Chapter 88
Chapter 88
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 88
Chapter Title: Fudehara Shizune
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Slide—
The calligraphy club room, tucked away in the corner of the second floor of Yumekoi Academy's annex. An outdated club that no one seeks out these days.
Calligraphy is the kind of activity parents force on their kids to improve concentration. But who would enroll in the academy just to do calligraphy? Unless someone who's been practicing since childhood happens to time their entrance perfectly, no one bothers joining.
Yet there's one girl guarding this lonely club room.
"Pardon the intrusion."
Slide—
Opening the old sliding door released a rush of inkstone and rice paper scents. The pinnacle of old-fashionedness. But amid the silence sat a woman, neatly poised in her chair.
Fudehara Shizune.
Her long white hair braided down her back. A prim posture in her hakama—though the loose top and obi sash did nothing to hide her curvaceous figure. Each subtle movement of her brush-holding arm squished and swelled her ample bosom, making the ink's aroma ripple on the page.
"S-Sanghyeon... who's that big-titted fox...?"
Harumi's voice, thick with tension. True to her words, Shizune boasted the biggest bust among the conquerable heroines. A mature, sensual body that beggared belief for an ordinary student. It rivaled any Western actress, yet differed from Reina or Mesui's allure.
Theirs sparked brutal urges like "I wanna ram my dick into that fleshlight and pound her raw till she's knocked up." Raw, direct sex appeal. But Shizune's was subtly refined elegance seeping through her modest coverage—a classy seductiveness.
Thud.
She set down her brush with an audible clack and slowly raised her head.
Fox-like features.
Even illusory fox ears and tail seemed to flicker into view.
"Who might thee be in this desolate haunt where the ancient bird cries?"
A strikingly low voice for a woman—like a voice actress voicing a female samurai in subculture media. Her speech even evoked old jidaigeki dramas. Harumi, unused to such archaic tones in daily life, tilted her head in bewilderment.
"Ugh...? What's with her speech...? Sanghyeon, she's weird."
"Hey now, that's rude. Didn't we agree to speak politely from now on?"
"Ughh... fine..."
Saki's reaction was the polar opposite.
"M-My goodness! Such talent! O-Over here! Won't you join our theater club!?"
A single word from Shizune, one gesture setting down her brush—it exuded disciplined rhythm and refined aura. Her breathing and intonation felt straight out of a period drama.
Most would call it weird, cringy, freakish. But to a theater enthusiast, it was pure gold.
At that moment, Shizune—who'd kept her gaze lowered—lifted her head and spoke.
"Hearken, all... Remain silent and unmoved, feel and thus comprehend, unifying heart, nature, and emotion as one."
"Huh?"
"W-What?"
Harumi and Saki blinked in confusion—even the sharpest among us, Ren, widened her eyes and cocked her head. Phrases even modern Japanese, steeped in kanji, would struggle with.
Shizune's classical literature otaku streak ran that deep.
In-game, she only appeared in the final scenario stretch, November. Minimal contact. And by then, just Ren and Harumi had already wrecked my sanity... so my knowledge of Shizune was spotty.
Recalling old memories, something about her words tickled my brain folds. My post-isekai memory boost dredged up a high school flash.
Heart unifying nature and emotion.
Isn't that... the doctrine of simtongseongjeong? Toegye Yi Hwang's Neo-Confucian theory.
As we hesitated without reply, Shizune furrowed her brow.
"In stillness, contemplate existence. True thoughts sprout only in quietude. Who art thou to bring such clamor?"
Her tone shifted from semi-formal to blunt dismissal, laced with irritation unlike before.
Saki and Harumi flinched at the sharp words, but her gaze fixed solely on me. She'd pegged me as the group's anchor.
Made sense from her view.
She just wanted to enjoy calligraphy in peace—then bam, three girls and one guy barge in.
"I'm Yu Sanghyeon."
