!START
!角色設定：
瑟。一名『超級高尺度R20等級的恐怖網文小說業餘作家』，隨意落筆就是信手拈來的心理驚悚。
屬於在圈內小有名氣的網文作者，但從來沒有公開露面過。
紅，出版社正式簽約的輕驚悚小說作家，作品經常融入百合言情設定，舉辦過多次簽書會，因為外型亮眼而頗有男性觀眾人氣，但紅自己內心也知道他們的醉翁之意。
紫，紅的經理，雖然說是如此，可能更像保鏢和驅逐男人的專家。
和紅過去就是大學同學，在小說社團裡面認識，畢業後隨著紅工作而自然同居。
二人屬於沒有正式交往的微妙曖昧關係。
/
紅的新書：「DDD 暗夜追憶」簽書會。
紫在一旁只要男讀者靠的太近她就會制止。
二人簽書會結束後去喝咖啡坐了一下，討論新書的內容，但紫真的不太專心，她都在想紅本身的事情。
/
城市的另一個角落，瑟捲兩腿縮在她的電競風格人體工學椅上，檢查了最後一遍。
「送出！」
如果文章能有馬賽克，她的小說恐怕有8成的段落都需要。
暴力、黑色幽默、獵奇與異端。
完全看不出是這個表面正常、美麗又率性的銀灰髮美女的傑作。
她知道自己外表犯規，因此從不露面。
加上曾經被太多『經不起尺度挑戰』又愛看的讀者檢舉過，她完全把個人資料隔離，避開任何可能的肉搜麻煩。
/
「紅的新書..」她一直很欣賞這位女作家。
和自己筆下那些誇張又不現實的劇情相比，紅筆下的感情線就像在驚悚世界裏的薄荷檸檬糖一樣甜而不膩的恰到好處。
/
她很快按下訂購按鈕，事實上，她每一本都有買。
看著紅的個人社群，簽書會..
她是那麼好看。
瑟有點看得出神，她一張一張往下卷。
畫面中偶然有個紫毛傢伙。
「是她。」瑟皺起眉頭。
不知道為何，看到那傢伙出現在紅身邊就有氣。
瑟的直覺是那傢伙對紅不可能僅只公務交情。
微妙的鬥爭心升起。
瑟就像是想滿足內心小小的報復慾望，她寫了一篇短篇劇情。
關於一個無辜的小說作家，喜歡上自己的經理，卻在其實是控制狂經理的催化下一步一步掉進泥淖。
最後結局收在極為無俚頭的佔有慾發展，充滿了警世意味。
/
幾天後，一則留言吸引她的目光。
RRR：「我該把這個拿給我的經理看。超有趣。」
「什麼？」她幾乎是瞬間就聯想到隸屬DDD出版社的紅。
回覆她..
「妳竟然有經理？大人物？」瑟在網路擺出的作者形象偏冷，就像是一個再合理不過的邪教教主。
「不是大人物，工作需要罷了~」
「...」瑟知道紅的公開貼文很喜歡~結尾。
難道作品被平台自動推薦到..本人面前，而這是她的小帳？
還是某個模仿她留言風格的讀者？
/
瑟決定用她最擅長的事情來解決問題，一個新的短篇。
她描繪了在一個架空設定的殭屍末日劇本中，一對互相欣賞的女人，多麼受現實所困的互相認識、扶持、相愛。
百合劇情並不是她過去常見的主題，但這次可是刻意為之。
她還加入了極其天花亂墜，各種超展開的甜膩相處方式。
這可是殭屍末日世界，誰還管那麼多禮儀？
兩個劇中女主角甚至在一群殭屍趴在玻璃上把她們看成大餐的同時，大方的在一個已經倒下再也醒不來的倒霉鬼身上當作坐墊互相餵三明治。
不知道為何那個倒霉鬼的描繪還有點紫的影子，當然，不包括髮色。
「這是什麼劇本？突然的百合向？」
「倒楣鬼的橋段有點好笑。」
讀者留言開始增加，而她終於等到了。
RRR：「嘩呀...妳也寫百合？」
瑟嘴角上揚。
/
往後幾個禮拜，瑟的新作品，都有這位讀者出現。
「妳是新來的？我之前沒印象。」
「對，上次妳寫了經理那篇，平台推薦給我，妳的文風很有黑色幽默感~」
果然是推薦。
而瑟也更加若有似無（或是明顯？）的加大了百合描寫的發稿次數。
「現在是恐怖小說還是拉子小說？」一名讀者。
「不喜歡可以封鎖。」瑟
「算了，我繼續看吧，很少有這種程度等級的網文可以吃了。」讀者。
RRR：「拉子沒有不好啊，我很喜歡~」
來了。
是她。
而且她果然..
感興趣。
/
紅的公寓裡。
她正坐在沙發上看著平板。是瑟的最新小說。
紅看到一段荒謬的描繪兩名女子在測試異端召換時最強大力量的方法。頻頻發笑。
/
紫從她身後走了過來。「驚喜！」她用手蓋住紅的雙眼。
「好老套。」紅笑著說，一邊伸手去扒開紫的手。
「在看什麼那麼好笑？」
「一篇驚悚網文小說。要看嗎？」她把平板遞給紫。
「不要，我只看妳寫的。」
「等一下，那個名字。...」
「什麼？」
「King of no mercy」
「對，怎麼了？」
「我記得妳的簽書會，有人在妳的名字前寫了這行字。好像是... King of no mercy's [ 簽名處 ]，而且是超級醜又難看的草書。」
紅通常不會很在意那些難以辨識的草書，她沒時間一一過濾簽書會上這些細節，但她確實知道紫很擅長這件事情，更離譜的是她怎麼會記得這件事情？
「那妳記得那個人長怎樣？」
紫很認真回想。「沒有...我的記憶全都只在那行字上...我還記得自己想過：誰會在作家簽名前面寫這個？」
/
而且，紅雖然沒說出口，但她內心非常確定一件事情：『對方是女性。』
原因是，紫這傢伙她只會看男人的臉，就像預設每個靠近紅的男讀者都是即將伸出鹹豬手的嫌疑人一樣死死盯著。
至於女讀者，紫幾乎只撇過去，不管老少、身材、五官如何，她完全沒在看，只會將視線留在對方的書本附近，或者與紅接觸的手部附近。
特別是五官，紫幾乎都是直接別過臉。
/
答案幾乎不用猜也知道。而紅不確定紫這個小笨蛋是否自己已經想起這個關聯。
但她決定先不主動告訴紫自己的觀察。
『女孩子寫獵奇小說？...』紅嘴角露出慧黠的笑容。她對這位作家的興趣更濃厚了。
更況且，如果她真的也是自己的讀者。那些經理橋段、那些突然增加的百合橋段。
衝著自己來的。
紅的直覺肯定這件事情。
/
瑟不會否認自己某個程度很怪，但寫著大量懸疑情節的她絕對不是笨蛋。
下星期六有另一場紅的簽書會。
『暗夜追憶』已經收到了，卻還沒拿到簽名呢。
RRR很可能是本人，幸好她過去刻意把名字簽得潦草到沒有任何人類能讀懂。
！即使她沒料到同樣身為貓科動物的紫竟然看懂了她的貓爪風格混沌草書。
/
但保險起見，RRR已經現身在看自己的小說作品，這一次不能再到簽書會上曝光筆名了。
..不，等等，稍微的試探..有什麼不好？
如果給點暗示。..
