Rewrite Our Love? Too Late-Chapter 110: The Girl Behind the Screen, and the Ones We Draw Toward Us

Chapter 110 - The Girl Behind the Screen, and the Ones We Draw Toward Us

"So that's it..."

"I understand now... this feeling."

"How wonderful. This is Kujou Megumi? Truly... amazing."

In the soft murmurs of her awe, Eromanga-sensei continued to draw.

This time, there was no need for rough sketches or building up a character's base from shapes and structure. Her pen moved with complete confidence, each brushstroke flowing from top to bottom as if guided by something beyond her—something she had never felt before. It wasn't just technique—it was soul.

From those lines, a girl was born.

Kujou Megumi.

Her features bore less resemblance to Kato Megumi's real face than before. But what emerged instead was something deeper: an expression in her eyes, and a barely-there, ethereal presence that lingered around her. It wasn't about physical likeness anymore. It was about spirit.

A scent like tuberose—soft, gentle, quietly intoxicating—seemed to waft from the painting. At first glance, the character didn't astonish anyone. But upon a second, a third look... she stayed with you. She drew you in. You found yourself staring, unable to tear your eyes away. Her silence spoke volumes.

"Eromanga-sensei."

"Mm."

"Kujou Megumi asks for your help."

"Leave it to me—with peace of mind!"

They said no more.

There was no mention of payment. No talk of contracts or deadlines. The call ended quickly, but something lingered in the air long after.

Somewhere in Tokyo.

A white glow radiated from the screen in a dimly lit room. A figure stood up slowly.

With a small hiss of breath, the giant anime mask was removed, revealing a face that rarely saw sunlight. Silver hair cascaded in waves like a river of moonlight. Her cheeks carried the softness of youth, her smile bright and genuine as she exhaled.

Izumi Sagiri.

The real name behind the moniker Eromanga-sensei.

Her mother once held that title. A legend in her own right. But now, Sagiri carried the mantle.

Despite her tender age, Sagiri was already considered a prodigy in the illustration world. Her art captivated audiences all across the internet. No one had noticed the change in identity when she quietly took over the pen name. That in itself was a testament to her talent.

Her past, however, was a story of its own.

At twelve, Sagiri's mother had remarried, bringing her to live in the Izumi household. They'd been happy—blissfully so. But a tragic accident during their honeymoon had taken both her mother and stepfather from her.

And left Sagiri alone.

She was adopted by her aunt, her stepfather's younger sister. But the emotional shock sent Sagiri into a spiral. Withdrawn and overwhelmed, she eventually shut herself in completely. Her aunt, fresh out of college and unprepared for motherhood, tried to force Sagiri out of her room. The tough love approach only deepened her wounds.

From that day until now, Sagiri hadn't stepped outside her room even once.

But within that room, she discovered the world of light novels.

Not the fluffy youth romcoms—they stabbed too close to her heart, too cheerful, too bright. Like watching a distant summer festival through a window she could never open. It was painful.

Until today.

Today, as she browsed online, she stumbled across a blog post. A blogger she followed had posted a glowing recommendation for a new light novel: "Saekano."

The post was full of praise. Overflowing, in fact. But it was the mention of fantasy elements that caught Sagiri's attention. With a shrug, she clicked on it. "Let's see what the hype is about."

Then she started reading.

That morning turned into something magical.

The words were delicate—gentle as petals drifting through a summer schoolyard. For the first time in years, Sagiri could feel the sun on her face again, even if only in her mind. She wasn't alone in that world. A girl named Megumi walked beside her, soothing her quietly, healing her gently.

She read until tears soaked her blanket.

She couldn't stop crying.

But more than that—she had to know what came next. Scanning the site, she checked if there was a published version. And there, in bold letters:

"Illustrators Wanted."

Sagiri's heart skipped a beat.

This story, which had touched the deepest corners of her broken spirit... she wanted to be part of it. She needed to.

Using her artist account, she messaged the author: Yukimi Azuma.

Then, unexpectedly, a video call request popped up. Flustered, Sagiri scrambled—mask on, voice changer active. Only then did she accept the call.

She had wanted to be angry at the suddenness. But the voice on the other side was calm, respectful... serious.

