As an ordinary male student with little presence, who had never idolized anyone or felt any strong admiration or affection for celebrities, Sheffil had no idea what it felt like to revere or adore someone—let alone what it felt like to be the one admired.
Though he had bought some fan-made comics starring Dorothy—what the fan club usually called doujinshi—he had to admit…
They portrayed Dorothy far too modestly.
The proof?
Dorothy herself treated those comics like casual reading material whenever she came over.
Sometimes, she even poked fun at overly innocent storylines, wondering if the artists had misunderstood her character.
“When the girl’s practically got ‘Devour me now’ written on her face, how could she possibly stop there?” she’d complain.
Granted, she was firmly on the “harem romance” team and had always supported stories where she was the core of a pure-hearted harem.
Sheffil would usually knock her on the head and reply, “If you wanna dream like that in broad daylight, at least lie down and take a nap first.”
But Dorothy was too much of an outlier to use as a standard reference.
So Sheffil turned his attention to someone else involved—the ever-stoic “Jianle.”
For both personal and petty reasons, he really wanted to see what kind of expression she’d make upon discovering that strangers were out there fantasizing about her doing this and that to her closest friends.
And, of course, he looked forward to witnessing the author’s embarrassment when their wild imaginings were exposed to the subject herself.
“Hm, sounds like it’s really written that way. Should we check it out?”
Sheffil gave a slight smile, nodding toward a booth in the distance as he made the offer.
“Alright then.”
Jianle glanced at him.
Her instincts told her Sheffil was up to something—but since they were just out for fun, she was curious to see what sort of mess he had in store.
The two crossed the street, one after the other, and approached the booth.
Business looked good—despite it just being early evening, only a few doujinshi remained.
On the cover, Jianle was shown gazing lovingly down at Dorothy, pinning her underneath, with one leg tangled around Dorothy’s bewildered expression.
Sheffil chuckled and walked up to the stand.
“Hey, buddy, how much for one of these?”
The black-haired boy behind the booth looked up at him briefly, then lowered his gaze again.
“Fifty rubles a copy.”
“Whoa, that steep?
Is it guaranteed sweet romance?”
“I sell pure love comics.
You think I’d give you twisted angst or knives?”
“Fair enough.
I’ll take one.”
Sheffil pulled out his wallet and, glancing back, noticed Jianle approaching, peering at the comics.
Her face darkened visibly.
“How about this one?”
The booth owner asked, pulling a fresh, unopened copy from the bottom of the stack and handing it over—just as he looked up at Sheffil… and the girl beside him.
“Huh? What?”
“Am I hallucinating?”
The black-haired boy blinked hard.
He looked at the comic in his hand, then at the girl in front of him, rubbed his eyes, then checked again.
“Why would Jianle show up at my booth to buy a Dorothy x Jianle doujinshi?
I must be dreaming.”
“What is this?”
Jianle spoke up—though whether she was asking Sheffil or the booth owner, it wasn’t clear.
“As you see—Dorothy x Jianle!!! I Want Little Dorothy to Be My One and Only Witch~ (All Ages),”
Sheffil said cheerfully, pulling the comic out of the stunned vendor’s hand, stuffing 50 rubles into it, and tearing off the plastic wrap.
“Wanna read it?”
“Give it to me,”
Jianle snapped, snatching the comic from him.
She barely flipped through two pages before her golden eyes were filled with disbelief.
“Uh, wait—”
The booth owner seemed to come to his senses, his hands twitching as if he wanted to stop her from reading further.
But Sheffil blocked his path, grinning.
“A sold book is like spilled water—no taking it back, right, pal?”
“Hey, isn’t that Jianle over there?”
“Jianle?
Where?
Oh crap, it really is!”
“Isn’t she standing in front of Xiao Ke’s booth?”
“I thought he was selling… oh no…”
“That’s rough.”
“Seriously rough.”
As fellow doujinshi creators, they knew too well the humiliation of having your fantasies discovered—and thoroughly reviewed—by their very subjects.
Especially when the subject was someone as famously cold and mysterious as Jianle… who was now being portrayed as a closet pervert with possessive, yandere energy.
Someone had already called security from North Street.
Not everyone could separate fiction from reality.
Now and then, someone upset with how they were portrayed would cause a scene—or even physically attack the vendor.
That’s when the guards had to step in and calm things down, “inviting” both parties to the station for a nice chat—hopefully before anyone got hurt.
Even with that, North Street had records of extreme incidents in the past.
Usually, works this over-the-top and delusional were sold discreetly through underground channels.
But the sheer number of Dorothy x Jianle doujinshi—and the fact that neither girl ever commented on them—had made the fanbase explode unchecked.
Still, being indifferent was one thing.
Being directly confronted with it was another.
Especially when—
The nearly 6’3″ guy standing next to Jianle clearly wasn’t the friendly type.
That had to be her bodyguard!
Smack.
Under a suffocating silence, Jianle flipped through the final page of the not-so-thick doujinshi.
“So this…
this is what you people think of me and Dorothy?”
She shoved the comic back into Sheffil’s hands, her expression as foul as if she’d just swallowed a handful of bugs.
“You invited me here just for this, didn’t you?”
“Haha, come on. Isn’t it interesting to see how others perceive you?”
“Not at all.”
Jianle slapped his hand away coldly.
“Tomorrow. Third Training Ground. Bring Dorothy. If anything comes up, have her contact me.”
“And just so you know—I don’t believe a word you say.”
With that, she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked off without another word.
Sheffil and the North Street crowd simply stood there, watching her disappear down the road.
“She’s mad~”
Sheffil sighed.
“She’s definitely mad,”
The black-haired boy let out a breath of relief, feeling like he’d survived a disaster.
“Looks like Jianle doesn’t enjoy this kind of theme, huh, bro?”
Sheffil rubbed the doujinshi thoughtfully, chatting with the vendor.
“Uh, shouldn’t you go explain things to her?
She looked seriously upset.”
“Explain what?”
Sheffil blinked at the guy’s shocked face.
“Aren’t you the one who drew this Dorothy x Jianle stuff? Shouldn’t Dorothy be the one to step in now?”
“Huh? What?”
The vendor’s face paled even more, making Sheffil raise a brow.
Something seemed off about this guy.
Claude stared at the stranger in front of him and made a silent judgment—this man might be mentally unstable.
His sister might draw these comics just to satisfy her personal tastes in the virtual world,
But this man?
He was taking fanfiction and inserting it straight into real life.