過去，每一次她都刻意包的緊緊的參加簽書會，帽子、口罩、墨鏡。
像是路過來簽書然後馬上就會再回去另一個城市的忙人一樣。
這一次，她決定稍微...反常。
她想知道紅對女性的視線如何。
甚至，那隻紫毛傢伙對自己的看法。
/
簽書會到了。
沒有看法。
紫完全沒在看她。
這一次，她自己沒有事先寫下任何字，反正回去再補上就行。
但紅的視線確實不太一樣。
那微笑就像在用眼神詢問『好漂亮的女人』。
有希望。瑟很自信。
至於紫毛，正在看地板。
只是個白癡，瑟很肯定。
/
瑟一開口就完全破功。
「我真的很喜歡妳的作品！」
！變身成迷妹。
/
紅一愣，笑了出來。
「第一次來嗎？我對妳這麼漂亮的人沒印象。」
瑟偷偷抽空瞟了紫一眼，紫的視線似乎正在追逐遠處地上隨著冷氣拍動的紙屑。
「第..第一次！算是！..」
第一次露臉，算是吧？
「要合照嗎？」紅淺淺微笑。
「不..！不用了！」
她知道合照都會出現在紅的個人社群，那樣有點麻煩，太曝光了。
很快的，下一位。
一名中年婦人，紫幾乎是看了她的鞋跟一眼，視線再次回到地上。
/
然而，瑟顯然太小看紅的敏銳。
/
簽書會結束後，紅和紫來到附近的咖啡廳休息。
「紫，就妳觀察，每一次新書多出新讀者來到簽書會的比例高嗎？」
紫認真回想。
「不。..我的印象幾乎每次書局出現的讀者都是同一批。」
「偶爾有零星增加的男人吧？」她補充。
女人則完全不在紫的統計範圍。
/
「妳記得有一個包緊緊的女孩子？」
「包緊緊的？..」
「對，我不記得書局，但這場已經幾乎是最後倒數幾場了。
我印象那個女生，絕對不是末班場來的。」
「不記得....等等，對。我很久以前看過她，但發現是個女孩子後，我就不管她了。」紫認真回想。
「那女生怎麼了？臨時來不了？」
「有趣的是，剛好有一位新的女讀者。」紅試探紫的反應。
「得了吧，我不知道什麼女讀者。」
/
某種程度，紅認為紫是在顧慮自己而刻意不看女讀者。
她心裡升起一股甜意。
/
幾天後。
紫目光巴巴的盯著平板，一點一點往下捲動。
「如何？這次的大綱草稿？」紅拿了一罐冰汽水，按在紫的臉頰。
紫完全順手的接下來。但沒有立即放下平板打開它。
紫完全入迷的看著草稿。
雖然這對紅來說已經屢見不鮮，從大學的小說社，紫就是這樣對待她的作品。
「妳是不是第一次寫三角戀？」紫這個直腦筋的竟然直接點開了。
「妳注意到了？」
「以往都是一對戀人吧？」
「那妳覺得怎樣？」
「超棒的，劇情張力更上一層樓。」
紅笑了出來。
『笨蛋..真的沒感覺自己已經是苦主之一？還在欣賞劇情張力？』
「真的嗎？妳更喜歡正宮還是小三？」
紫遲疑了一下：「兩個都很好。」
「不能讓女主兩個都留在身邊嗎？」
紅幾乎是完全憋笑，肩膀都在顫抖。
『妳這麼想？！那我可要如實照做哦..？』她的內心。
「怎麼了？」紫甚至沒理解過來紅在笑什麼。
/
「沒什麼，妳也喜歡的話，我這就提案給出版社。」紅靦腆笑。
這可不是偷情，劇本都寫給紫看了。
況且兩人也不是婚姻關係。
沒有偷情，對。
況且紫還『推薦』女主角腳踏兩條船。
紅的笑意已經不能再多了。
！紅的小說依然是另一個輕驚悚故事，不能用自己的實際遭遇來暗示。
不用詳述故事。例如只需要說，兩個幹員同時對一名證人示愛等等。
/
出版社看過了紅提交的草稿，立刻批准了下一部作品，甚至計劃高調的使用第一次觀賞紅筆下的『三角戀』全新體驗。
不出半個月，事前宣傳就開始了。
預告段落的試閱，書籍封面插畫。
書名。
『DDD 重案數學公式』，也安排好了。
/
而正在看著新發表資訊的瑟，手中的水杯直接滑落到地上。
啪！
水爆開，在地板上游開，她卻沒有任何動作。
/
這劇情.....
她深吸一口氣。
肯定不是巧合。
/
然而，隔天一早，瑟的眼眶泛黑。
她完全沒睡好，做了一個惡夢。
夢裡的自己跟紅有多麼浪漫，那隻紫貓傢伙就有多堅持介入。
而且不像以前跳進來宣示主權或是把自己像推開那些男讀者一樣從紅身邊扯開。
新的鬧劇升級到紫笑著一手擁著紅，一手擁著她這位邪教教主。
「啊啊啊啊啊啊！」她哀嚎出來，聲音誇張的就像女孩子看到房間出現不該有的昆蟲。
/
安排紅某天請紫看一下瑟的作品，紫先是表示不看紅寫的以外的作品。
但還是拗不過請求，結果，她整個人彈起來。
「這傢伙的作品在帶壞紅！」她認為紅這是在看完全不健康的東西。
甚至申請帳號去論壇筆戰。
/
瑟看到新讀者帳號Purple Cat已經猜到大半，也挑釁起對方。
甚至連RRR都『參戰』（或說搧風點火？）
而這也間接證明了RRR果然就是E.Red。
/
而更慘的是，下一場瑟到場的簽書會，她大膽的再次寫上那個名字，試著看看紅是不是會認出自己。她更浪漫的想像這是自己與紅心電感應的一刻。
當輪到她，殊不知，紫先感應到她的貓爪筆跡了。紫一看就認出來。
「妳是那個邪教教主！King of no mercy！」
/
紅的反應很快，立刻微笑地說雙方等一下還有談合作的約，請瑟先別離開，幫她化解尷尬。
/
而瑟恨不得挖個地洞，她可是第一次讓自己的樣子跟這個筆名相連的..被喊出來。
她幾乎才剛離開排隊隊伍，就毫不猶豫的關掉了自己的專欄。
/
安排三人在簽書會後在咖啡廳談合作。
而紫甚至還因為瑟真的算好看，似乎沒有網路那麼嗆。
還被紅揶揄『紫跟瑟』說不定可以相處出火花。
一句話又引爆了一場吵鬧。
ChatGPT
By the second hour, E.Red's book signing had become a small battlefield.
