220 How Many Bedrooms Are There?

Hatake Gorou's grandmother was a resident of Itomori Town and kept a contact book listing all the residents' phone numbers and new addresses.

Among them was Yukino Yukari's.

The last listed address only went as far as Ehime Prefecture in Shikoku, along with a landline number.

Kyousuke called it.

The woman who answered was Yukino's mother.

Before he could even ask where Yukino was now, her mother was the one asking him questions.

She said that ever since Yukino had gone to Itomori, she only sent money back once a month and would call home only during the New Year or holidays, just to say she was doing fine.

Before Kyousuke could press for more, a man's angry shouting echoed from the other end.

Yukino's mother quickly apologized, asked him to please let her know if he found out anything about Yukino, and then abruptly hung up.

'Yukino, Yukino… where did you go?'

Sitting alone in his apartment, Kyousuke felt a pounding headache. That sweet, gentle girl was running away again.

He remembered Yukino once telling him: whether it was being badmouthed by classmates back home or the rumors that followed her when she returned to teach there, her father never once comforted or supported her.

All he ever said was, "Don't trouble others."

In that house, her only small source of warmth came from her mother but even when she was caught in the middle and couldn't do much.

He should probably leave it to his capable subordinates to track her down, or even hire a private investigator.

But knowing Yukino, if she were found that way, she'd surely run off again immediately.

That woman… he became a culinary god because of her, and she couldn't even show up to enjoy it.

Kyousuke felt equal parts frustrated and heartsick.

How had Yukino spent the last three years alone in Tokyo, when even food had no taste to him without her?

And where was she now?

Back when the residents of Itomori were relocated to Nara, Yukino had said goodbye to Yotsuba Miyamizu and the others, and boarded a train to Tokyo alone.

Though she wanted to see Kyousuke right away, she first went to Ginza.

With help from a store clerk, she bought the latest fashionable clothes and got a full-body beauty treatment.

Only then, full of anticipation, did she head to the address Kyousuke had given her:

701, Bachelor Apartment, No. 49 Sendagi, Bunkyo Ward.

When she knocked and no one answered, she went to a café downstairs with a clear view of the entrance and waited.

Finally, after drinking far too much coffee, she saw the man she had been longing to see.

Even though she'd only seen him in hazy dream-like visions, she recognized him instantly.

That level of handsomeness—see it once and you'd never forget it. And that gentle smile, even on a different face, still sent her heart racing.

But… why did he look so young?

The black school-uniform-style suit—perhaps an ordinary person wouldn't have noticed, but Yukino's experience as a former high school girl and her sharp eyes told her immediately:

Kyousuke-kun was a student.

She had braced herself mentally before coming, but still…

Outside the school gate, Yukino politely asked a student on disciplinary duty if they knew Kyousuke.

She asked directly because she knew—someone like Kyousuke-kun would be a standout anywhere.

And just as she expected, the answer made her even more despairing.

Kyousuke wasn't just popular—he was their club president. As soon as the students heard she was his friend, they eagerly told her everything they knew.

After thanking them, Yukino headed to a nearby family restaurant.

As she passed the entrance, girls from the local schools walked by, their pleated skirts swaying, their laughter crisp and bright.

She lifted a hand and gently touched her face.

There, faintly reflected in the window, was her own image. Her fair, delicate features still looked young. Her large, dark eyes were full of innocence, and her lips were a soft pink.

'How old do I look?' Could she pass for under 25?

With a sigh, Yukino propped her chin on her left hand and absentmindedly stirred her coffee with a straw in her right.

She had imagined that once she came to Tokyo, she'd be living with Kyousuke—cooking meals for him, washing and ironing his clothes, helping him dress each morning.

Maybe they'd take evening walks together in the neighborhood park after work...

Yukino, are you planning to run away again? Where to this time—Kyushu? Or maybe overseas?

She took a small sip of coffee.

The rich taste of caramel and milk brought a moment of bliss, and her dark mood began to lift.

Not this time.

Or at least… she wouldn't run far.

So she'd stay in Tokyo, give herself a chance. If— if they could meet again...

As she stepped out of the restaurant, the morning sun at 9 a.m. cast a warm glow on the cherry blossom trees lining the road.

A gust of wind scattered the pink petals like springtime rain, and Yukino spun freely beneath them.

