Chapter 119: Did You Really Write This?
A "literary novel."
A genre far beyond what a high schooler's life experience could ever handle properly.
If this had been a fantasy,
A light novel,
Something imaginative and fun—
She might have been hopeful.
But this—
A literary novel?!
Literary fiction was a genre that couldn't be done well without a deep and expansive personal life experience.
If an author lacked real experiences to back up their writing,
Then the story would feel shallow, like words without weight, drifting like a rootless leaf on the water.
Simply put, literary fiction is fundamentally about reflecting social phenomena and realities.
Without life experience, it is impossible to write it well.
In literary fiction, realism comes first.
Only after that does artistic refinement matter.
Yet here was Minami, a seventeen-year-old kid,
A boy who probably had no idea how expensive gas, rice, oil, or salt could be.
How could he possibly write a good novel?
Even if a writer had enough experience and knowledge,
If their writing skills were not solid, if their storytelling lacked depth,
Then they would still fail to produce a good literary work.
This was the threshold of literary fiction.
A far cry from light novels,
Which were meant for entertainment above all else.
And honestly—
This wasn't just about Minami.
Hiratsuka Shizuka could say it with confidence:
Anyone lacking age and life experience,
Would struggle to write meaningful literary fiction.
Even those so-called "once-in-a-millennium literary prodigies",
Or the "genius young novelist R-san",
Hiratsuka had bought their books before—out of curiosity.
And yet, after reading just the first page,
She never felt the need to read a second.
Because their works weren't about reflecting reality through storytelling.
Instead, they were just flashy words,
Arranged into something resembling a novel—
Nothing more.
At their core,
There was no real literary substance.
If anything,
Instead of forcing themselves to write unconvincing novels,
These so-called literary prodigies
Would be better off writing essays.
Because if nothing else,
The ability to pile up pretentious, flowery sentences into a book,
Was still a kind of talent.
So when Hiratsuka saw that Minami's piece was a novel,
Her first reaction as a literature teacher,
Was complete silence.
She glanced at Minami.
Then at Ishikawa Kento.
At that moment,
She was already mentally preparing how to comfort Minami later—
Specifically, how to gently and politely suggest
That he give up on novels and try writing essays instead.
Because honestly—
A high schooler writing literary fiction?
It was a joke.
But for now—
She'd at least take a look.
The mature, thirty-something teacher let out a sigh.
Even if she knew it wouldn't be good,
It was still something a student had worked hard on.
Even when a certain dead-fish-eyed student at her own school wrote angsty rants about society,
She still read them carefully before giving her opinion.
Holding the manuscript in her hands,
Hiratsuka's eyes fell on the title.
The Girl Hidden Within the Azalea Fields
Hiratsuka began reading.
"The one I love is gone."
"I will be alone forever."
The opening lines.
A monologue from the protagonist.
And just from these first sentences,
Hiratsuka was already surprised.
There was no excessive flowery language.
There was no pretentious poetic embellishment.
Just calm,
Simple,
Straightforward words.
At the very least—
Hiratsuka let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Minami might lack life experience,
But at the very least, he understood the importance of literary technique.
A story did not need elegant, flamboyant language to be compelling.
Strong, simple prose and deep, resonant storytelling
Could move people's hearts just as much.
However—
Even if she acknowledged Minami's restraint,
That alone wasn't enough to convince her.
A high schooler writing a novel?
She still had doubts.
So she didn't say anything yet.
Instead—
She kept reading.
And as she read on—
She suddenly realized something.
She couldn't tear her eyes away.
The protagonist's encounter with Komako—
Moved her.
His short-lived separation from Komako—
Pained her.
His return to loneliness after she was gone—
Left her aching.
And when he finally resolved to search for Komako—
She felt genuine joy for the character.
But in the final moments—
When the protagonist searched endlessly,
Yet never found the person he loved—
A deep, suffocating sense of loneliness and despair
Quietly consumed her.
"She's already gone… I suppose I'll never find her again."
The protagonist in the novel spoke these words.