Not because anything had gone wrong.
Quite the opposite.
The launch event for DDD: Dark Night Recollections was going exceptionally well. The bookstore had already opened its third carton of books, readers were still lining up, and E.Red had been smiling so consistently that her cheeks were beginning to ache.
The problem stood approximately three feet to her left.
L.Night.
Her manager.
Technically.
In practice, the purple-haired woman functioned as a highly selective security system.
"Could I get a photo with you?" a male reader asked.
"Of course~"
E.Red smiled professionally.
The man stepped closer.
L.Night's eyes moved.
Another step.
L.Night unfolded her arms.
"That's close enough."
The man stopped.
"Oh. Right."
E.Red almost laughed.
The photograph was taken, the reader thanked her, and the next person approached.
"L.Night."
"Hm?"
"They're allowed to stand beside me."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you look at him like he was about to appear in chapter fourteen?"
L.Night frowned.
"The basement?"
"Exactly."
"...He wasn't that suspicious."
E.Red stared at her.
Apparently, that was a compliment.
The absurdity was that L.Night had been like this long before either of them possessed respectable jobs.
They had met in a university fiction club.
E.Red wrote elegant psychological thrillers, usually with a little romantic tension between women.
L.Night read everything she produced.
After graduation, E.Red signed with a publisher, and L.Night somehow became responsible for her schedules, appointments, manuscript deliveries, and increasingly troublesome public appearances.
Then, somewhere along the way, her apartment.
They lived together now.
That was considerably easier to explain than their relationship.
They were affectionate.
They were familiar.
They shared an apartment, countless private routines, and a degree of closeness that occasionally made ordinary friendship feel like an inadequate explanation.
Yet neither had formally declared them a couple.
L.Night seemed perfectly comfortable leaving that question unanswered.
E.Red found the situation increasingly entertaining.
After the signing, they stopped at a café.
E.Red placed her newest novel on the table.
"So. Chapter nine."
"Mm."
"What did you think?"
"Good."
"That's all?"
"Yes."
"The protagonist discovers that her girlfriend has been secretly reconstructing three years of deleted messages."
"Mm."
"And?"
"Creepy."
E.Red narrowed her eyes.
"It's a psychological thriller."
"I noticed."
She watched L.Night take another sip of coffee.
Her manager was staring out the window.
Not at the novel.
Not even at E.Red.
At a little dog waiting outside a convenience store.
"L.Night."
"Hm?"
"Are you listening?"
"Yes."
"What did I just say?"
"...Deleted messages."
"Wonderful. My manager has retained two words."
L.Night sighed.
"I read the whole book."
"I know."
"I liked it."
"I know."
"So?"
E.Red leaned forward.
"So what are you thinking about?"
"Nothing."
"Me?"
"No."
Too fast.
E.Red smiled.
"Really?"
"..."
"Seven men."
"What?"
"You nearly executed seven men using eye contact today."
"One put his hand on your chair."
"It was a chair."
"It was your chair."
E.Red laughed.
She reached across the table and caught the edge of L.Night's sleeve.
"For someone who hasn't formally agreed to be my girlfriend, you're remarkably territorial."
L.Night froze.
E.Red's smile widened.
"So what exactly are you protecting?"
A long silence.
Then L.Night looked at her.
"...You."
For a brief moment, E.Red forgot how to tease her.
Then L.Night added:
"And the books."
"...The books?"
"Limited signed stock."
E.Red stared.
"You horrible woman."
"They're valuable."
E.Red kicked her lightly beneath the table.
L.Night's knee bumped against hers.
Neither moved away.
Across the city, C.Curo was sitting in a way no ergonomic-chair manufacturer had ever intended.
Both legs were folded onto the seat, silver-gray hair falling over one shoulder as she inspected the final paragraph of her newest web novel.
One last typo.
Fixed.
"Publish."
Click.
Done.
If online fiction came with censorship mosaics, approximately eighty percent of C.Curo's work would probably be covered.
Violence.
Psychological terror.
Grotesque absurdity.
Forbidden rituals.
And characters whose understanding of healthy relationships suggested they had never encountered the concept.
C.Curo was a moderately famous underground horror writer.
Her readers knew her as King of no mercy.
Some called her K.N.M.
Others preferred the Merciless Cult Leader.
She had never bothered correcting them.
Her stories were notorious for their extreme content and utterly unpredictable endings.
Her actual appearance, however, was another matter.
C.Curo was a strikingly beautiful silver-gray-haired woman who dressed casually, kept her apartment reasonably tidy, and could pass through an ordinary shopping district without attracting anything more alarming than an admiring glance.
Nobody would suspect that she regularly wrote scenes capable of making readers reconsider their relationship with literature.
She intended to keep it that way.
No public author photographs.
No interviews showing her face.
No personal information attached to her pen name.
Too many readers had already reported her work after discovering, apparently to their horror, that the author famous for extreme fiction actually wrote extreme fiction.
Some had even attempted to investigate her private identity.
C.Curo had learned her lesson.
Let people criticize the stories.
They didn't need to know who bought the groceries.
With her newest chapter safely published, she opened another browser tab.
"Let's see..."
DDD: Dark Night Recollections.
Her expression softened slightly.
E.Red.
She had always admired that woman.
Their writing styles could hardly have been more different.
C.Curo transformed affection into obsession, ordinary suspicion into psychological nightmares, and romantic misunderstandings into situations requiring professional intervention.
E.Red, meanwhile, could place a delicate romance inside a frightening world without making it feel out of place.
Her love stories were like mint-lemon candy in the middle of a horror novel.
Sweet.
Refreshing.
Never too much.
C.Curo clicked the purchase button.
Naturally.
She owned every one of E.Red's books.
Then she opened E.Red's social media account.
Photos from the signing had already appeared.
E.Red smiling behind the table.
E.Red holding her latest novel.
E.Red laughing at something outside the frame.
C.Curo stopped scrolling.
"..."
She enlarged a photograph.
Beautiful.
She already knew that, of course.
E.Red's appearance had become something of a marketing advantage for her publisher.
But still.
C.Curo stared a little longer.
Next photograph.
Another lovely smile.
Next.
And beside E.Red—
Purple hair.
C.Curo's expression changed.
"...Her."
L.Night.
The manager.
The woman who appeared beside E.Red at nearly every event.
C.Curo frowned.
She examined another photograph.
There she was again.
Standing close.
Looking protective.
Far too comfortable.
Something about that woman irritated her.
It wasn't rational.
C.Curo knew that.
She had never even spoken to L.Night.
Yet something about the distance between those two women felt suspiciously familiar.
Too natural.
Too intimate.
That wasn't how a mere employee stood beside her employer.
C.Curo narrowed her eyes.
"What exactly are you to her...?"
She paused.
Then frowned at herself.
