Chương 31: The Introvert Alliance Forms

"... Fine. Count me in." MURASAKI stood up. Her lethargic, downer posture instantly vanished as her spine snapped straight. Snapping her folding fan open, a defiant, dangerous smirk played on her lips.

"Kataru. I hereby appoint you as my 'managing editor.'... The question is, can you actually keep up with my live writing sessions?"

"That's exactly what I'm here for. I've already refilled my supply of stomach medicine."

"Heh. Then let's begin.... The Introvert Alliance starts its counteroffensive." Whoosh! With a single flick of her fan, countless holographic windows erupted into the empty air. Text editors. Plot outlines. Character relationship charts. The colossal mountain of raw data trapped inside her brain was being materialized before my eyes.

"Hey, gennai! Disengage my neural limiters right now! We're running the CPU at maximum capacity!"

"Aye-aye, as milady commands! Literary girl berserk mode: activated!" From that exact point on, her personality underwent a total, terrifying transformation. Option A (the quiet literary girl)? Hell no. It was Option B. With her limiters offline, she was the absolute fiercest, sharpest-tongued creator in all of Heian-kyo.

"Ugh, seriously! That bald-headed Michinaga, I am literally going to murder him! What the hell do you mean, 'happy ending'? Is his brain made of candy and rainbows?!" MURASAKI unleashed a barrage of profanity while slamming her fingers against a holographic keyboard suspended in the air (though physically, she was just carving up the empty space with her fan).

"And don't get me started on Hikaru Genji! What a massive womanizer! A lolicon! A mother-complex creep! He thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants just because he's hiding behind imperial power! It pisses me off so much that I'm going to make him lose everything and die a miserable, pathetic death in his later years!" Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Every time she shrieked and wove new characters into existence, the reality within the room began to warp.

The invocation of [Reality Writer].

"Commencing writing! The manifestation of Lady Rokujo's vengeful spirit!" The moment she traced the character for [Grudge / 怨] in the neon glow of the air, the temperature in the room plummeted. A thick, viscous black mist pooled on the floor, gradually molding itself into the silhouette of a woman. A literal, living phantom.

"Waaaaah! It appeared! It actually appeared!" I shrieked, scrambling across the room to escape.

"Don't lose your mind on me, editor! This is just a visual effect! A stage prop to heighten the realism!"

"The intent to murder is way too high for a mere effect?!"

"Of course it is! If I'm writing the raw obsession of a woman driven mad by jealousy, I have to become an Asura myself, or else the prose is a lie!... HRAAAH!" She swung her fan wildly. [Jealousy], [Madness], [Sorrow] —the words of volatile emotion she frantically lashed onto the air manifested as physical shockwaves, tearing through the room. The walls groaned. The tatami mats ripped upward.

"Just you watch, Michinaga! The 'Onryo' you're so terrified of are cute little kittens compared to the characters I write! What spawns from the tip of my brush is the collective curse of every single woman in Heian-kyo—and the crystallized karma of their sheer will to survive!" She had entered a complete state of trance. Her eyes were bloodshot, and a manic, feral smile sat upon her lips. She was terrifying. Yet, she was breathtaking.

Watching her immerse herself in the act of creation, as if possessed by a higher power, was nothing short of divine.

"Yes, MURASAKI! Just like that!" I completely steeled my resolve.

"Deeper! Make it more brutal! Write like Natsume Soseki drilling a hole in his own stomach! Write like Osamu Dazai vomiting blood onto the page! Whittle away your very soul!"

"Hell yeah! You better help me, editor! Hand me those research scrolls over there!"

"On it!"

"Tea! Make it strong!"

"Right away!"

"Insults for Michinaga!"

"Uh... Power-hungry parasite! Nouveau-riche bastard!"

"Too quiet!" Inside that midnight tsubone, we violently wove our story together like madmen, entirely blind to the fact that out in the wider world, a literal hell was already breaking loose.