Clang—
A jarring noise exploded across the ground.
“S-sorry everyone! Niya-chan accidentally dropped her microphone…”
After a brief moment of static, a voice mixed with shock and excitement once again spread throughout the venue through the loudspeaker system.
“The winner has been decided! Everyone! «UNKNOWN NAME WARRIOR» has defeated «WATER FENCER» despite having almost no visible LIFE POINT left! He is the first contestant to successfully advance in this year’s preliminary round of the lower-tier knockout! Congratulations! He earns one point!”
Familiar data cubes appeared in my vision before quickly disintegrating.
The world of BHAO faded away like disassembled building blocks, and what entered my sight once again was the simple, quiet Full-Dive Room.
Looking out through the transparent isolation glass, the entire arena seemed momentarily frozen.
Then the excitement began spreading outward little by little, with Niya-chan at its center.
“Some of you might not have seen it clearly earlier, and even Niya-chan isn’t entirely sure, but «UNKNOWN NAME WARRIOR» fired three light rays outward during the fight. Then, at the very last moment, those rays returned to the origin point and merged with the final strike! Four attacks hit at the exact same time, instantly emptying «WATER FENCER»’s LIFE POINT!”
Basically, she got it right.
Aside from not mentioning the core factor of “mirror reflection,” Niya-chan had almost perfectly replayed the entire process.
I gave a slight nod.
What truly decided the outcome wasn’t the Rainbow Light Staff itself, but the “mirrors” created by the Light Shadow Doll.
If the rainbow light rays were the blades, then the mirrors were the hands that gathered and redirected all that power.
Dawn Witch… This form really is mentally exhausting.
As long as the mirror angles were correct, the accuracy of the rainbow light rays could be pushed nearly to its limit.
But if the angle was off—
Under BHAO’s rules, there was no such thing as “friendly fire immunity.”
Hitting yourself was a completely reasonable outcome.
That was why, after playing this character, one really needed a proper rest.
“Come on! Let’s give a big round of applause for the winner, «UNKNOWN NAME WARRIOR»!”
The moment I pushed open the door of the Full-Dive Room, a wave of heat-like voices surged over me.
“He actually won? That legendary Tier 0 guy.”
“That fight looked completely different. Was he hiding his strength all this time?”
……
Seriously.
I had almost learned to automatically filter out these voices.
Winners were praised, losers were forgotten.
Judging everything by results—this logic was absolutely correct, yet something I could never fully accept.
—
—
After leaving the arena, I circled around to a secluded, quiet grassy area within the academy.
“This should be fine.”
The afternoon sunlight was soft and gentle. It had been a long time since I’d experienced this kind of free time without BHAO chasing after me.
However—
Tap.
My arm was suddenly grabbed.
“Who?”
Still not fully recovered from the exhaustion after the battle, I subconsciously turned my head.
“YO— Yae Yoruichi! I had such a hard time finding you!”
The energetic voice suddenly cut off mid-sentence.
Chiyo Haori stood in front of me, eyes wide open.
“Wow… You look even more lifeless in person than you did during the match.”
“Thanks to you, I just finished an extremely mentally taxing fight.”
I sighed.
Haori showed a carefree smile, then suddenly clapped his hands as if remembering something.
“Oh right, right! Yoruichi! I’m going to work part-time at the cultural festival later.”
“Part-time? Cultural festival?”
“Yeah! The maid café.”
He said it without any shame.
“I was chosen by the guys in my class, and the timing works out perfectly. Want to come check it out with me? You don’t have to buy anything. Just come and look around.”
I stayed silent for about two seconds before blurting out a question.
“Maid café?”
It wasn’t because I was seriously considering it—my brain had momentarily gone into standby mode, refusing to process reality.
I repeated it in a tone that tried to sound calm but was actually beginning to frantically retreat inside.
“Yeah.”
Chiyo Haori nodded without the slightest hesitation, even with a lighthearted sense of naturalness.
“What’s wrong? Your reaction makes it look like you heard some kind of irreconcilable worldview conflict.”
No, I really was experiencing a worldview conflict.
As someone with relatively conservative values, a low-energy lifestyle, and a natural wariness toward “actively exposing oneself by playing a specific trope character in public space”—
A guy going to work at a maid café.
I silently completed the second half in my mind.
And he said it with zero psychological burden, even a hint of pride.
“Don’t you think this is a little… um, embarrassing?”
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted it.
No matter how you looked at it, this was the kind of statement that could easily be taken as value-based oppression.
But Haori didn’t get angry.
He simply tilted his head, showing an expression like he was seriously thinking about it, even though he already had the answer ready.
“Why would I feel embarrassed?”
“…”
The counterquestion was too pure.
So pure that for a moment, I couldn’t find a smooth way to continue the argument.
“Wearing a maid outfit is just part of the job. It’s not like they’re making me stand on the street reciting my dark history.”
“Besides, rather than being ignored as just another ordinary student in my school uniform, I prefer the kind of looks that say—‘Ah, this person seems a bit different.’”
His tone was unusually calm when he said this.
It wasn’t a defense, nor was it showing off.
It was more like stating a fact he had long since digested, understood, and fully accepted.
…What a pain.
I had always been worst at dealing with this kind of person.
Not the type that forces others to understand them, but the type that had already calculated both “being understood” and “not being understood” into the equation beforehand.
“I just think…”
I looked away, staring at the shadow flattened by sunlight on the grass.
“You have way too high a tolerance for ‘self-exposure.’”
“Really?”
Haori smiled.
“Maybe it’s because I never had much expectation about ‘what other people think of me’ in the first place.”
That sentence hit me right in the heart.
Because that was exactly the same logic I usually used to comfort myself.
As long as you don’t expect anything, you won’t get hurt.
And now, it was being used more skillfully than I did by a guy who was about to work at a maid café.
“So?”
Haori seemed completely unaware of my mental exhaustion and smoothly brought the topic back on track.
“Want to come check it out with me? Consider it social observation.”
“Aren’t you the type who secretly labels people in your head and then reflects afterward, ‘Was I being too harsh?’”
“…”
Damn it.
How does he even know that?
I let out a long sigh.
This was no longer a question of whether I wanted to go or not.
It was a question of “if I refuse, I’ll probably toss and turn in bed tonight thinking ‘Did I avoid real-life interaction again?’”
The mental cost of refusing was far higher than actually going to the maid café.
“…Let me make one thing clear first.”
I raised a finger, my tone as serious as if I were drafting a temporary treaty.
“I’m only going to watch. I won’t guarantee any comments, I won’t participate in any interactions, and I won’t take responsibility for understanding the source of your happiness.”
“Of course, of course.”
Haori nodded vigorously.
“Just having you come along already makes me really happy.”
“Your ‘happy’ threshold is way too low.”
“Really? Maybe it’s because I’m good at finding satisfaction in small things.”
He smiled with complete openness.
And in that instant, I suddenly realized something.
Perhaps compared to the Dawn Witch’s high-operation, high-load combat style that required precise calculation of every step…
This guy’s way of living was the true definition of “low energy consumption, high return.”
“Let’s go then.”
I eventually stood up.
“Before I change my mind.”
“Don’t worry.”
Haori turned and waved his hand.
“The maid café won’t eat you.”