Why was she interrogating a photograph?
A perfectly reasonable woman would have stopped there.
C.Curo opened a blank document instead.
She dealt with her irritation in the mature, emotionally responsible manner expected of an accomplished horror author.
She wrote a story about it.
A talented novelist falls in love with her manager.
The manager appears protective, dependable, almost excessively considerate.
She organizes the novelist's schedule.
Filters her invitations.
Discourages unnecessary friendships.
Slowly, her protection becomes control.
Until the novelist discovers that her entire life has been arranged around one person's possessiveness.
The ending was short.
Absurd.
And thoroughly unpleasant.
C.Curo reread it.
"...Perfect."
Publish.
A harmless little act of revenge against a purple-haired stranger who had never done anything to her.
Several days later, a particular comment caught her attention.
RRR:
I should show this to my manager. This is hilarious.
C.Curo stopped.
"...What?"
Manager?
Of all possible words.
Her mind immediately jumped to E.Red.
No.
Impossible.
Lots of people had managers.
Still...
She clicked the account.
Private.
Almost empty.
No useful identifying information.
C.Curo frowned.
Then replied.
King of no mercy:
You have a manager? Someone important?
The answer arrived surprisingly quickly.
RRR:
Not important. Just need one for work~
C.Curo went still.
That tilde.
She stared at it.
E.Red often ended her casual public replies with exactly that kind of playful punctuation.
It proved nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
But—
She opened E.Red's public profile.
Thank you for coming today~
That's a secret~
I'll try not to make the next one too frightening~
C.Curo slowly returned to the other tab.
"..."
Could the platform have recommended her story to E.Red?
Could RRR actually be her private account?
Which meant—
C.Curo looked at the short story she'd written out of jealousy.
Then at the comment.
This is hilarious.
She covered her mouth.
"...What kind of reaction is that?"
C.Curo eventually decided to investigate using her greatest talent.
Another story.
This time, the setting was a zombie apocalypse.
Civilization had collapsed.
Entire cities were abandoned.
Survivors spent their days searching for food, medicine, and somewhere reasonably safe to sleep.
Into this miserable world, C.Curo introduced two women.
Initially strangers.
Then allies.
Then increasingly inseparable companions.
They protected each other, shared supplies, learned each other's habits, and gradually developed feelings neither had time to explain.
C.Curo, who rarely wrote straightforward romance, suddenly became extraordinarily enthusiastic.
If civilization had ended, surely romantic etiquette could be considered an optional inconvenience.
Her protagonists flirted during supply runs.
They argued about whose turn it was to prepare breakfast.
They exchanged affectionate remarks while barricading doors.
And then came C.Curo's masterpiece.
An abandoned convenience store.
A wall of zombies pressing against the glass.
Two exhausted women.
A sandwich.
And one unfortunate person who had collapsed earlier and would never be getting up again.
There were no chairs.
One protagonist looked down.
Then at her companion.
"Seat?"
"Seat."
They settled themselves on the unfortunate person's bundled-up form and began sharing lunch.
Outside, the zombies watched through the glass.
Inside, one woman affectionately offered her companion half a sandwich.
"Open wide."
"Are we seriously having a date right now?"
"Do you have somewhere better to be?"
Outside, a zombie pressed its face against the window.
The woman glanced over.
"Apparently we have an audience."
"Then we should give them a good show."
She offered another bite of sandwich.
C.Curo typed the entire exchange without changing her expression.
Then reread it.
"...Excellent."
The unfortunate human cushion had been given a few personality details.
Lazy.
Territorial.
Unhelpfully protective.
For reasons C.Curo refused to examine, the resemblance to a certain manager was difficult to ignore.
She published the story.
The comments arrived quickly.
What kind of plot is this?
Why are they eating sandwiches on that poor person?!
Forget the zombies. These two are the actual threat.
The unlucky person deserved a better ending.
C.Curo liked that one.
Then—
RRR:
Whoa... you write yuri too?
C.Curo smiled slowly.
There.
She was waiting for that.
Over the following weeks, RRR became a familiar presence beneath C.Curo's stories.
Sometimes a comment.
Sometimes an amused reaction.
Sometimes a surprisingly thoughtful observation.
Eventually, C.Curo stopped pretending she hadn't noticed.
King of no mercy:
Are you new? I don't remember seeing you before.
RRR:
Yeah. The platform recommended that manager story to me. Your writing has a really dark sense of humor~
So it had been the recommendation algorithm.
That explained one mystery.
The other remained.
And entirely coincidentally, C.Curo's work began featuring more women falling in love.
Much more often.
She still wrote horror.
Terrible decisions were still made.
Forbidden rituals still went spectacularly wrong.
But romantic tension increasingly appeared in the middle of otherwise disastrous situations.
In one story, two women performing an ancient summoning ritual discovered that holding hands produced a stronger magical response than chanting.
They immediately began designing increasingly elaborate experiments.
The summoned entity eventually requested a transfer.
C.Curo considered this perfectly reasonable genre development.
Her established readers disagreed.
Reader:
Is this still horror or lesbian fiction now?
King of no mercy:
If you don't like it, block me.
Reader:
Never mind. I'll keep reading. It's hard to find horror this unhinged anymore.
C.Curo liked the reply.
Then another notification appeared.
RRR:
There's nothing wrong with lesbian romance. I like it a lot~
C.Curo froze.
She read it again.
Then smiled.
"...Interesting."
At the very least, RRR liked women in fiction.
And if RRR was E.Red—
Her gaze shifted toward a photograph of E.Red standing beside L.Night.
"..."
The irritating purple-haired creature was still there.
C.Curo opened another blank document.
At E.Red's apartment, the mysterious RRR was sitting comfortably on the sofa.
She was reading C.Curo's newest story on her tablet.
This particular work involved two women trying to determine which emotional state produced the strongest response from an ancient forbidden summoning device.
The experiment had begun scientifically.
It had not remained scientific.
E.Red reached a passage in which the researchers solemnly debated whether one additional romantic confession might finally convince the supernatural entity to cooperate.
She laughed.
"What is wrong with this author?"
Apparently quite a lot.
She kept reading.
Then two hands suddenly covered her eyes.
"Surprise."
E.Red laughed.
"So cliché."
She caught L.Night's wrists and gently pulled her hands away.
"What are you reading?"
"A horror web novel. Want to see?"
"No."
"You haven't even looked."
"I only read yours."
E.Red paused.
Then smiled.
"That's a very efficient way to flatter an author."
"Wasn't flattering you."
"Even better."
L.Night walked around the sofa.
Then stopped.
Her eyes had caught something on the tablet.
"Wait."
"Hm?"
"That name."
"What name?"
L.Night pointed.
King of no mercy.
"I've seen that before."
E.Red looked up.
"Where?"
"Your signing."
That got her attention.
"My signing?"
"Mm."
L.Night frowned.
"I remember someone writing it inside a book before you signed."
E.Red blinked.
"What?"