And even though Hiratsuka Shizuka was only a reader,
Standing outside of that fictional world,
She could still feel it.
The pain of love lost.
The regret of something once within reach—
Only to disappear forever.
She reached the final page.
She closed her eyes.
A storm of emotion churned within her chest.
But the heaviest, most crushing feeling of all—
Was this:
"I'm nearly thirty years old…
And I've never even dated anyone."
A single tear slipped down from the corner of her eye.
Setting down the manuscript,
Hiratsuka muttered in a voice so soft,
It was almost pitiful.
Even the protagonist of this novel—
An emotionally clueless, painfully dense fool—
Had still met the love of his life,
Komako.
But her?
She had nothing.
Every night,
She returned to a cold, empty home.
She drank her beer alone.
And that was all.
At that moment,
A deep, indescribable ache welled up from her heart.
A wave of sadness and frustration
Swelled to the surface.
And with it,
Came a reckless, unstoppable impulse—
"I want to fall in love."
A real love.
A deep, passionate, romantic love.
Just like the one in this novel.
A fateful encounter with someone,
A love story that would be beautiful,
That would consume her whole heart.
Yes!
She should confess to someone right now!
No hesitation!
Romance was fleeting!
As an adult, she couldn't afford to be a coward!
"I don't want to be alone forever!"
"I need to act fast—
even if it means making a move on a student—"
"LIKE HELL I WOULD!!!"
Hiratsuka shot up from her seat,
Vigorously shaking her head.
With great effort,
She forcefully shoved all thoughts of "confessing to someone",
"not wanting to die alone",
And "wanting a grand, passionate love"
Out of her mind.
Only when she calmed down did she let out a relieved sigh.
However—
"P-P-Professor Hiratsuka…?"
A trembling voice came from beside her.
It was only then that Hiratsuka realized—
Ishikawa-san and Omiya-san
Were both staring at her—
With extremely disturbed expressions.
And honestly,
Who could blame them?
They had watched as she sat there reading Minami's novel,
Only for tears to start rolling down her cheeks.
Then she had begun muttering to herself.
Then she suddenly jumped up from her seat.
Then she started shouting and shaking her head like a lunatic.
To anyone watching—
It looked exactly like a full-blown mental breakdown.
In fact,
Ishikawa had almost called an ambulance just now.
If Omiya hadn't stopped him,
Hiratsuka would have already been on her way to a psychiatric hospital for a mental health evaluation.
Especially Ishikawa—
He actually felt a deep sense of regret.
"Such a beautiful woman…
To think she has a serious mental disorder…"
"What a shame."
He hesitated, but eventually asked:
"Um… Hiratsuka-sensei… Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
Hearing the "pity" in Ishikawa's voice,
Even with Hiratsuka's thick-skinned maturity as a seasoned adult—
She couldn't help but feel embarrassed.
She coughed awkwardly.
"Are you sure?"
Ishikawa didn't sound convinced at all.
"I mean… Just now, I saw you—"
"I SAID I'M FINE, ISHIKAWA-SENSEI!"
"…Alright then."
Ishikawa didn't argue.
He simply took a step back.
"I believe you, Hiratsuka-sensei."
"..."
Hiratsuka fell silent.
Wait…
Did he just… literally step away from me?
Her eye twitched.
But as a mature professional,
She chose not to comment on it.
Instead,
She turned her attention back to the manuscript on the table.
Her earlier skepticism—
Her belief that Minami couldn't possibly write a decent literary novel—
Had completely vanished.
Now—
She truly believed.
She believed that true geniuses—
Really did exist.
Unlike Hiroi Kikuri,
Who could only repeat:
"Amazing! Amazing! So amazing!"
Hiratsuka Shizuka was different.
As a formally trained literature major,
Now a high school Japanese teacher at Sōbu High,
Her literary insight was on another level entirely.
She could clearly see that Komako wasn't just
The protagonist's beloved.
She was also a symbol—
A metaphor for the loneliness of modern youth.
She represented the desperate longing
That young people today have for something beautiful in their lives.
