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(Synopsis)
Living with the popular novelist, Masato, for three years, she was always by his side. Even when she spoke to him, Masato was always cold towards her, their conversations often interrupted by the parrot he owned. However, there was a surprising reason behind his coldness towards her.
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"Good morning, Masato."
I poke just my head out from under the duvet, rubbing my half-closed eyes with my right hand, then glance over to the side of the bed.
Is it almost noon already?
The morning light filtering through the gaps in the blackout curtains made me guess so.
Masato, who had woken up before me, was already out of bed, standing up and straightening his shirt.
"Good morning, Masato!"
I put a slight irritation in my voice.
He's just so cold.
Can't he even greet back?
But this is always the case. Masato does things at his own pace and is not the type to go along with others.
Falling in love with such a Masato was my own choice, so I can't complain.
"Good morning."
About ten seconds later, Masato turned his head slightly towards me and said.
I was about to say, "You always wake up before me, huh?" when suddenly my speech was interrupted.
"Good morning, Masato, good morning."
The one who responded was Peach, the parrot. Inside the birdcage hung by the window, it flapped its wings happily.
Her interrupting our conversations was a usual occurrence.
Is she jealous, seeing him being kind to me?
Masato's relationship with Peach predates mine.
I only know about their relationship from three years ago when we started living together.
I feel jealous thinking Peach knows Masato better than I do.
But she is just a bird that cannot leave her cage, not a rival.
"What should we have for breakfast?"
"Anything's fine, as long as Masato makes it."
He left the room without replying.
Masato is good at cooking. He started living alone right after graduating from university, which helped him become capable in all household chores.
On the other hand, I'm completely useless. I've always depended on Masato.
But he never seemed to mind.
Does that mean he loves me... that much? I could feel my face turning red.
I wish he would say it out loud, though.
Masato doesn't express his affection in words, like saying "I love you."
I heard the high-pitched sound of the toaster from beyond the wall.
Oh no!
"I'm coming now."
I hurried out of bed and headed to the dining area.
* * * *
Masato was facing his laptop with a serious expression.
I gazed at his side profile, mesmerized. Occasionally, he would lift his slipping glasses with the back of his right hand, a gesture I found attractive.
I love his serious side profile when he's working.
Just watching him makes my heart beat faster.
I'm like a fairy. A fairy-like being who loves him and follows him everywhere.
While he's not an idol, Masato is certainly handsome.
He's tall and was part of the basketball team during his school days.
"I can't think of the right expression..."
Masato took a sip from the cup next to his computer.
"Drinking too much coffee is toxic for you."
Even when I caution him, it doesn't reach his ears, engrossed as he is in his work.
I shouldn't disturb him while he's working.
So, I decided to stay silent for a while.
The worst thing would be getting kicked out of this room.
Just being able to look at his side profile makes me happy.
As long as I stay quiet, he allows me to stay as close as I want.
He glanced up into the air before returning his focus to the computer.
After that, the room was filled with the sound of keys being tapped, breaking the silence.
The silence was broken by his smartphone's ringtone.
"Ah, the editor. Can't ignore this. Ugh. The deadline shouldn't be due yet."
He sighed lightly and put the smartphone to his ear.
"Ah, it's me. Sorry, I'm sincerely working on it. Tomorrow... no, the day after tomorrow, the manuscript will be ready. How's the progress? It's good. I'm writing as if inspired. Yes, I'll let you know as soon as it's done. Excuse me."
After hanging up, he sighed deeply.
Liar.
It doesn't look like he's writing smoothly.
The job of a novelist is physical labor. Writing seems to wear down the nerves, something I've come to understand from watching him.
He sits for long periods, but it's not an easy job.
His fingers didn't move much towards the computer.
Writers often face blocks, but this time it seems particularly tough.
What he
needs now is a change of scenery.
"Why don't you get some exercise?"
"Alright, I'll go for a run."
He slapped his thighs and stood up.
Ah, jogging. I felt let down.
I'd be happy to go for a walk... but I'm not good at exercise.
"Wait..."
I hurriedly chased after his retreating figure.
* * * *
"Huff, huff, huff—"
Though my breath was white, sweat poured endlessly.
Drops of sweat burst from my forehead, trickling down my cheeks and neck.
"I can't anymore, let's take a break, a break."
As usual, Masato ran at his own pace, not seeming to care about my lack of athletic ability. Probably, he was even holding back for me.
If it were just him, he could probably run much faster.
Since I'm always around, he doesn't get to run alone. Thinking this, I felt a bit guilty.
"Ah, this again..."
It started suddenly.
Vibrations from my feet began shaking my body. The vibrations coming from the ground made my whole body shake, especially my back and arms convulsing violently.
This is why I hate running.
After a while of running, I'd be attacked by fine vibrations, like a smartphone's vibration.
This doesn't happen when walking. It seems like my body rejects intense exercise.
Endure, endure.
This is for his sake, a change of scenery. I want to help him get back to writing smoothly once we return to the apartment.
I mustn't be a burden.