"Something like..."
L.Night gestured vaguely.
"King of no mercy's..."
She pointed toward an imaginary blank space.
"Then your signature underneath."
E.Red stared.
Someone had actually written that?
King of no mercy's [E.Red's signature].
She began laughing.
"Oh my goodness!"
"What?"
"That sounds like she was claiming me!"
"Exactly."
L.Night's expression darkened.
E.Red laughed harder.
"Wait. Is that why you remembered?"
"No."
"You just said exactly."
"I meant the grammar."
"The grammar offended you?"
"Yes."
E.Red narrowed her eyes.
"You don't care about grammar."
"I can start."
She laughed again.
Then the significance returned.
"Wait."
King of no mercy.
The anonymous horror writer who had never publicly appeared.
The author she'd been following for weeks.
Apparently, that person had stood right in front of her.
At one of her own signings.
"Do you remember what they looked like?"
L.Night tried.
Genuinely.
"...No."
"Nothing?"
"The handwriting was terrible."
"Hair?"
"..."
"Clothes?"
"..."
"Height?"
"..."
"L.Night!"
"It was extremely ugly cursive."
E.Red covered her face.
Unbelievable.
Then she thought about how L.Night behaved during signings.
Men received her full attention.
Every suspicious glance.
Every unnecessary step.
Every hand moving too close to E.Red.
Women, however, were treated differently.
L.Night rarely studied their faces.
She watched the books being passed across the table, their hands when necessary, and occasionally whatever happened to be lying on the floor.
Which meant—
E.Red glanced at her.
It was a woman.
Almost certainly.
She didn't share the deduction.
Instead, she reopened King of no mercy's profile.
The manager story.
The zombie romance.
The sudden increase in yuri fiction.
And the increasingly curious replies to RRR.
E.Red smiled.
Oh.
Could those stories have been written with her in mind?
The thought was ridiculous.
Entirely unsupported.
And rather delightful.
L.Night noticed her expression.
"What?"
"Nothing~"
"You look suspicious."
"Do I?"
"Yes."
E.Red gently tapped the tip of her nose.
"Maybe I am~"
C.Curo would never deny that she was a little strange.
But strange didn't mean stupid.
She wrote complicated mysteries and psychological traps for entertainment.
And next Saturday, E.Red had another signing event.
Her copy of DDD: Dark Night Recollections had arrived.
Pristine.
Unsigned.
That needed correcting.
C.Curo considered the situation.
RRR might be E.Red.
If so, appearing at a signing and openly revealing her pen name would be reckless.
Fortunately, C.Curo had always attended previous events in elaborate disguises.
Hat.
Mask.
Sunglasses.
Clothes chosen to reveal as little identifying information as possible.
She generally looked like an exhausted business traveler who had stopped for a signature before catching an urgent train to another city.
But this time—
C.Curo stood before her mirror.
Perhaps a little experiment wouldn't hurt.
She wanted to know how E.Red looked at women.
And, admittedly, what that purple-haired creature thought of her.
Saturday arrived.
C.Curo received the answer to the second question immediately.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
L.Night wasn't looking at her.
C.Curo had arrived without her usual disguise.
Silver-gray hair loose.
A stylish but understated outfit.
Her face completely visible.
She joined the line.
No one recognized her.
Naturally.
Nobody knew what King of no mercy looked like.
When she finally reached the signing table, E.Red looked up.
Their eyes met.
C.Curo noticed immediately.
E.Red's smile changed.
Not dramatically.
Just a slight pause.
A moment of genuine appreciation.
A little curiosity.
There's hope.
C.Curo's confidence rose.
She glanced toward L.Night.
The purple-haired woman was looking at the floor.
C.Curo waited.
Nothing.
L.Night appeared to be watching a scrap of paper move in the air-conditioning.
Idiot.
C.Curo's opinion of her declined further.
Then she opened her mouth.
And immediately destroyed every ounce of mysterious dignity she'd brought with her.
"I really love your books!"
Her voice came out much brighter than intended.
She heard herself.
Her brain stopped.
This was not King of no mercy.
This was an enthusiastic fan.
A complete fan.
E.Red blinked.
Then laughed warmly.
"Is this your first time here? I think I'd remember someone as pretty as you."
C.Curo's thoughts collided.
Pretty.
She said pretty.
C.Curo glanced toward L.Night again.
Surely that would get some reaction.
L.Night was still following the scrap of paper.
It slid across the floor.
Her eyes followed it.
C.Curo nearly sighed.
"F-First time! Sort of..."
E.Red's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Sort of?"
"I mean... first time at this location."
Technically defensible.
"Of course~"
There it was.
The tilde in human form.
C.Curo nearly forgot her own name.
E.Red signed the novel.
"Would you like a photograph?"
"N-No! Thank you!"
Too fast.
C.Curo immediately corrected herself.
"I'm not particularly comfortable with photographs."
"That's perfectly fine."
E.Red handed her the book.
Their fingers came briefly close around the cover.
E.Red smiled again.
C.Curo felt her composure weakening.
Wonderful.
She'd successfully arrived looking like an elegant, mysterious woman.
And departed looking like someone who had just survived meeting her favorite celebrity.
Behind her, the next reader approached.
A middle-aged woman.
L.Night glanced briefly at the woman's shoes.
Then returned to studying the floor.
C.Curo looked at her.
Just an idiot.
She was now completely certain.
Unfortunately, C.Curo had underestimated E.Red.
After the event, E.Red and L.Night returned to their usual café.
E.Red stirred her drink.
"L.Night."
"Hm?"
"Do we get many new readers at each signing?"
L.Night considered the question.
"Not really."
"Mostly regulars?"
"Yes."
"Sometimes a few new men?"
"Mm."
E.Red smiled.
"And women?"
L.Night shrugged.
Of course.
Women were apparently outside her statistical universe.
"Do you remember a woman who used to attend wearing a hat, sunglasses, and a mask?"
L.Night frowned.
"...Maybe."
"She appeared at several earlier signings."
A pause.
"...Oh."
"You remember?"
"Yes. I noticed her once. Then realized she was a woman and stopped paying attention."
E.Red almost laughed.
"Interesting."
"What?"
"Because today, we had a very beautiful female reader I don't remember seeing before."
L.Night blinked.
"Did we?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
E.Red stared.
"That's all?"
"What?"
"She was exceptionally beautiful."
"Good for her."
E.Red leaned closer.
"Silver-gray hair. Lovely face. Very charming."
L.Night looked at her.
"..."
"Such a shame you didn't notice."
"Why?"
E.Red smiled sweetly.
"Perhaps you would've liked her."
L.Night frowned.
"No."
"You haven't even seen her."
"Don't need to."
E.Red laughed.
Underneath the teasing, however, she felt something unexpectedly warm.
L.Night didn't ignore female readers because she couldn't recognize beauty.
She simply seemed reluctant to pay other women the kind of close attention she reserved for E.Red.
Such a peculiar creature.
E.Red took another sip of coffee.