Her white skirt lifted slightly, revealing graceful ankles and pale calves.

Having made her decision, the world felt warmer.

Meanwhile, Kyousuke's life was thriving.

The release date for The Devotion of Suspect X had been finalized, with an initial print run of 500,000 copies.

In Japan, books generally come in three sizes: hardcover/special editions (tankanbon), "shinsho" format, and pocket-sized bunko editions.

The tankanbon, around A5 size, came in hard and soft covers, priced at roughly ¥2,000 and ¥1,500 respectively.

The shinsho versions were smaller and cheaper, and the bunko even more compact and affordable.

Typically, a novel first comes out as a tankanbon or shinsho. If it does well, a bunko edition is released three years later a process known as "bunkoka."

Per his contract with the publisher, Kyousuke would receive ¥150 million in royalties from just the first print run—after tax.

With the new deal signed, and profits from previous volumes and merchandise, his bank account had swelled to over ¥400 million.

And according to the publisher, that number would keep growing.

"If it were up to me, I'd print a million copies right away! This kind of book should be read by everyone in Japan!"

At the celebration party, the publisher's executive raised his glass, face flushed, shouting with enthusiasm.

Beside him, Shimomura Tetsuya toasted repeatedly.

Judging by their energy, they wouldn't rest until everyone on Earth owned a copy of Kyousuke's manga and novel.

A million copies meant one in every 120 people in Japan would own his book. Just the thought sent a chill down Kyousuke's spine.

He'd started this to gain social status, but the idea that his book might sell a million, 1.5 million, even two million copies…

Anyone he met could be someone who once cried into their pillow because of his novel.

His stomach twisted at the thought.

Maybe he should write more healing stories in the future. Though honestly, The Devotion of Suspect X had its own kind of healing, didn't it?

Maybe some suicidal young readers would find hope, dreaming of meeting their own "Miss Yasuko." Maybe those on the brink of giving up would think twice.

No wonder writers were held in such high regard in Japan. He'd contributed to society, hadn't he?

A few days later, Kyousuke once again visited the editorial department of Weekly Shonen High.

This time, the meeting was about the anime adaptation of Attack on Titan.

Since he had promised to retain the animation rights himself, all negotiations were being handled through the magazine.

"No way, absolutely not. How can a crucial character like Mikasa Ackerman be handed over to a complete rookie with zero voice acting experience?"

BOX Animation's executive director, Taira Tatsunori, who had been all polite moments ago, was now shaking his head firmly.

What was going on here?

The company had told him that Kyousuke was a once-in-a-generation genius.

That is why he, the company's executive, had come in person to show their sincerity. But now, just listen to this absurd request.

"Even for you, Kyousuke-sensei, that's asking a bit too much," he said, turning to Editor-in-Chief Shimomura Tetsuya from Weekly Shonen High.

When a writer starts losing touch with reality, isn't it your job to bring them back down?

"Haha, have some tea, have some tea," Shimomura said cheerfully, refilling their cups.

"This is a special blend the company president gave me. I usually don't even dare open it."

"I know it's a tough ask," Kyousuke replied with a calm smile, raising his cup. "But this is my only request for the anime."

Taira frowned.

This wasn't just "a bit" unreasonable.

No experience, no training, not even a single credited role and he wanted a complete amateur to voice the lead in Attack on Titan, one of the biggest productions in years.

Did this kid even understand how serious animation production was? The resources it took?

"Well, would you look at the time. It's already lunch," Shimomura interrupted smoothly.

"Taira-san, Kyousuke-sensei, I've reserved a private room at a fancy restaurant nearby. Let's have a proper meal and a few drinks though for Kyousuke-sensei, it'll have to be something non-alcoholic."

"I still have to report back to the company," Taira replied, standing up. "Let's save the meal for next time." He smiled and shook their hands politely.

"Looking forward to working together, Kyousuke-sensei."

"…Yeah."

Once Taira had left, Shimomura came back from the elevator, dabbing sweat off his shiny forehead with a handkerchief.

In just two years, possibly thanks to managing a phenomenon like Kyousuke, he'd visibly gained weight.

But then again, it took a certain caliber to become Editor-in-Chief.

"Kyousuke-sensei, BOX is even willing to let you invest directly into the production committee," Shimomura said with a wry smile. "What more do you want?"