Yes.
Modern youth long for love—
Yet fear chasing it.
They dream of a better life—
Yet refuse to take the first step forward.
Instead, they live trapped in their own memories—
Romanticizing the past,
Imagining a Komako that they once had…
And mourning her for the rest of their lives.
This was painfully real.
Haven't you ever felt it too?
That one person you let slip away.
That one chance you never took.
That one moment that you can never get back.
And perhaps—
Just like the protagonist standing in that vast flower field—
They can only cry out to the heavens:
"It's gone! It's all gone!"
That which has vanished will never return.
Hiratsuka suddenly turned toward Minami,
And spoke.
"Minami-kun…"
"Did you really write this novel?"
"Hm? Is there a problem, Hiratsuka-sensei?"
Minami had actually been watching her this entire time.
He had seen her breaking down,
But at least she hadn't completely lost it—
So he felt relieved enough to answer her normally.
"No… It's not that there's a problem…"
Hiratsuka opened her mouth… then closed it again.
A problem?
To be honest—
Even with her high standards for literature,
She couldn't find a single flaw in this novel.
Minami's writing technique was not just solid—
Even the structure, the story,
The way he built emotion throughout the plot—
Everything was meticulously crafted.
And that was incomprehensible to her.
Minami Shouji was only seventeen.
A teenager.
What kind of life experience
Could he possibly have had—
To write something this deep?
Hiratsuka couldn't wrap her head around it.
She simply couldn't believe
That a boy not even old enough
To pay his own gas, rice, oil, or electricity bills—
Could create a novel of this caliber.
Yes.
This wasn't just some school project.
This was a real literary work.
"Then, Hiratsuka-sensei, since you've read it—"
"Do you have any critiques?"
Yesterday, Minami had dealt with the absolute disasters
At STARRY—
Hiroi Kikuri, PA-san, and Nijika's sister.
So now that he finally had a real adult to talk to—
A Japanese teacher no less—
There was no way he was letting this chance slip by.
"You're a literature teacher," he continued,
"You must have your own insights."
Hiratsuka froze.
A woman who had always been blunt,
A teacher who had never hesitated to roast her students' writing—
Was at a loss for words.
A problem with this novel?
To be perfectly honest—
She didn't even feel qualified to critique it.
The fact that this novel had made her cry,
Had made her feel so deeply—
That alone was proof enough.
That this novel, in her heart, was already a perfect score.
But since Minami had asked,
She thought about it for a moment,
And finally sighed.
"If I had to point out one flaw…"
Hiratsuka set down the manuscript,
Shook her head,
And looked at Minami with admiration.
"It's just…"
"For a high school student…"
"This novel is… too mature."
"Too perfect."
It was undoubtedly a compliment.
But more than that—
It was envy.
Hiratsuka had always been jealous
Of people with true literary talent.
Let's be honest.
Every high schooler dreams
Of having their writing be recognized.
Who wouldn't want their essays to be held up as examples?
Who wouldn't want their work to be worth millions someday?
But Minami…
His level was already beyond anything
She had ever seen from a student.
That was why she had asked him earlier:
"Did you really write this?"
Because in her mind,
It was just too good to be true.
Because…
Whether it was the writing style or the story structure—
This novel, The Girl Hidden Within the Azalea Fields,
Was simply too masterful.
It didn't feel like something a high school student could have written.
Those simple, unembellished sentences—
By the time she had read just a few thousand words,
Hiratsuka Shizuka was already completely absorbed.
And yet…
Every time she thought about the novel's themes,
Every time she remembered the protagonist's loss—
And then compared it to her own sad, boyfriend-less reality…
Her heart ached.
For once, even Hiratsuka,
Who had just been praising Minami's writing—
Had nothing left to say.
Instead, she silently pressed a hand against her chest.
Ah…
This hurts a little.
Maybe when today's visit is over…
I should go drink…
No…
I should drink a lot.
A single, lonely, approaching-thirty teacher with no boyfriend to speak of—
Could only console herself with alcohol.