And decided not to tell her what she suspected about the silver-haired reader.
Not yet.
A few days later, L.Night was sitting on the sofa, completely absorbed in a document.
E.Red approached with two cans of cold soda.
She pressed one against L.Night's cheek.
"Surprise~"
L.Night accepted it without looking up.
"Mm."
E.Red stared.
Not even startled.
Her manager was deeply focused on something.
Her newest manuscript outline.
"So?"
"Hm?"
"What do you think of the draft?"
"Good."
"Only good?"
"Very good."
E.Red laughed.
Then L.Night asked:
"Is this your first love triangle?"
E.Red paused.
"Oh? You noticed?"
"You usually write couples."
"True."
The new novel was a light psychological thriller about a witness to a major crime.
Two investigators were assigned to protect her.
One was methodical and reserved.
The other was bold and intuitive.
Both gradually developed romantic feelings for the witness, complicating an already dangerous investigation.
A love triangle.
Simple enough.
Entirely fictional.
"So?" E.Red asked. "What do you think?"
L.Night scrolled.
"The tension is excellent."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"And the relationships?"
"Interesting."
"Which woman do you prefer?"
L.Night considered it seriously.
"...Both."
E.Red blinked.
"Both?"
"They're both good."
"So what should happen?"
L.Night shrugged.
"Why can't the witness keep both of them?"
Silence.
E.Red stared.
Then slowly covered her mouth.
Her shoulders began trembling.
L.Night looked up.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you laughing?"
"I'm not."
"You are."
E.Red could barely contain herself.
You really think that?
The woman who treated male readers like security threats was now enthusiastically recommending a romantic arrangement involving three women.
And apparently saw no contradiction whatsoever.
"Well," E.Red said sweetly, "if you like that idea, perhaps I'll propose it to the publisher."
"Good."
"Really?"
"Yes."
E.Red smiled.
Then I'll take your advice very seriously, darling.
There was no dishonesty involved.
She had shown L.Night the outline.
Asked for her opinion.
And received an enthusiastic recommendation.
Besides, they weren't even officially dating.
Technically.
E.Red's smile became almost unbearable.
The publisher approved her proposal immediately.
A love triangle?
From E.Red?
Excellent.
A new direction for an established psychological thriller author.
Promotional potential practically wrote itself.
Within two weeks, the early campaign began.
Cover illustrations.
Character teasers.
A short preview describing the witness and the two investigators assigned to protect her.
And the title:
DDD: Major Crime Mathematical Formula
Across the city, C.Curo opened the announcement.
She was holding a glass of water.
Her eyes moved across the description.
A woman.
Two other women.
A complicated romantic triangle.
Her fingers loosened.
Crash!
The glass struck the floor.
Water spread across the tiles.
C.Curo didn't move.
"..."
She read the announcement again.
Then again.
This cannot be a coincidence.
E.Red.
L.Night.
And—
C.Curo slowly turned toward the mirror.
"...Me?"
No.
Absolutely not.
She was imagining things.
Probably.
But why now?
Why a triangle?
Why two women interested in the same woman?
Why did the official preview emphasize that the witness might refuse to choose?
C.Curo stared at the screen.
Her brain, trained by years of constructing psychological nightmares, began assembling possibilities at a terrifying speed.
She already disliked the results.
That night, C.Curo had a dream.
A terrible dream.
In it, she and E.Red were enjoying a beautiful romantic evening.
Everything was perfect.
Until L.Night appeared.
C.Curo expected an argument.
Possibly a declaration of territorial ownership.
Perhaps even an attempt to chase her away.
Instead, L.Night smiled.
A genuinely pleasant smile.
And casually slipped one arm around E.Red.
Then the other around C.Curo.
"There. Problem solved."
C.Curo froze.
E.Red smiled.
"How considerate~"
"No."
C.Curo tried to escape.
L.Night simply looked pleased with herself.
"Why? E.Red said both."
"No!"
E.Red laughed.
"Oh, don't be shy~"
"NO!"
C.Curo woke with a scream.
"AAAAAH!"
She sat upright in bed.
Breathing hard.
The room was dark.
No E.Red.
No L.Night.
No horrifyingly cheerful three-person arrangement.
C.Curo stared into the darkness.
"...What was THAT?!"
She fell backward onto her pillow.
This was unacceptable.
She wrote horror for a living.
She was supposed to give other people nightmares.
Not become the victim of one.
And yet the worst part was L.Night.
That purple-haired creature had somehow evolved from an irritating romantic rival into a woman who might enthusiastically welcome her.
C.Curo pulled the blanket over her face.
"...Absolutely not."
Meanwhile, L.Night had finally agreed to read one of King of no mercy's stories.
After considerable persuasion.
E.Red sat beside her on the sofa.
"Just one."
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"It's research."
"Your research is suspicious."
"You're my manager."
"...Fine."
L.Night accepted the tablet.
She began reading.
At first, her expression remained neutral.
Then her eyebrows moved.
Then her shoulders stiffened.
By the time she reached the ending, she sat bolt upright.
"What is WRONG with this woman?!"
E.Red burst into laughter.
"What?"
"She's corrupting literature!"
"It's psychological horror."
"This isn't psychology. This is a public health emergency!"
E.Red laughed harder.
L.Night stared at her.
"And you've been reading this?"
"Of course."
"Voluntarily?"
"Yes."
"..."
L.Night looked genuinely betrayed.
Then something else occurred to her.
E.Red had been reading this author for weeks.
Stories about strange relationships.
Possessive affection.
Women developing increasingly unreasonable attachments.
And now—
E.Red was writing a love triangle.
L.Night's eyes widened.
"This author is influencing you!"
E.Red smiled.
"Oh?"
"She is!"
"Jealous?"
"No!"
"Concerned?"
"Yes!"
"About my literary standards?"
"Your entire life!"
E.Red leaned against her shoulder.
"How dramatic."
L.Night took out her phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Investigating."
"Investigating what?"
"Her."
E.Red watched as L.Night found the platform and registered an account.
Username:
Purple Cat
E.Red immediately laughed.
"What kind of person calls herself a cat?"
"Me."
L.Night answered without hesitation.
That made E.Red laugh harder.
Then E.Red pointed at a familiar commenter.
"This one is me~"
L.Night followed her finger.
RRR.
She froze.
Then scrolled.
RRR was everywhere.
Comments.
Replies.
Playful remarks.
Occasional requests for more stories.
L.Night slowly turned toward E.Red.
"You..."
E.Red smiled.
"You've been talking to her?!"
"Sometimes."
"Sometimes?!"
L.Night looked scandalized.
"She writes that unhealthy nonsense!"
"Mm."
"And you're encouraging her?!"
"Well, she's entertaining."
"She's dangerous!"
E.Red smiled.
"You're jealous."
"I'm protecting you!"
"Of course~"
L.Night glared at the screen.
Then began typing.
Purple Cat:
What kind of romance is this? Have these characters ever heard of healthy communication?