"I've already made myself clear," Kyousuke said, sitting calmly on the sofa. "I want my friend to voice Mikasa Ackerman. That's non-negotiable."

"Huh? I thought that was just a bluff to get more negotiating power."

"It's not. The whole reason I kept the animation rights was for this."

"…I see. But forgive me for being blunt, Kyousuke-sensei but outside of some struggling studios desperate for funding, no animation company is going to agree to this."

"I appreciate your concern," Kyousuke replied with an easy smile. "But if it comes to that, I'll just start my own animation studio."

Was this the true power of Kyousuke-sensei?

The way he said it—like starting an animation company was no harder than baking cookies—made Shimomura feel a deep awe.

The rumors that Kyousuke had become an all-around expert during the production of One Punch Man were starting to sound real.

Talent alone could make people jealous but someone like Kyousuke, who not only had extraordinary gifts but also worked harder than anyone else, could only inspire admiration.

"So this was the plan all along? That's why you studied animation so seriously?"

"Not exactly," Kyousuke replied. "If they'd just agreed to my request, I wouldn't be doing all this work myself."

Becoming a stressed-out CEO or company president had never been in his plans.

When the time came, he'd bring in professional managers and just make the big decisions himself.

In fact, he needed to push Kisaki harder to become a proper right-hand man.

He hadn't brought Kisaki today because he already knew BOX would reject his request outright.

Meanwhile, The Devotion of Suspect X hadn't even hit shelves yet, and the publisher had already started their publicity blitz.

They'd even brought in a moderately famous director for some added hype.

———————————————————————

"Massive news! A movie adaptation announced before the book even hits stores!"

———————————————————————

Was it really unprecedented? Who knew. Still, in interviews, the director praised Kyousuke's work with passionate sincerity:

"Before this, I never imagined one person's love could be so moving. I just hope I can capture even one percent of what Kyousuke-sensei has created."

He really meant it. Sure, he was paid for the promotional work, but if he could, he'd love to direct the film himself.

Unfortunately, the only reason he was even approached was because his name was well-known and his rates were reasonable.

No one was seriously considering him for the movie.

———————————————————————

"A single stroke from the soul! A love that shakes the heavens!"

"Kyousuke, the greatest mystery writer since Seicho Matsumoto!"

"Next winner of the Edogawa Rampo Prize—guaranteed!"

———————————————————————

Kyousuke was finally experiencing the stark contrast between the worlds of literature and manga.

There was no fear of going overboard—they'd hype him to the moon and back.

They were already predicting literary awards before the book was even on sale.

At this rate, the prize committee might as well start copying their review blurbs from magazine headlines.

He'd considered releasing Sword Art Online next, but he didn't want the editors to use the hype around Suspect X to start another round of over-the-top promotion.

He'd rather keep the name "Kyousuke" associated with pure mystery fiction.

Still, he did advertise the new book on his personal site, EGOIST. Efficient and effective—just his style.

Of course, praise always comes with criticism.

In a culture that reveres seniority like Japan's, a rookie strutting out with such bold fanfare was bound to attract backlash.

The big-name mystery writers stayed quiet, but plenty of minor authors—whether genuinely annoyed or just looking to ride the controversy—started attacking him in columns and magazine articles.

Regardless, the explosive success of The Devotion of Suspect X seemed inevitable.

And Kyousuke finally understood why Japan's traditional literary authors held such lofty status and why their love lives, however scandalous, were rarely condemned by the public.

It was partly due to Japan's unique culture… but also because of the sheer social impact of a great writer.

Even before release, a single book could stir a nationwide sensation. If even half the hype came true, the reality would be almost too much to imagine.

Despite how much One Punch Man and Attack on Titan were earning him—easily several times more than those third-rate writers trashing him in the internet—Kyousuke still lagged far behind them in terms of influence.

But, just as the publisher had predicted, by the end of the second school term, all 500,000 first-edition copies of The Devotion of Suspect X had sold out.

The very same critics who'd scorned him before quickly changed their tune, turning their mockery into praise.

When it came time for the reprint, the publisher used their connections to bring in a slew of renowned authors to write promotional blurbs, those eye-catching lines printed on the book's obi (paper belt).

The biggest, boldest one read: "A masterstroke of misdirection!"

High praise for a mystery novel, and it came from none other than Numata Yuya—a legend in modern Japanese mystery fiction and three-time recipient of the Edogawa Rampo Prize.

