This title is too long!:Volume3 Chapter4 2

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Chapter 4-2 - June 12, I took the green train, after not doing so for a while[edit]

I'm a high school girl and a rookie voice actress, currently strangling my classmate who is my upperclassman and a Bestselling Light Novel author.

This is my predicament at the moment.

I no longer understand.

Why am I strangling sensei?

I want to let go.

But why doesn't sensei want to let go.

Is sensei grabbing my hands that are strangling him from both sides?

I don't understand.


June 24th, Thursday.

When third period ended.

"Erm, are you alright? Your face is really red."

Aizawa, two seats before me, said so, and affirmed my belief that sensei wasn't feeling right.

From the first to third period, his back and back where shaking. To be honest, whenever he shook, my attention was taken by 'him', no matter how unwilling I was, and I was troubled.

Of course, the reason being--

That I had to apologize to sensei, but delayed the apology for more than two weeks.

I felt that in school, I should not talk to sensei at all, let alone in the classroom. However, there's an exception to everything.

My decision was that it was an exception. Thus, I spoke to sensei, through Aizawa as a proxy.

I went forward to check on sensei, and found his face to be obviously red. He's probably having a fever.

I wanted to touch his forehead with my hand, but gave up on this thought. I'm a normal girl with a lower body temperature. No matter whose forehead I touch, it'll definitely feel hot.

Sensei said he would be going to the infirmary, and I gave up the urge to follow as I watched him leave.

Once he did leave, Aizawa suddenly spoke me to while I intended to return to my seat.

"How's he like?"


I exclaimed, and stared at Aizawa, who seemed a little surprised,

"...Didn't you help the teacher out with something just a few days back? I think you did talk about something, so I ask."

"Ah, I see…"

Aizawa has a girlfriend in this class called 'Nishi'. They started dating since last Christmas. All the girls in class know.

Thus, if I tell Aizawa, he might tell Nishi. At this point, Satake is willing to keep this fake secret, but Aizawa and Nishi might not. I can't beg them.

I can't reveal too much, but I can't not answer. I can't let him know what I know.

And to avoid him thinking this way, I cautiously said,

"I was talking with Satake and Endou-sensei. Sensei's rather surprising though. As for him...well, he was just working away quietly."

"Hm...doesn't he feel lonely? He's older than everyone by a year, and can't talk to anyone every day…"

I was always a liar, always acting, so I habitually had the skeptical notion 'aren't everyone else the same?'. Personally, it's the worst habit possible.

But I didn't think Aizawa was hiding anything at this point.

If I'm not being bluffed, he's probably worried for the upperclassman seated behind him.

If I deal with this well--

Aizawa might use this opportunity to chat with sensei amicably.

But I don't understand.

Is this what sensei wants?

And is this what I want?

So I tried my best to act concerned, saying,

"Hm...I guess it's up to him. It's different from telling him that he has a fever…"

"Hm, I guess so…"

Aizawa muttered, and once he heard his friend call for him, "bye then" he vanished before my eyes.


It seemed sensei was sleeping in the infirmary for a while, and finally returned to the classroom at noon break, thanking us with a red face, and went home early.

I was a little worried.

Not only for his health. What do I do when I head to Tokyo?

Regarding the script inspection, sensei can simply contact the editorial branch if there's a need to change. With so many volumes other there, there shouldn't be a need for new intonation.

There shouldn't be any issues. Nobody should be affected.

Except for one person.

"I got to apologize properly today and figure out there truth! Over the next two and a half hours, I can't run away. I'm going to face sensei properly."

And having made up my mind.

I lost motivation to attend class. Once lessons ended, I opened the smartphone, and found a sent message.

It was from sensei.

"I had a nice nap, all fine well! I'll ride the usual train. Can't be skipping the After Record. Let's continue chatting happily on the train."

That was what I believed sensei would write. I kept using my phone, only to see this message.

"Unfortunately, I can't go this week. No need for my potato chips this week. Thanks for your help in class. I'm sleepy after taking the medication. Going to sleep. Goodbye.."

I reread the message for another ten times--

Only to see those words again.


The seats on the green carriage, which I had not taken for more than two months, were spacious and comfy.

Being able to switch the seat heater on and off is a unique park to the green carriage, but I supposed there is no need for that.

The last time I took it, the weather was cold, and in a moment of interest, I tried it. Two months and so passed in an instant.

The weather outside the window's really nice, and so is the blue sky; I can see the hills clearly. Where did the plum rain go?

The train began to accelerate, and there was some level of noise inside the carriage. With the noise echoing, I said to Miss Akane, who was on the aisle-side of the twin-seater.

"I'm cursed."


She asked. "Nothing much." So I furiously retorted, and explained what happened.

"So I say, Milady, this won't do."

She suddenly pointed out my flaw.

Her lack of restraint is the reason why I respect her.

"Should you not have known this is to be expected when sensei's on sick leave? Please give up. We aren't angels. Most importantly, didn't you receive a rare message from him? First, you need to send him a message showing your concern for him. Once the After Record is done, can't you send another one to report? If it's work related, it should be a natural conversation for you. I really do think you should thank the Gods of fate for allowing you to scale this mountain little by little."

Only then did I realize the term 'speechless' existed for me.

I took out my smartphone.

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