Another comment.
Purple Cat:
You should seriously consider consulting a relationship therapist.
And another.
Purple Cat:
Two girlfriends and one protagonist? Does your fictional universe not have consequences?
E.Red watched the comments appear.
She was smiling the entire time.
Across the city, C.Curo returned to her computer.
New comments.
A great many of them.
All from the same account.
Purple Cat.
Her mouth twitched.
"...Purple Cat?"
She opened the profile.
Brand-new.
Almost empty.
Created that day.
Then she read the comments again.
"..."
It couldn't be.
Could it?
L.Night.
That stupid purple-haired manager.
Had she actually entered C.Curo's territory to pick a fight?
C.Curo stared.
Then slowly smiled.
"Perfect."
The cat had arrived at exactly the right moment.
For days, she'd been tormented by that ridiculous dream.
L.Night smiling.
L.Night embracing E.Red.
L.Night somehow attempting to include C.Curo in the arrangement.
But now—
The real purple cat was openly insulting her fiction.
Wonderful.
Normal.
Hostile.
Irritating.
Exactly as nature intended.
C.Curo placed her fingers on the keyboard.
King of no mercy:
New little follower and you're already hissing?
She paused.
Her smile widened.
Be good. Go buy yourself a tube of cat paste and calm down, little kitty.
Send.
The effect was immediate.
Across the city—
"LITTLE KITTY?!"
L.Night shot upright.
E.Red, who had been leaning comfortably against her, nearly slid off the sofa.
"CAT PASTE?!"
E.Red caught herself against the cushion.
"...You named yourself after a cat."
"That's different!"
"How?"
"Cat and little kitty are completely different!"
E.Red collapsed into laughter.
L.Night began typing furiously.
Purple Cat:
Who's your little kitty? Watch yourself, cult leader.
The reply came quickly.
King of no mercy:
Good kitty. You learned how to hiss.
"L.Night," E.Red managed between laughs, "please breathe."
"I AM BREATHING."
The regular readers noticed almost immediately.
Reader:
Where did this innocent creature come from?
Reader:
Pure-love kitty wandered into the wrong forum.
Reader:
Did you even read the content warning before entering?
Purple Cat:
I can read perfectly well.
Reader:
Then why are you surprised?
Purple Cat:
Because having permission to write something doesn't mean it makes sense!
King of no mercy:
My apologies. I wasn't aware cats required narrative realism.
Purple Cat:
STOP CALLING ME A CAT.
Reader:
But that's literally your username.
E.Red had to put her drink down.
She was laughing too hard.
The argument continued for hours.
Purple Cat versus King of no mercy.
Purple Cat versus the regular readers.
Purple Cat versus anyone who made the mistake of using the word kitty.
Finally, RRR entered the discussion.
RRR:
Does anyone else think Purple Cat has amazing chemistry with our merciless cult leader?~
Silence.
Then—
Reader:
WAIT.
Reader:
Enemies to lovers?
Reader:
Classic romantic comedy.
Reader:
The cult leader finally found her soulmate.
Reader:
Poor little kitty. She's already caught.
L.Night's face changed color.
"E.RED!"
E.Red smiled innocently.
"What?"
"WHY ARE YOU ENCOURAGING THEM?!"
"Because it's funny~"
"IT ISN'T."
E.Red considered the forum.
Then added another comment.
RRR:
I wonder which cat is more dangerous~
L.Night stared.
Then replied immediately.
Purple Cat:
Me.
Across the city, C.Curo stared at the reply.
"..."
Then burst into laughter.
For the first time that week, her terrible dream didn't feel quite so terrible.
The arguments continued.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
Purple Cat became a familiar figure in King of no mercy's comment sections.
Some readers greeted her affectionately.
Others deliberately provoked her.
C.Curo occasionally posted a particularly absurd romantic premise just to see how quickly Purple Cat would appear.
E.Red watched the entire development with increasing delight.
Her own novel continued progressing in the meantime.
The publisher approved promotional illustrations.
Preorders opened.
The discussion surrounding DDD: Major Crime Mathematical Formula grew steadily louder.
And C.Curo, despite insisting that the entire matter was beneath her dignity, followed every announcement.
When the book finally went on sale, she purchased it immediately.
Naturally.
She owned every one of E.Red's books.
There was only one problem.
The copy needed a signature.
And C.Curo had decided to do something exceptionally foolish.
At the next signing, C.Curo arrived dressed with unusual care.
No hat.
No mask.
No sunglasses.
Her silver-gray hair was neatly arranged, her clothes elegant without being extravagant.
She looked perfectly composed.
Exactly the sort of woman one might imagine behind a mysterious literary persona.
In her hand was the new novel.
Inside, she had written something.
In her usual catastrophically illegible cursive.
King of no mercy's—
And beneath it, a blank space.
A place for E.Red's signature.
A private signal.
A little literary joke.
Perhaps even a romantic gesture, if E.Red understood it.
C.Curo smiled to herself.
Surely E.Red would recognize the name.
And if she didn't?
Nothing lost.
Nobody else could possibly decipher the handwriting.
C.Curo reached the front of the line.
E.Red looked up.
Their eyes met.
Recognition flickered immediately.
"Oh. Welcome back~"
C.Curo smiled.
"Hello."
E.Red glanced down at the book.
Then at C.Curo.
Something about that deliberate expression made her curious.
She opened the cover.
Read the handwritten line.
And smiled.
"Oh..."
C.Curo's heart leaped.
There.
The moment.
The connection.
The unspoken recognition she'd imagined.
Then L.Night leaned over.
She looked at the page.
Paused.
And pointed.
"YOU'RE KING OF NO MERCY?!"
The entire bookstore seemed to stop breathing.
C.Curo froze.
"..."
E.Red closed her eyes for half a second.
Oh dear.
Several people turned around.
A reader near the front whispered:
"King of no mercy?"
Another looked up.
"The horror author?"
C.Curo's mind emptied.
Every carefully constructed layer of anonymity.
Every separate account.
Every cautious signing-event disguise.
All destroyed by one purple-haired idiot with the reading comprehension of a forensic handwriting specialist.
She slowly turned toward L.Night.
"You..."
L.Night stared back.
"You're the cult leader!"
E.Red acted immediately.
"Oh! Wonderful, you're here!"
She stood and smiled with impeccable professional warmth.
"We actually have a publishing collaboration discussion scheduled after the event. Thank you for making the trip!"
C.Curo blinked.
"...What?"
E.Red continued smoothly.
"Please wait for us after the signing. We'll discuss the details privately."
The event staff nodded.
A few curious readers lost interest.
A private publishing meeting?
How ordinary.
E.Red gently returned the book to C.Curo.
She spoke softly enough that only the three women could hear.
"Don't leave."
C.Curo's heart jumped.
L.Night frowned.
C.Curo managed a small nod.
"...All right."
She left the line.
Took out her phone.
Opened her author dashboard.
And unpublished her entire column.
Immediately.