I bit my lip and pushed harder, increasing my running pace.
* * * *
The manuscript was completed three days later, a day behind schedule.
"I've just sent it by email. Please check."
Masato was apologizing to the editor over the phone.
Despite only his voice being heard, the act of bowing showed his sincerity.
I watched the scene with a smile.
Without completing the novel, there's no income.
We would have to leave this luxury apartment.
And I would have to work.
Earning a daily wage and living in a cheap apartment is not what I want.
Being able to stay by Masato's side without working is because he's a popular novelist.
"Phew, that's one thing done!"
Masato raised his hands and stretched big, then moved his body left and right to stretch.
"Good job, Masato, good job."
I wanted to say "good job" too, but Peach beat me to it again. I glared at the birdcage, but Peach turned away, pretending not to notice.
"Maybe we should take a trip. Yeah... somewhere with a hot spring would be nice. I can do the manuscript revisions at the inn."
"That sounds great, great! Agreed, agreed!!"
Masato opened his laptop and began searching for a travel destination. I stood behind his chair, helping him choose.
"Here, here looks good! A private outdoor bath for couples to relax in!"
* * * *
The next day, we embarked on a two-day trip.
A hot spring deep in the mountains, a few hours' drive from our mansion. Masato had booked a room at a famous, established inn.
In the car driven by Masato, I talked non-stop about dramas and news I saw on TV this morning.
Masato, as always, was quiet but seemed to be in a good mood, smiling gently.
He nodded occasionally, focusing on driving.
If an accident happened, it would be a big problem.
I would be troubled, and many readers would be saddened.
Like this, we arrived at the inn in no time.
"Please enjoy the open-air bath as much as you like. It's available for private use."
The innkeeper explained politely.
"Is there time to enter the hot spring before dinner?"
"Yes, of course."
Masato and I were guided to a Japanese-style room with two rooms. One of the rooms already had futons laid out.
Since we arrived in the evening, the bedding was prepared in advance.
Seeing the futons, I felt my face heat up.
He started changing into the provided yukata, placing his luggage at the head of the futon.
Ah, I should change too...
I hurriedly followed Masato out of the room after changing.
* * * *
The open-air bath was on the rooftop of the inn.
We climbed the stairs and entered the changing room. After undressing, we opened the sliding door to the cold winter air.
"Ah, it's cold!"
We both said the same thing at the same time, hugging our bodies to keep warm as we hurried into the open-air bath.
"It's hot!"
Again, we ended up saying the same thing.
I couldn't help but laugh.
"Ah, this feels good. The few days after finishing a novel are the most relaxing."
Masato said, looking up at the night sky and exhaling white breath.
"Good job.
I hope it sells a lot."
I also looked up at the night sky.
The stars seemed so numerous, as if they were about to fall.
"It's really different from the city. Just a few hours by car, and the night view is so different. It's surprising."
I secretly wished such days would continue forever.
* * * *
After returning from the trip, Masato started working on his next piece.
He's so dedicated to his work.
"If I don't write for two days, my pen stops moving."
That's his catchphrase.
I seem to remember a pianist saying something similar on TV. Maybe it's a common sensation among creative people.
I sat on the sofa, watching his side profile as usual.
Although I love his side profile, I felt a bit sleepy today... He also seemed to be struggling to stay awake.
He reached for his glasses, perhaps to take a short nap.
The moment I thought that, I suddenly fell asleep.
How long had I slept?
When I woke up, he had returned with a cup of coffee.
I thought about asking him to make me one too, but decided against it.
Coffee is bitter.
I don't understand why it's considered delicious.
"Maybe we should go out."
Masato started searching on his smartphone. I stood up and checked the screen from behind him.
"Glasses store, glasses store. Where did I buy these glasses... here it is."
"Buying new glasses?"
"Glasses, glasses, Masato, glasses."
He seemed about to say something, but, as usual, was interrupted by the parrot.
A bird that doesn't warm up to me at all... not cute.
* * * *
By the time we arrived at the glasses store in front of the station, it was dark outside.
Masato is nocturnal, sleeping late and waking up late.
His main activity time starts now. Is this how all novelists are?
I always fall asleep before him, no matter how hard I try to stay awake.
And I wake up later than him. I worry he might think I'm a sloppy girlfriend.
"Welcome. Are you looking for new glasses?"
A veteran clerk with a mustache greeted us.
A gentle, ever-smiling, elderly gentleman with a strong impression of being in the service industry.
"No, I'd like to have these glasses repaired."
"Did you purchase these glasses here?"
"Yes."
"Let's check the condition first."
The glasses seemed to slip down during writing and running.
Indeed, it seemed better to have them repaired.
The clerk invited Masato to sit down.
"Should I take off the glasses?"
"No, it's fine as it is. I'd like to check if they fit your face."
I stood beside the two, watching the scene.
The clerk extended both hands towards Masato's ears, checking the fit on his face.
"If it's inconvenient, why not buy new glasses?"
I tried to offer some advice.
No response.
It can't be helped if he can't move his head.
