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She observed the people pacing back and forth from above, like how a Dungeon Master watches a game unfold before them.
Surrounded by eternity on all sides, Ayumu sat on a char three times her size. Before her, atop a large table, lay some kind of maquette, one that challenged her conceptions of what was possible. The main attraction was meant to be a replica of Nijigasaki High School right in the middle; what attracted her eyes most however were all the tiny people sized like dolls, who moved on and about, possessing movement that they should not be capable of.
This was no mere model—it was a window into the current world.
Was that her creation? In a strict sense, it could be said to be. Her wishes and selfish desires had served as foundation for this newborn world. That, she understood. And yet the simulation unfolding before her appeared so real, so close to life, Ayumu could not imagine herself as capable of such a miracle.
“Are you satisfied, Uehara Ayumu?”
An alluring voice pierced her ear, one with the persuasiveness of a siren’s song. Slowly, Ayumu turned her head a tad to acknowledge the being that had uttered those words. It was an existence that, were she to be ignorant, she would describe as amicable, even adorable. But because she was not in fact ignorant, all it took was a glance to fill her heart with putrid, disagreeable emotions.
Sitting by her left shoulder, a creature with white fur and ears not unlike a cat stared up at her. His face was devoid of visible emotions, and his words were devoid of audible emotions, yet his words remained charged with extreme malice.
“It pleases us both to know Takasaki Yuu has survived after our end of the contract was fulfilled,” the creature said. “You can see her down there.”
“Shut up, Kyubey,” Ayumu answered.
She paid no heed to his words. She had to pay them no heed. If she had done just that that one day, this situation would have been prevented.
But that was the past, a past best left forgotten. There were better, more important things to worry about.
“Yuu-chan… there you are.”
She was so tiny, Ayumu wanted to pick her up by the twintails. But all she could do was observe, unable to interfere.
“I don’t need to, anyway. School Idols are no longer part of this world. There is nothing to worry about.”
Without Idols, there was no way for the girl she loved to fall into despair. To avoid that fate that had once befallen them, Ayumu abandoned it all, putting her hope into one last, desperate wish with the Incubator.
For Ayumu, there was no conception of day and night anymore.
And yet, she knew that lonely days and nights were soon to come.
“This can’t last, you know? You are far too fragile for such an overbearing task.”
Ayumu wanted to ignore him yet again, but she couldn’t deny that truth. One day, she would succumb to despair, and who knew what tragedy would follow.
“Let me watch Yuu-chan, you jerk.”
But until that day came, Ayumu would continue to enjoy her creation.