The book's success also had a tangible effect on Kyousuke's personal life.

Beyond random girls stopping him on the streets of Bunkyo Ward for autographs, it gave a serious boost to his house-hunting efforts.

In Japan's luxury residential market, money alone isn't enough.

Cultural cachet matters just as much. It's not just about amenities what matters most is whether any famous people have lived there before.

And if someone famous died there?

Even better. It becomes what's known as a "final resting place", instantly inflating land value.

Such properties don't become hard-to-sell "stigmatized homes"—on the contrary, depending on the deceased's fame, the house might even be turned into a memorial.

In a strange way, it's as if people believe that living in such a place lets you absorb some lingering aura of greatness.

Now officially a "renowned author," Kyousuke had become a walking asset to property value.

According to Kisaki Tetta, listings that were previously locked down tight suddenly became available to them.

Their options expanded dramatically.

Over spring break, Kyousuke returned home and took part in the traditional hatsumōde (New Year shrine visit) with his family, trudging through the snow.

Back in Tokyo, he spent the remaining days narrowing down his final house choice.

With less than six months before he needed to move in, and renovations to consider, time was just barely on their side.

Kisaki Tetta accompanied him on the first day, he'd been waiting almost three years for this.

"Come on, Kisaki, this garden's way too small," Kyousuke said.

They were standing near Komagome Station in Toshima Ward, in front of a two-story traditional Japanese home.

"Small!?" Kisaki pointed at the clearly 50-square-meter garden, visibly baffled.

"There's no stream to raise fish, and only room for one cherry blossom tree. Any more would make it cramped. Just look—it's tiny," Kyousuke said as he scanned the area and counted off its shortcomings.

"You don't want a garden. You want to build your house in a forest!" Kisaki snapped.

"Hahaha."

"I should've known better. If you wanted a proper Japanese-style home, we should've gone to Kyoto. In Tokyo, you should be looking at luxury condos."

"Next one, let's go."

Anime often shows protagonists too poor to afford food living in spacious suburban homes. That's a misconception.

While Japan has permanent land ownership, most detached houses (ikkodate) aren't villas—they're just small private homes.

And there's a big difference: All villas are ikkodate, but not all ikkodate are villas.

Most are cramped, with low ceilings, tiny rooms, narrow stairs, and a footprint of only about 60 square meters.

Still, there's an upside—since the land is privately owned, you can wait until some wealthy real estate developer offers a hefty buyout.

But a true villa is more like the one Kyousuke was looking at now: over 400 square meters of land, with 200 square meters of building area.

It had high walls, a grand gate, and from the street, only the tips of maple trees peeked over the fence—pure luxury.

Now they were standing on the border of Bunkyo and Toshima wards, in the Mejirodai area—one of Tokyo's premier upscale residential zones, known for its long list of famous former residents like Kikuchi Kan and Kubota Utsubo.

And, yes, many had died there too—making it a prime feng shui location.

Of course, as someone with unrivaled talent, Kyousuke wasn't interested in old ghosts, nor was he particularly swayed by the fact that the girls' university was just 400 meters to the left, or another all-girls dormitory 430 meters to the right.

"The garden and house are both 200 square meters. Finally satisfied?" Kisaki asked smugly.

He'd found this place after Kyousuke's novel launch.

The previous owner was from an old aristocratic family—broke, but still snobby enough to refuse to sell to commoners.

Kisaki had spotted the place earlier but couldn't get the property details due to that stubborn pride.

You couldn't miss the house if you tried.

It genuinely looked like it was built inside a forest.

Various evergreen trees towered over the two-meter walls, casting dense shadows.

Without the oversized garden, the inside might've felt too dark to even catch sunlight.

"Kisaki, how many rooms does this house have?" Kyousuke asked, looking up from the massive first-floor living room toward the second and third floors through the open atrium.

The living room alone was about 40 square meters with a ceiling high enough to play badminton.

Next to it was an open-concept kitchen and a long hardwood dining table.

On the other side was a tatami room, and the garden-facing side had huge floor-to-ceiling windows—terrible for insulation, but perfect for a view.

A wide staircase led upstairs, clearly connecting to a whole set of rooms.

"Rooms?" Kisaki blinked. Wasn't the garden the whole point!?