And those words—_"Put your heart and soul into your work"—_echoed what her mother used to say.

It broke down her defenses.

After the call ended, Sagiri shed her sportswear and twirled joyfully in a spaghetti-strap dress, doing an otaku dance in her room. No one was watching. No one had to. She was happy.

A chime from her phone—Yukimi Azuma had sent over a full manuscript of the first volume and a sample contract. Sagiri didn't even glance at the contract.

She dove headfirst into the manuscript.

This time, the words didn't just resonate—they lived.

Megumi was no longer just a character. She was real. Sagiri could see her, hear her, feel her.

But when it came to the male protagonist... something had changed.

She could no longer fully immerse herself in him.

Because the boy from the video call—the one with that calm voice and clear gaze—he seemed to have stepped out of the pages himself. Until now, she'd thought the author exaggerated the character. No real guy could be like that. But after today...

Sagiri wasn't so sure anymore.

Pouting slightly, cheeks puffed, she grabbed her drawing tablet.

She couldn't help it.

The scenes between the boy and the girl flowed through her mind like a movie. She didn't even have to imagine. All she had to do was draw what she saw.

Elsewhere, at Yukima Azuma's home:

"You're leaving already?" Azuma asked, walking Megumi to the door. "No dinner?"

"I'd love to stay, but my sister's off today and came home. I have to cook. Otherwise, she'll starve to death."

Azuma chuckled. "Sounds like the younger sister spoiled the older into a brat."

"Don't say that if you ever meet her," Megumi warned.

"Why not?"

"Because my sister is very sly."

Azuma nodded thoughtfully. That slyness... it did seem to run in the family, though Megumi hid it behind her quiet, polite manner.

She changed shoes, waved goodbye, and left.

Azuma, silently, walked with her to the station.

Only when the train arrived did he wave back.

Back home:

Kato Megumi stepped off the train, unlocked her front door—and instantly, her sister dashed out like a missile.

Kato Hiromi.

Six years older, black-haired, currently in her final year of university.

"Sis, what are you looking for?" Megumi asked.

"Your boyfriend! I thought you'd bring him home."

"I don't have one."

"Liar. Mom and Dad said you've spent nights away from home lately."

"I was helping a friend take care of a stray cat," Megumi replied flatly.

"Come on. That excuse is worse than mine back in the day."

Megumi gave a blank look. She remembered those nights when she'd helped Hiromi sneak around during high school. Now, her sister was engaged and due to marry right after graduation.

She was experienced. She could tell.

As her sister pried, Megumi's mind drifted to a certain boy. But they weren't dating. Not yet. Just... close. Good friends. The road ahead was still long—and crowded.

Kasumigaoka-senpai, Yukinoshita-san, the pink-haired girl from the Shimokitazawa live house... even Kirisu-sensei. The rivals were strong.

...Am I forgetting someone?

No, not important.

Right now, she wasn't ready to talk about romance.

At least, not until she succeeded.

"If you keep talking nonsense, you're cooking dinner tonight."

That shut Hiromi up. She scampered into the house like a scolded child.

"Megumi, I'm going to read a light novel! Call me when dinner's ready, love you!"

"Light novel, huh?" Megumi echoed to herself.

She entered the kitchen, tied an apron around her waist, and got to work.

Later, as the scent of food filled the air, Megumi knocked on her sister's door.

Dinner was served.

As they ate, Megumi asked quietly:

"Sis... what's the female lead in a light novel usually like?"

Hiromi raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care?"

"Just answer."

"Well... she has to be super pretty. The kind you'd notice even in a crowd."

Megumi touched her cheek, twisting a strand of hair until it tangled slightly.

"She's usually a genius in something—like a unique skill or talent."

Megumi sipped her juice. When she pulled the straw out, it had tiny bite marks on it.

"And she's got some tragic past, or a flaw in her personality. It adds depth and gives the story conflict."

Megumi paused.

Parents—both alive. A home. A doting older sister. Normal grades. Nothing tragic.

"Megumi, can you get me another bowl of miso soup?"

"Get it yourself. You're turning into a spoiled brat."

"Ehhh?! What's happening?!"