Glasses are Masato's trademark. No one looks better in glasses than him. Glasses are essential for his work, given the long hours he spends in front of a computer.
"Then, please remove the glasses. I'll adjust them with a special machine."
The clerk lifted Masato's glasses with a quick motion.
At that moment, my consciousness cut off abruptly.
Not because I was sleepy...
* * * *
"As much as possible, we've adjusted them. How does it feel?"
When my consciousness returned, I was sitting on the sofa in the store.
Masato was sitting on a chair, wearing the glasses that seemed to have been adjusted.
Did I suddenly fall asleep?
Did I faint?
How embarrassing.
No, if that were the case, I would have been more worried.
So, did I fall asleep on the sofa? Something similar had happened before.
I hurriedly stood up and moved behind Masato.
"I'll bring a mirror for you to check."
The clerk returned with a large mirror from the back of the store.
"Maybe shake your head a bit? You mentioned the rattling noise during jogging was bothering you."
I moved behind Masato, peering into the mirror.
I was supposed to meet his eyes through the mirror.
"Wait, why?!"
I blurted out those words with a short shriek.
I couldn't meet his eyes.
Because I didn't see myself reflected in the mirror...
"Hey, Masato. Hey!"
Please answer me! Don't ignore me!!
Masato continued to tilt his head right and left, inspecting the mirror as if nothing had happened.
Despite my loud voice, the clerk didn't turn around, maintaining a faint smile and watching Masato's condition.
"Hey!!"
Unable to contain myself, I tried to place my hands on Masato's shoulders—but my hands passed right through him.
Like an invisible person. It's not that Masato is invisible.
I am the invisible person.
Not reflected in the mirror
, an invisible person, a boyfriend who doesn't respond when spoken to...
—So, that's it.
I realized a shocking truth from this situation.
Masato couldn't see me.
Not just now, but he had never been able to see me.
Thinking back, there were plenty of inexplicable things.
Not just the one-sided conversations. He always made meals for one.
I just watched him eat deliciously.
Even when eating out, he always ordered for one.
The occasional words Masato uttered were soliloquies.
Then, what am I?
I had a guess about the answer.
When I entered this store, I felt nostalgic.
When Masato took off his glasses, I lost consciousness. And when he put them back on, I regained consciousness.
Meaning, I am... a fairy that can only exist near Masato when he wears glasses.
A glasses fairy.
This makes sense.
We bathed together.
Because he wears glasses even in the bath.
This is still understandable.
I also went to the bathroom with him. He enters the bathroom with his glasses on. This, upon reflection, is strange.
Even couples who want to be together all the time don't go to the bathroom together. It's abnormal.
Why didn't I realize it until now?
Masato stood up and lightly jumped.
"It seems the rattling hasn't been fixed."
"Although we've adjusted it as much as possible, the screw holes might have loosened. By the way, when did you purchase these?"
The clerk frowned apologetically.
"I made them here about three years ago."
Three years ago!
The same period as our cohabitation.
I don't remember anything before that.
I wasn't in the photo albums, nor was I in the photos on his smartphone.
Then, a memory came back to me.
The day Masato came to this store to choose glasses.
Laid out among other glasses frames, I fell in love with him at first sight.
"Choose me!" I desperately signaled, and he chose me.
Love is blind. For three years, I forgot who I was.
"This might be a good opportunity to make new glasses."
"I'm really fond of these, so it's a shame."
"Then, we'll keep the old glasses and dispose of them. Since it's been three years, let's start with an eye exam."
Masato smiled thinly, but to me, it looked like a sad smile.
A sudden goodbye.
I'm sad.
It was so much fun... and now it's sad.
The clerk reached out to Masato's face with both hands.
Once the glasses were removed, it would be over.
I would never meet Masato again.
Is giving up the only option?
"Thank you, Masato. I wanted to be with you more, much more."
I whispered gently into his ear.
Then, my consciousness faded.
* * * *
"Can you see the magazine's text clearly?"
"Yes, I can see it clearly."
Startled by that voice, I lifted my face. Looking around, I was still in the glasses store.
Why, why?
Sitting on a chair, holding a magazine with both hands, Masato had his usual glasses on.
"Sir, you must be very fond of those glasses to keep the old ones."
"Upon hearing 'dispose,' I suddenly felt an attachment. I don't know why."
"Are they still inconvenient?"
"Indeed, the rattling during jogging is inconvenient, so I'll use contact lenses for that. But at home, the old glasses seem fine. With the new lenses, I can work on the computer more efficiently."
Masato made a cute, embarrassed smile. Not a sad smile.
"The contact lenses will be delivered to you later."
Masato stood up, bowed, and headed towards the exit.
"Let's go. What should we have for dinner?"
As always, I hurriedly followed Masato's back.
And, shouting "Yay," I raised my right hand and jumped.
"I want hamburgers! Because I want to see Masato eat deliciously!"
(End)
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I am a Japanese novelist. The following story has been automatically translated from Japanese to English. Please be aware that there may be errors or inappropriate translations.
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