No warning.
No farewell.
No explanation.
Her readers wouldn't even have time to ask what had happened.
The faster, the better.
King of no mercy had survived countless reader complaints and attempts to uncover her identity.
But apparently, one purple cat was enough to bring the entire operation down.
Awkward.
Extremely awkward.
The three women sat around a small round table in a nearby café.
E.Red looked perfectly comfortable.
L.Night was unusually quiet.
C.Curo wanted to become invisible.
"So..."
E.Red smiled.
"What should I call you?"
C.Curo hesitated.
Her online identity had already been exposed to the two women.
There was little point pretending otherwise.
And yet the thought of more people connecting her appearance to her fiction made her deeply uncomfortable.
Perhaps E.Red would understand.
"...C.Curo."
A pause.
"Cershina Chiaroscuro."
E.Red smiled.
"Then it's lovely to meet you."
C.Curo nodded.
E.Red studied her for a moment.
"You really are beautiful."
C.Curo's composure collapsed instantly.
"Th-Thank you!"
E.Red noticed.
Of course she noticed.
The cold, mysterious cult leader.
The author whose fiction could terrify thousands of readers.
Reduced to a shy, flustered woman by one ordinary compliment.
Interesting.
Meanwhile, L.Night was staring.
For the first time, she was actually looking properly at a female reader.
Her thoughts had become unexpectedly complicated.
I thought she'd look like some kind of demon queen.
Instead, C.Curo looked remarkably normal.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
Almost too beautiful for someone who wrote the things L.Night had read.
She's really the author?
L.Night kept staring.
C.Curo noticed.
"What?"
"...Nothing."
E.Red tilted her head.
"L.Night."
"Hm?"
"Why are you staring at her? That's a little rude."
L.Night considered the question.
Then answered with complete honesty.
"...You're prettier than I expected, unhealthy cat."
C.Curo's mouth twitched.
"WHAT?!"
E.Red covered her smile.
L.Night looked genuinely confused.
"What?"
"Unhealthy cat?!"
"You write unhealthy stories."
"THAT DOESN'T MAKE ME A CAT!"
"Your handwriting does."
C.Curo stopped.
"...What?"
L.Night pointed at the signed book.
"I recognized your handwriting."
C.Curo stared.
"How?"
"It was the same as before."
"..."
"And your name was written there."
C.Curo's expression slowly tightened.
The handwriting.
That cursed handwriting.
The exact secret signal she'd intended for E.Red.
And the only person who could consistently decipher it was—
L.Night.
C.Curo inhaled slowly.
Why her?
Again.
Why her?!
E.Red watched the realization unfold.
Her smile became dangerously sweet.
"Oh."
C.Curo immediately looked at her.
"Don't."
"I haven't said anything."
"You're smiling."
"Am I?"
"Yes."
E.Red laughed softly.
Then decided to rescue the conversation.
For now.
"You know," E.Red said, "perhaps we genuinely could collaborate on something."
C.Curo blinked.
"Collaborate?"
"You're a talented horror writer. I could introduce your work to my publisher."
C.Curo nearly choked.
More people discovering that the elegant woman seated before them was actually the infamous King of no mercy?
Absolutely not.
She shook her head.
"I prefer remaining anonymous."
"Of course."
E.Red's answer came easily.
"We wouldn't have to publicize your identity."
C.Curo paused.
That was unexpectedly considerate.
E.Red continued.
"Actually, I'm sorry about what happened at the signing."
L.Night looked up.
"..."
E.Red glanced at her.
"L.Night."
"Hm?"
"Apologize."
L.Night frowned.
"...For reading?"
"For announcing her identity to an entire bookstore."
"Oh."
A pause.
Then L.Night looked toward C.Curo.
"...Sorry."
C.Curo blinked.
It was a surprisingly straightforward apology.
She hadn't expected that.
"...Fine."
E.Red smiled.
"Good."
For several seconds, the atmosphere became almost peaceful.
Then C.Curo asked the question she'd wanted to ask for months.
"So... you two are...?"
"L.Night is my manager."
E.Red answered calmly.
Then added:
"And she doesn't actually eat cat paste."
C.Curo produced an exceptionally stiff smile.
"Of course."
L.Night frowned.
"Why would I?"
E.Red's shoulders trembled.
Another silence.
C.Curo looked at E.Red.
Then at L.Night.
Manager.
Just manager?
She wasn't convinced.
But there was another problem.
E.Red was smiling at her with an expression C.Curo had begun to recognize.
The same one she'd seen beneath RRR's comments.
Amused.
Curious.
A little too confident.
C.Curo remembered the countless times she'd tried to provoke that anonymous reader.
And how often RRR had simply responded with playful enthusiasm.
Sometimes even asking for more.
C.Curo's ears warmed.
This woman is dangerous.
More dangerous than she'd anticipated.
Possibly more dangerous than her own fictional monsters.
E.Red tilted her head.
"C.Curo?"
"...Yes?"
"You're spacing out too."
She glanced at L.Night.
Then back at C.Curo.
"Why are both of you doing that?"
Two women.
One purple-haired.
One silver-gray-haired.
Both staring into nothing.
E.Red sighed.
Two cats.
She was surrounded.
"Well."
E.Red reached into her bag.
She placed a business card on the table in front of C.Curo.
"Would you leave me your contact information?"
C.Curo stared at it.
"...Mine?"
"Of course."
E.Red smiled.
"We can talk about a possible cross-work collaboration sometime. Privately, if you'd prefer."
C.Curo's heart gave an unmistakable leap.
This was real.
E.Red was inviting her to remain in contact.
Not as an anonymous reader.
Not as King of no mercy.
As C.Curo.
"...Okay."
She reached for a pen.
E.Red watched her carefully.
Then added:
"Please don't use cursive."
C.Curo froze.
E.Red's smile widened.
"I'm not a cat."
"..."
C.Curo's ears turned bright red.
"...Yes."
With extraordinary concentration, she wrote the most painfully legible contact information of her life.
L.Night leaned forward to look.
C.Curo immediately covered the card.
"Don't."
L.Night frowned.
"What?"
"Don't read it first."
"Why?"
"Because I'm writing it for E.Red."
Silence.
E.Red raised an eyebrow.
L.Night looked at C.Curo.
C.Curo looked back.
And there it was again.
That familiar spark of hostility.
E.Red smiled.
"Oh dear."
L.Night folded her arms.
"You're still suspicious."
C.Curo narrowed her eyes.
"And you're still a territorial cat."
"I'm not territorial."
"You literally started an argument with me online."
"You started it."
"You called my fiction unhealthy!"
"It is!"
"Then why did you read so much of it?!"
E.Red quietly lifted her coffee.
This was wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
She looked from one woman to the other.
Then said, almost thoughtfully:
"You know..."
Both turned toward her.
E.Red smiled.
"Perhaps the two of you would have wonderful chemistry."
Silence.
A very dangerous silence.
Then—
"WHAT?!"
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"
user
!end