--Orba Chamber of Commerce Annex, Pasta House.

　I lost my title as the president of the Orba Chamber of Commerce and the head of the Commerce Association.
　At that time, he decided to redecorate the house as his own.
　Redecorating sounds good, but basically all he did was move all the furnishings to a newly prepared villa.

　As a result, the house has become quite lonely, and is now furnished with cheap furniture.

　It is impossible for this girl to have eyes that have grown so fat to rot.
　Everything she sees once remains in her mind, and that is why she spends her days without feeling particularly desolate even in this lonely house.

　Now, Beatrix M. Orba, who had discarded all her titles and declared herself dead, was breathing out a big sigh in her room in the villa that had become her private property.

...... I never thought I'd have to do this.

　It's a great way to make sure you're getting the most out of your vacation.
　The vermilion tinted face is comparable to her red hair.

　She lost her position, she lost her name.
　I thought I'd never be on the stage again.

　And yet, here she was.

　Several books were piled up on her desk, and she herself, sitting at her desk, was turning the pages one by one.

　She is sitting at her desk with several books stacked on her desk, and she herself is turning each page.

　And then there's a messy knocking sound.
　With a blank stare, she replies as if to say, "You kicked me again.

"Hey. I've brought you another one. This thing is crazy heavy. ......
You don't need to knock if you have your hands full.
If you're going to be so kind, why don't you get me a job where I don't have to keep my hands full? ......

　The woman who came into the room, with hair the color of a leafy vegetable, was Lieffy Lean Glide. She is the bouncer of the house, but she is just a guest.

I'm not sure what to make of it, but I'm sure it's worth it.
I'm sure you're not the only one.

　If you've got a good salary, you'll inevitably feel guilty.
　It's a good idea to have a good idea of what you're going to be doing.

　Leafy put an additional book on the desk and replaced it with the one on the desk.

"Hey, what the hell is this guy?
"You can't even read?
I can read, but I get a headache just opening a book. ...... I don't even know what the title is. I can read, but I get a headache when I open a book. ...... I don't even know what the title is. "Surely the sky is connected," "Thinking of you in my sleep," "The most important flower in the world," ...... what's the book?
Well, maybe you don't know what I'm talking about.
What is it?

　She walked back to her study with about six books in her hands, complaining about how annoying it was.

　I'm sure you'll be happy to know that I'm not the only one who's a fan of your work.

...... If you like this guy, why don't you just say you like him, it's so annoying.

　A book with an abstract title that Leafy couldn't understand.
　A book of plays, or the scripts themselves. Or written for the purpose of being read as a book.

　They took different forms, but all of them she was reading were about love.

　The setting sun shining through the window.
　I've finished all my work for the day. I have a lot more free time than I used to.
　I've been so busy lately that I'm wondering if I really have more time.

　For better or worse, though, it might be more appropriate to say that.

　At least, for her.
　For her, at least, this reading time was highly unwanted.

"Wow, you're doing that. You're pretty pushy. ...... But I don't mind. ...... Hmmm. ......

　I've been reading this stuff because I like it.
　I'm not reading this stuff because I like it, I'm reading it to appeal to people in this empty room, knowing that no one can reach me.

　Her name is Pasta Pomodoro.

　Her name is Pasta Pomodoro. A girl whose old name was taken from her and now lives by that name.

　I finish reading the book with a snap and close my eyes.
　The scene that immediately comes to mind is that of the heroine being forced against a wall and having her lips stolen. And yet, the forcefulness of her lover is never enough to make her want to push him away.
　She loves him so much that she can indulge in his euphoria while telling herself that there is nothing she can do about it.

"......

　I sniffle.
　I'm a little embarrassed to think about it any more.

　She stretched lightly, stared at the book she had finished reading, and gently moved it to the side.
　Then she unfolds a scroll.
　Some notes were written on it, and she added more with her pen.

　From Pasta's point of view, it was a very embarrassing list of words, but it was like a love letter or a love poem.

I've learned that most popular women are in love. It's a rags to riches business to be popular just by saying you love someone.

　That's what she's doing with a wicked smile on her face.

　It was a prelude to the "future of being dragged out on the stage.

　She is, after all, "Pasta-chan(9)," the most famous girl in the capital, and a popular play-by-play announcer in the arena spectacle.

　Even though she's a fictionalized version of herself, she's a "character" five years younger than her real age, and never thought she'd attract so much attention.

　It is only recently that she has realized that she has become a tool for business, although she was intended to be a garnish or a complement to Futa, the commentary brother.

　She is a charismatic female pasta girl with a huge following among men and women of all ages, especially young men and girls.

　Her next move is to play the role of a singing and dancing idol to connect the event of sword fighting.

　She is the common people's version of a princess.
　She is not a princess who should be loved by the people as a symbol of the country, but a symbol of the arena, loved by the guests.

　I never imagined that I would have to define myself as a business and "manage" it, but I am a manager.

　How can I market my business to attract customers most effectively? And how can I make a profit?



　After much thought, I came to the conclusion that "girls in love are cute .......

　This is an attribute that applies to most of the "popular girls" that she has collected as reference material.
　She had already completed that step, and was now scouring romance books to find out what exactly girls in love were.

　Beatrix is the kind of woman who pays attention to each and every detail of her life, and in order to make Pasta-chan bloom, she continues to go into the minutest details.