"Yu Sanghyeon...? O-Oh? From Joseon—no, Korea!? I am Fudehara Shizune! This humble self leads the calligraphy club."
Joseon?
What, is she some Korea-hater? Nah, couldn't be.
Scritch—
The brush tip grazed paper again, blooming bold characters.
Mysterious—Yūgen: subtle, profound beauty.
No petty malice tainted her script.
"How wondrous. This body hath walked the scholar's path alone... yet this encounter feels like a destined ichigo ichie bond."
Scholar?
"Yuu... what's 'seonbi'?"
"Huh...? Senbi?"
Saki and Harumi glanced at me.
No Japanese word for "seonbi."
Shizune had pronounced it in pure Korean.
No way... her classical lit obsession wasn't Heian or Sengoku era...
"By any chance, do you like Joseon mid-period classical literature?"
Her eyes sparkled at my words—pure delight. Expression stoic and posture rigid, in-game they'd convey it with glistening pupils in her illustration.
"Heh heh heh. How didst thou know? Ah, I heard thou art a second-year. Speak freely, then?"
That subtle know-it-all vibe.
"Sure... feel free. How'd I know? You mentioned 'seonbi.' And that slip calling me Joseon earlier."
"Ah...? G-Guh?!"
Realizing her near-faux pas, she shot up and bowed repeatedly.
"F-Forgive me! No ill intent whatsoever!!"
"It's fine."
Her exaggerated motion parted her hakama, flashing cleavage—total win for me. I knew she wasn't that type anyway.
"And... you mentioned simtongseongjeong earlier? Isn't that Yi Hwang's Neo-Confucianism? My memory's fuzzy, but."
"O-Oh! Oho! Truly a native son!"
Shocked I'd caught that, she lunged and seized my hand.
"Wh-What! Get off, you fox!"
Harumi bristled like a housecat spotting a stray rubbing on her owner. Saki and Ren played it cool but inched closer.
"A-Ahem! Such rashness. Men and women past seven shouldn't sit together... Forgive this vulgar act once more. Nay, among fellow scholars, no need for formality—my apologies!"
This was peak Confucian.
Historical drama speech in real life felt awkward, but I'd adapt.
"No worries. Anyway, Joseon mid-period lit—senior, you study the mystical stuff. Had no idea."
Slightly off from in-game, but maybe my blind spot or a divergence.
"Indeed!? Joseon classics and Neo-Confucianism are profoundly mysterious! Japan embraced it pre-Meiji Restoration too—unlike our wabi-sabi, it's restrained purity! Calligraphy families still study ancient texts...! Evolving medieval Chinese scripts...! Isn't it astounding!? And in 1498, Sengoku...!"
Otaku classic: spot someone into your niche, words flood like a dam burst. This'd drag forever—time for the pitch.
"Ahem! Anyway, we came to the calligraphy club because all four of us want to join."
!
"Wh-What!?"
Shizune jolted higher than before—her breasts jiggled delightfully.
"All four of thee... to the calligraphy club?"
"Uh... whatever Sanghyeon says."
"If Yu approves, so do I. Rules allow multiple clubs if you can handle it."
Ren met my eyes and smiled softly without a word.
"Yes. All of us will join the calligraphy club."
Shizune clasped her hands prayer-like, eyes closed, deep breaths. Calming excitement, not true prayer.
Then, composure restored, she opened her eyes.
"To this body, who hath guarded the club alone—profound thanks. Yet... I cannot simply permit it."
Ah... conditions incoming.
Most club leads on the brink would beg for members. Confucian face ran deep.
"Cannot simply permit—does that mean some initiation rite?"
"Aye. The test I faced three years past. All who seek entry must endure! Though our club teeters, no exceptions."
She said, eyes distant, murmuring softly.
"...Tradition must be upheld."
A fleeting sadness crossed her face, swiftly masked as she fetched four sets of brush, inkstone, paper, and inkstick.
"Sit ye. 'Tis the trial."
Shizune, thrilled at the rare bustle of people.
