*Chapter 6: The Beauty of Delivery Has Arrived!*

This sinner—what kind of wild thoughts is he having about me while staring at that chair? Inside the cabinet, Yūzuru Hasegawa clenched her teeth and instinctively touched her waist, where her hand met the cold surface of a kunai.

But inside the room, Oda Shingo circled the new furniture and muttered to himself, "The wood on this chair is so hard. Won't it be uncomfortable for a girl to sit on for too long?"

Yūzuru was stunned. Something didn’t seem right.

At that moment, Shingo left the house again.

Once she was sure Shingo was far away, Yūzuru stealthily emerged from the cabinet and began checking the bags he bought to see what they contained.

"Could it be some otaku artbook? That guy probably has all sorts of weird things in his head."

Carefully, she started flipping through them.

The lights were still on, so she could see everything clearly.

But to her surprise, the bags contained drawing tools and paper.

"C-could it be..." Yūzuru's eyes widened.

A scene played out in her mind: her being forced to model under verbal threats, while Shingo sinisterly opened his sketchpad...

That guy doesn’t take photos—he actually wants to draw!

His mind is seriously twisted!

Yūzuru cursed him deeply in her heart.

But... something didn’t add up.

Why did most of the new art supplies seem secondhand?

Secondhand goods are much cheaper, sometimes costing only 20% of the price of new items.

Yūzuru, being a manga artist herself, knew full well how expensive new drawing tools could be. But if Shingo was saving money by buying secondhand supplies, why did he purchase brand-new furniture?

Confused, Yūzuru's mind wandered, but before she could think further, her keen hearing detected footsteps approaching.

Whoosh! She darted back into the cabinet.

Crouching inside, Yūzuru watched Shingo return, now carrying a brand-new seat cushion and a backrest.

Shingo carefully placed the cushion and backrest on the new chair and said, "Now Yūzuru Hasegawa won’t get so tired sitting here drawing manga."

"..." Yūzuru was stunned.

D-did I misunderstand? Was this all for me?

She then watched as Shingo organized the art supplies, placing the new ones on a separate desk, clearly preparing for something.

Then, he sat on an old, worn-out chair and began drawing at a shabby desk.

Yūzuru blinked in surprise.

Soon, from Shingo’s movements, she could tell—he was seriously drawing manga.

Realizing something was off, Yūzuru began to recall their earlier interactions.

Creating manga... collaborating... a partner for drawing... storyboards...

When Shingo had caught up with her before, he had indeed mentioned something about creating manga. But her mind had been too focused on the embarrassment of buying doujinshi in front of her classmates to pay attention.

"No way..." Yūzuru was dumbfounded. Is he really inviting me to join his manga team?

At that moment, Yūzuru heard more footsteps approaching.

Soon, heavy footsteps echoed on the flimsy metal floor of the cheap apartment.

Then came loud knocking, and a sultry female voice called out, "Hey, hey, hey, I've got something good delivered to your door!"

It couldn't be that sinner... Uh, maybe I shouldn't call him a sinner after all. But could it really be the [delivery] he ordered? Yūzuru speculated from within the cabinet.

Shingo, sitting at the table, put down his pen.

From the voice, he recognized it as the girl next door, a flashy girl with a gyaru style.

He didn’t open the door, though. Instead, he walked to the door, opened the small observation window, and responded, "What is it?"

Outside stood a woman in her twenties, dressed in a flashy style, with dark circles under her eyes—whether from fatigue or some bad habit was unclear.

Shingo recognized her as the neighbor.

The gyaru girl blinked seductively and said in a suggestive tone, "Hey, little brother, I've got something nice to sell you, interested?"

She dangled a piece of clothing in her hand.

Liar! That’s not yours! Shingo, having been an anime director in his past life and well-versed in human anatomy, saw through it instantly.

Slam! He shut the observation window firmly.

"No money!"

The gyaru was stunned for a moment but, after trying to flirt again and being ignored, angrily shouted:

"You broke otaku!"

"No wonder you have no money, pretending to be all decent!"

"Loser! You’re poor! I wouldn’t even want you!"

After banging on the door for a bit, she left.

Inside, Shingo remained unmoved, fully focused on his manga drawings.

Hmph, I’m not interested in women right now; my only focus is on my career!

In the cabinet, Yūzuru couldn’t help but feel she had truly misunderstood him.

He... seems to be really serious about drawing manga?

Under the light, this young man’s profile... looks a bit handsome?

As soon as that thought crossed her mind, Yūzuru shook her head vigorously.

Uh... I should be thinking about how to escape, right? She felt extremely awkward.

She could only wait for Shingo to leave for the bathroom or something...

Time slowly passed.

Gurgle—her stomach growled.

Fortunately, she had noticed some rice balls earlier when tidying up.

"Salted rice balls? Good thing they don't expire until tomorrow." Shingo examined them.

As someone who had been Chinese in his past life, Shingo wasn’t used to eating cold food, let alone dry rice balls seasoned only with salt.

With no microwave to heat them, Shingo took small bites of the cold rice balls.

Eating cold food, a habit among the Japanese, is said to preserve the food's true flavor.

As Shingo ate, he pondered how to break into the market.

"‘Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End’ isn’t suitable for me right now." After careful consideration, Shingo reached a conclusion.

As a newcomer, if you don’t shine within three attempts, you’ll be cut.

This particular manga had a slow pace, making it unsuitable for a rookie to handle, and no editor or publishing company would fully trust a newcomer with it.

The original series had also taken months to gain recognition back on Earth.

More importantly, Shingo knew he lacked the funds and skill to do it justice at this point.

Once he had more success, he planned to build the perfect team, with the best resources, to achieve greatness with "Frieren."

For now, as a newcomer, the quickest way to stand out was to create a buzz.

Shingo smiled, his mind quickly sketching out a plan.

Given his experience as a former anime producer, his marketing ability was like shooting fish in a barrel at this point.

Gaining traction online with a small budget, and then securing a serial slot in a weekly magazine, was the best path forward for him.

The perfect fit for this plan?

*"One Punch Man!"*

The rice balls in his mouth suddenly tasted better.

After eating, Shingo followed his routine, boiling some water and pouring himself a cup of hot tea.

Fortunately, there was still some tea, though it was of the lowest quality, the kind you'd find in cheap tea bags.

“Whew—” The white steam rose as Shingo sipped the hot tea, slowly acclimating to his new identity.

They say one reason the Japanese eat cold food is to avoid disturbing others. Hot food releases a strong smell, so many students also eat cold bento lunches at school.

Just then, Shingo heard very light footsteps.

The sound of wooden sandals on iron plates.

Tap, tap, tap...

Though the person walked softly, the sound easily passed through the thin walls, another testament to the apartment's cheap construction.

Compared to the previous woman, though, this one was a model of grace.

Knock, knock, knock.

A soft, polite knock—a gentle tap, followed by two quicker ones.

"Who is it?" Shingo responded eagerly, appreciating the courteous gesture.

Outside came a soft, feminine voice: "Sorry to bother you. It's me, Fuyuto Yukino."

The pace of her speech was measured and calm, almost as if one could see the poised movements of a refined woman as she spoke.

Shingo's memory clicked.

This was the landlady, Fuyuto Yukino, likely here to collect rent.

The thing is, her name had the character for "snow" in it, and her husband had passed away...

(End of Chapter)