I'm not a princess, and I'm not a saint. If that's the case, you should use 'cute' to attract customers instead of gathering religious feelings.

　And then she said that much.

　I can feel the blood rushing to my face and it's burning.

...... What's cute about that, you idiot? I want to die for saying it.

　It's not so bad if you consider that she is 9 years old.
　The fact that she is 14 is fatal to her future growth.
　At the very least, I've come to the conclusion, based on an objective analysis of myself, that I'm visual enough to put a smile on the face of the audience.

　No problem.

　Besides, dressing up is usually enough to cover it up.
　I've worn pretty outfits out of shame, and the guy said you look better in normal clothes.

............

　But that doesn't mean you can't go out as you are.
　I'm sure he didn't mean it that way in the first place.

　I'm not going to show him.
　--Well, it doesn't matter at all, because it's not about showing him, it's about the reputation you get from the customers.

I'm not good at acting.

　I'm not bad at acting.
　At least, I originally intended to play the role of a heel talker to support Futa.
　I'm also used to talking.

　However, this is...

　I'm used to talking, but this is..." he looked down and saw something that looked like a lyric.

　At the very least, it's not the sort of thing a woman who wants to be the face of the arena should be doing, with a drawn expression on her face, as if she were a rat crawling up from the river.

　But she shakes her head in resignation, stands up, puts her hands on her chest and sings.

I'm in love with you. I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop thinking about you, even when I'm cooking like usual, or when I'm with my mom, or when I close my eyes to go to sleep, I can't stop thinking about your smiling face. All I can think about is how I can make you happy, how I can make you smile, and I can't stop thinking about the next time I'll see you.

　I can't stop thinking about the next time I'll see her.
　A naive nine-year-old girl spins a song as if she is thinking of a boy she cares about.
　She was lisping, but still serious.

　A lovely poem that shows that children are fully committed to life.

　The directness of each word also creates a different charm from the emotional mature atmosphere.

　Even though all of these things are aimed at and calculated in the creation of this song, it still has a certain charm.

"Whoa.

　I felt myself becoming something horrible, and I fell to my knees.

　Is there really a need to experience such humiliation?
　Is there really anything I want to gain by spitting out such disgusting words?

　With eyes that have lost their light like dead fish, I chant a magic incantation from my mouth.

"Sing and dance for 50 million, sing and dance for 50 million, sing and dance for 50 million, sing and dance for 50 million, sing and dance for 50 million, sing and dance for 50 million, sing and dance for 50 million.

　This is too raw and dirty for a 9 year old who was just singing about sparkling love.

　But the irony is.
　But the irony is that this is more like her, as anyone who knows her would probably agree.

"What's with the pretty girl love? Pfft.

　She slams her scroll on the floor and munches on a cupcake with her bare hands while standing.

　This bad manners, this oozing bad character.
　That's her true nature.


　She moistens her irritated, cupcake-crusted mouth with sweet hot lemonade.

......

　The mug in my hand - and the love story still sitting on my desk.

　It's a great way to make sure you're getting the most out of your time with your family and friends.

She picked up the scroll that had fallen to the floor to replace the cup. "............ was the first and most important feeling you gave me.

　I couldn't help but say that phrase.

"Gross ！！！！！！！！！！！！！！.

　The next moment, I tore the scroll to shreds.

　The queasiness of my own words was like a caterpillar crawling up my spine.

"No, no, no. I'll stick with the first one.

　I let out a small sigh and remembered the lyrics that I had just sung in a flirtatious voice.

"Because I'm in love with you. I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop thinking about you when I'm cooking, or when I'm with my mom, or when I close my eyes to go to sleep, but I can't stop thinking about your smiling face. All I can think about is how to make you happy, how to make you smile, and I can't stop thinking about the next time I'll see you.

　All I can think about is how to make you happy and how to make you smile.
　But that's the way a businessman does it, confident that the audience will be pleased.

　--If only.
　What was the phrase that tore my scroll apart uncontrollably just now?

　It was not a string of words pulled from a love story.

　It was a sentence that I found myself writing as a normal person, without the need to dress up or wear fancy clothes.

　--That's why it's so creepy.

I'm Pasta Pomodoro, and I'm nine years old!　I have a big brother I love!

　She says this with an innocent smile and practices with the sole purpose of increasing her earnings.

"My brother became a champion last time!　He's very strong.



　I'm going to make sure that I don't forget the face of the arena, and I'm going to make sure that I advertise it properly.

"I'm not giving my favorite brother to anyone!

　The girl who loves someone is cute.

"That's why I'm going to work as hard as my brother did...

　And then I came back to myself and crouched down with my knees in my hands.

"......, I'm only talking about my brother.

　I hold my head in my hands, wondering what I'm doing.

"No, it's okay. I'm your favorite little sister. Yes, Pasta Pomodoro, age 9, is--

　I stand up and clench my fists.
　You tell yourself that you are now Pasta Pomodoro, age 9.
　You make up an image in your mind that you have no choice.

"At home, she hugs me and says she loves Futa!
"You do?
Yeah, I'm the one...



　What?



　Like a doll with rusty joints, you turn around and see a door.

　There's a girl with a book.


Knock, knock, knock!　I'll cut your pay!
"Yeah, yeah!　You just said you didn't want it!