Look at that stream fed entirely by well water, and it was clean enough to drink straight from the source.

Look at the path paved with polished river stones, walking barefoot on it felt like a massage.

The bamboo grove, the pine tree, the deer-scarer fountain... everything was perfect. And now you're asking about rooms!?

"There are ten bedrooms, three storage rooms..." Kisaki pulled out his phone and started reading the specs.

The real estate agent was waiting outside while the two toured the place alone.

"Perfect. This is the one," Kyousuke said, cutting him off.

He'd seen other houses with beautiful gardens, but none had enough rooms.

This one had three floors and an attic—just a glance told him there was plenty of space.

"But... the price," Kisaki hesitated. The house was amazing, but that price tag was brutal.

That, plus the sheer number of rooms, was probably why it had sat unsold for so long.

"Is it more than 400 million yen?" Kyousuke casually waved his hand that was the budget he had set aside for buying a house.

"…"

Kisaki Tetta turned to look at his boss, the man who once had to rely on his subordinates just to afford a meal.

He had completely transformed.

"No, including all taxes and fees, it totals 350 million yen."

"Perfect. Thanks for everything, Kisaki!" Kyousuke gave his loyal companion a hearty slap on the shoulder.

Over the past three years, One Punch Man had published 12 volumes, with a total of 7 million copies sold.

Each volume averaged nearly 600,000 in sales.

Even after splitting the royalties with Eriri, Kyousuke still pocketed 175 million yen.

Attack on Titan had released 8 volumes and sold 4.5 million copies.

Since he only had to pay a modest salary to his blonde assistant artist, his cut of the royalties amounted to 225 million yen.

The Devotion of Suspect X had gone through two print runs, selling a combined one million copies.

With a retail price of 2,000 yen and a post-tax income of 300 yen per copy, that brought in another 300 million yen in royalties.

Add in some income from merchandise and other side streams—roughly balancing out his regular spending, gifts, and investments like Okudera Miki's restaurant and that left Kyousuke sitting on a hefty 700 million yen in his bank account.

This was why he had the confidence to not only buy a luxury house but also start his own anime production company.

Even if he never wrote another word, the royalty stream alone would be enough to live comfortably for the rest of his life.

Still, buying a house wasn't a decision to rush. No contracts were signed just yet.

That afternoon, Kyousuke headed over to Eriri's house.

The Spencer family was thrilled to hear he was planning to buy another property in Tokyo.

In an age where young people were embracing a "lie flat" mentality and avoiding mortgages, here was a young man who, after finally making good money, wasn't splurging but settling down.

Not only was he still attending school properly, he was steadily improving in every area.

According to their daughter, he even planned to co-found an anime studio with her in the near future.

To the Spencers, Kyousuke was just the best thing that had ever happened to their daughter.

They vividly remembered how, at first, he hadn't understood otaku culture at all.

But now that Eriri was diving into anime production, he was already making plans to build a studio.

If it wouldn't have been inappropriate, Mr. Spencer would've gladly offered to buy him a mansion himself.

"Aunt Sayuri, Uncle Spencer, we're heading out now"

Riding his motorcycle, Kyousuke took Eriri to the first property she had carefully noted down.

It was a quaint villa just 300 meters from the historic Kyu-Furukawa Gardens.

"What do you think?" she asked eagerly, stretching her arms wide in front of the entrance.

Her sky-blue eyes sparkled with anticipation.

She had picked this place with great care.

From the balcony, she could just shout and Kyousuke would hear her.

He could come over anytime.

After dinner, they could even stroll around the garden together, he did say he liked gardens, right?

It was perfect! And no need for him to take her home at night, either!

"It's a bit too small," Kyousuke replied honestly. "If my family visits Tokyo, I'd still have to find somewhere else for them to stay."

Eriri puffed out her cheeks.

'They could stay at my house! I have tons of rooms!' she thought.

But she knew Kyousuke would never agree, he was always impossibly stubborn when it came to certain things.

"The next few houses are farther out," she warned, flipping through her notebook. "Just so you're mentally prepared—this one is definitely the best of the bunch."

"Thanks for going through all this trouble." Kyousuke reached out and patted her on the head.

Her soft golden hair felt just as silky as ever.

He understood what she meant by "farther"—not farther from Funozaki Private Academy, but from her home and the Kyu-Furukawa Gardens.