I suspected that this would not be far in the future. Misaki seemed to live nearby. I might even run across her in town, completely by chance. By that time, I had to change my huge, incredibly stupid lie into reality. I needed to become a true creator. What was a creator, anyway? What is it?

Yamazaki, seated at his computer as usual, condensed my situation. “In short, Satou, you told a horrible lie because you were trying to look good in front of a cute girl. And now you’re flustered and trying to conceal the fact that you lied. Does that about sum it up?”

Blushing, I nodded. I don’t care if you scorn me, Yamazaki. You already know my real identity as an unemployed, hikikomori dropout. There’s no secret more embarrassing that you could possibly discover. Help me, Yamazaki!

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t make fun of you or anything. Hm…”

Yamazaki folded his arms and groaned, deep in thought. I sat on the floor and meekly waited for him to speak. However, his next words made no sense whatsoever. “To begin with, no matter how much a real girl looks down on you, does it really matter?”

“Eh?”

“Listen to me, Satou. Women… they aren’t people. No, they’re not normal humans. In fact, it might not be an exaggeration to say that they’re unbelievably close to being inhuman monsters. Therefore, there’s no need to go out of your way like this. What does it matter if you’re scorned by some female?”

His expression was as calm as usual.

I abruptly became very uncomfortable.

He continued, “Those things don’t have proper human hearts. They look human, but they’re different creatures. Satou, it’s best if you first understand this fact.”

“Ya-Yamazaki…”

“Ha ha ha! Well, anyway, it’s not really that big of a deal. No matter what the reason for your decision to become a creator, the idea’s probably not half bad. It’s fine. Let’s think about this together.”

Rising from his computer desk, he sat down before me. His actions were infused with a bizarre confidence. Apparently, a four-year span radically could change someone’s personality. Yamazaki now seemed to be twisting in a dangerous emotional direction. However, at this point, that didn’t matter at all. If it would help solve my problem, I’d bowed down to a demon.

“No, no. There’s no need to bow to me. Let’s start. Briefly, there are all different kinds of creators, Satou—what would you like to do?”

“What? Like I said, I want to be a creator…”

“There’s no job called ‘creator’!” Yamazaki’s voice grew rough. “It’s just a general term for jobs like writing or drawing comics. Basically, a ‘creator’ is simply someone who makes something. So, what would you like to make, Satou? That’s what I’m asking.”