As the car pulled into the garage, he let out a small sigh. "Anyway, I've got something else to do."

"Oh? What's that?" Yukino asked, genuinely curious.

Azuma turned toward her with a helpless look.

"Write a light novel."

Yukima Residence

The moment he stepped into the house, Yukima Azuma felt it—the quiet, piercing stare.

He froze.

Ah... I didn't come home last night, did I?

Kasumigaoka Utaha sat on the sofa, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as she observed him. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.

But in the end, she said nothing.

Overreacting here would only create unnecessary tension—and she knew him well enough by now. Instead, she made a mental note in her little black notebook.

One day, she'd make him pay for it. In full.

"You told me to contact Fujikawa Publishing. I had Machida-san set up the meeting for tomorrow afternoon. Have you finished your draft?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Azuma scratched his head. "Uh... almost."

"So no."

"The deadline's not here yet. Still time."

Utaha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He was definitely mocking her. She just couldn't prove it.

"Well, I won't help with the story. That's your problem," she said, waving him off.

Azuma chuckled and changed the subject. "In July, there'll be a once-in-a-thousand-year comet. Let's go to Hokkaido to see it."

Utaha blinked.

Hokkaido. A comet. And him.

Not a bad combination.

Her heart lifted, if only slightly. "Sure. But... with all the storms lately, we might end up seeing nothing but clouds."

"This one's expected to clear up by late June," Azuma said. "The skies over Hokkaido should be perfect by then."

Utaha didn't say anything more. She simply nodded.

The Lonely Boy's Manuscript

Back in his room, Yukima Azuma opened his laptop and stared at the blinking cursor. His manuscript lay in front of him—an unwieldy beast that had gone through countless rewrites.

"The Youth of a Lonely Boy Will Not Dream of a Passerby Heroine."

The title had come easily. The content? Not so much.

But this time, something clicked.

A soft chime echoed in his mind.

Notification: Your Literature skill has increased to Lv7.

Yukima Azuma froze. Then slowly smiled.

He pulled up his system interface:

[Owner: Yukima Azuma]

Physique: 7

Intelligence: 8

Charm: 8 freeωebnovēl.c૦m

Skills:

Language Proficiency (Lv6)

Literature (Lv7)

Cooking (Lv7)

Programming (Lv4)

Shogi (Lv9)

Literature Lv7.

He closed his eyes. Waited. But... nothing changed physically.

Maybe Literature didn't offer some flashy transformation or superpower. Maybe it simply allowed him to write.

He reopened the manuscript.

And this time, it flowed.

The heroine—Kujou Megumi—was based on a real person, though the name was different to avoid unnecessary complications.

She was a girl of quiet strength, subtle expressions, and invisible warmth. Not flashy. Not dramatic. But once you noticed her, you couldn't stop thinking about her.

She didn't demand attention. She simply gave.

And because she existed so gently, her presence became unforgettable.

The story took shape: beneath the light of a comet, the world began repeating the same day, over and over—a curse of the Laplace Demon. Only one boy remembered each repetition, and only when he truly noticed the girl beside him did the loop begin to unravel.

It was a metaphor.

For youth. For regret. For the people we overlook.

By sunrise, the manuscript was complete. Six hundred pages of his soul.

"The Youth of a Lonely Boy Will Not Dream of a Passerby Heroine."

He stared at the title and whispered:

"At any rate... let the world see Megumi's charm."

Then, exhausted, he collapsed to the floor and fell asleep.

(Pro tip: If you want to wake up in four hours, sleep on the floor. You'll wake up naturally. Don't ask why. Just... unhealthy wisdom.)

A Quiet Morning

Kasumigaoka Utaha rose earlier than usual.

She descended the stairs quietly, slippers barely making a sound. She paused at his door, cracked it open.

Sure enough, there he was—sleeping on the floor, manuscript by his side.

She sighed softly.

He really was hopeless.

Remembering the meeting later, Utaha walked into the kitchen. It had been a while since she cooked. Could she still do it?

She pulled out some eggs.

The first omurice was a failure. The second? Almost perfect.

She wrapped it in a thermal bag.

Then turned to her phone, looking up tea brewing methods. Coffee wouldn't work—Lonely-kun wasn't used to it.

She followed the guide step by step. Her fingers turned pale from rinsing in cold water.

At last, a barely passable cup of tea.

The alarm rang.

Utaha dried her hands, noting the swelling in her fingertips. She curled them slightly—no one needed to see that.

Then, with practiced grace and silent footsteps, she walked toward Yukima Azuma's room.

With breakfast in one hand, and quiet concern in her heart.