I'm Being Threatened by My Sister's Ex-girlfriend. (GL) - Chapter 2

“Good evening, everyone! It’s Next@, is the volume okay?”

The average number of attendees for the live stream of “Next@” hovers around a hundred, just shy of three thousand community members.

The content is typical, either casual chatting or game commentary, and I’m certainly not a popular streamer. Yet, once I hit the start button, enough people gather to fill a gymnasium. The lukewarm comments and a few donations warm my heart and my wallet.

At the very least, they keep my motivation to stream alive.

“Um, today, I’m starting a new horror game. Is Nekuneku scared of scary stuff? Hmm, I wonder? It’s a cliché, but they say humans are scarier than ghosts, right?”

I’m not famous, but I’m not entirely unknown either. I’m not making a living from this, but it’s not entirely without profit.

That’s the kind of streamer I am, the kind you’d hit with a stone and likely hit.

“Alright, that’s it for today. Oh no, my throat hurts. See you later!”

That was my modest hobby, until the day an anonymous message arrived in the Twitter account of “Next@.”

In the corner room of my worn-out 1K apartment, the sound of the air conditioner hummed. The harsh cold air sneaked in through the gaps in my loungewear, sending shivers down my spine.

Before I had time to feel fear, a second message arrived. Its contents were even more unsettling.

“I’ll be waiting at the second cafeteria of Kaihin University tomorrow at 1 PM.”

The summons left no room for argument, and it carried a sense of compulsion. Kaihin University is the private university I attend. The second cafeteria is located just outside the building of the literature department to which I belong.

Was it coincidence, or was it deliberate?

Of course, I wanted it to be coincidence. But I couldn’t be foolish enough to hope for that. Who could guarantee that my university, let alone my apartment address, hadn’t been exposed?

Fuwamaro.

A service for receiving anonymous messages that I started using to get support messages and ideas from my followers. Occasionally, I received opinions or harassment, but mostly it was just feedback on my streams or friendly comments. I never anticipated this kind of situation.

My real name exposed. My home address exposed. And it wasn’t just that. I’m a female streamer who shows her face. I’ve experienced harassment from online stalkers more than once or twice.

It would be a lie to say my streaming content was untouched by this. Isn’t that true for any streamer? For instance, the tequila-drunk stream I did six months ago when I was still nineteen.

What would happen if the sender of this message exposed everything online?

On social media, both goodwill and malice accelerate. What kind of crime would underage drinking, which professors at the university might overlook, be on a timeline? A chill ran down my spine, and the three thousand community members I had hoped to increase suddenly seemed terrifying.

The word “scandal” felt visceral. Imagining ten pizzas delivered that I hadn’t ordered made me feel nauseous.

In any case, there was only one course of action I could take.

I had no idea how much influence the sender of the message had. They might only have a throwaway account, or they could have thousands of followers.

I would meet them and talk. Somehow, I would get them to keep quiet. What else could I do? If it was at the cafeteria at 1 PM, there should be no immediate danger.

Neither my second foreign language class nor my overview of early modern Edo literature could hold my attention. I checked the time again and dropped my smartphone into my pants pocket.

Dragging my feet, I headed toward the second cafeteria. The summer sun was merciless. Even a short distance made my back sweat.

I never imagined that my streaming activities would lead to this kind of situation. I wasn’t aiming for the pinnacle of success. I wasn’t even thinking about making a living from donations.

I just wanted a small place to belong. I wanted someone who didn’t know me, Shinonome Tsuguno, to affirm my existence. I wasn’t expecting a grand slam home run at this point.

Yet here I was, walking under the summer sky.

The second cafeteria at Kaihin University was far more stylish than its name suggested. It was more like a cafeteria than a dining hall.

As I passed through the automatic doors, the sweat on my body seemed to evaporate. The dining area, decorated in warm colors, was moderately crowded and noisy. That was a comforting factor, but the thought that the sender of the message might be among them made it hard to feel at ease.

A slim, mushroom-shaped haircut, muscular spiky brown hair, and a chubby person with natural black curls.

Everyone passing by looked suspicious.

I was almost certain the person would be male.

According to the analytics of the video streaming service, seventy percent of “Next@”’s viewers are male. There’s no sexual content in my streams, and I usually wear a mask, but it’s still a face reveal by a young woman. I was surprised that thirty percent of my viewers were female.

The fact that they specified the university likely meant they were a guy around my age. They might even be from the same university.

The unknown malice was profoundly eerie. And frightening.

With a grim mood, I ordered a keema curry with raisins.

If it came to it, I’d close all my accounts and consult the police or a lawyer. I resolved that in my mind.

There was no specific seat assigned. Since they knew my face, it might not matter where I sat. After a moment of hesitation, I chose a large round table in the center. It was a spot that was easy to be seen from a distance and easy to escape from.

I chewed my curry while glancing around. As I moved my jaw, I felt some of the tension ease. A baseless optimism bubbled up, making me think that maybe everything would be okay.

Right. Bad things don’t just happen easily. This summons is just a prank. It has to be,

“Ah, you really do look like her, Tsuguno-san.”

I bit down on my spoon in shock at the high-pitched voice coming from behind me.

I heard the sound of a chair being pulled. Slowly, I pulled the spoon from my mouth and peeked to the side.

It was a girl.

A high school student wearing a summer uniform, no less.

Everything about her was completely unexpected.

Her profile, illuminated by the bright summer light streaming in through the window, was infuriatingly perfect. Her dark, glossy medium-length hair, neatly groomed eyebrows and eyelashes. Her arms, extending from the short sleeves of her pure white blouse, were astonishingly pale.

I recognized the blue and light green checkered ribbon tie. Mihama University Affiliated High School. The most prestigious school in the area. In her hand was a café au lait topped with whipped cream. It seemed like the perfect accessory for a high school girl. I felt foolish for coming here, smelling of spices.

“Y-you’re the one who—”

My voice was dry and hoarse.

When had she approached? There hadn’t been any presence, no footsteps. Even though she was wearing synthetic leather loafers. Had she made a habit of moving silently? Was she from an assassin family or something?

“I’ll say this first.”

Ignoring my confusion, she began to speak.

“I’m a junior to Ichika-senpai. From the Mihama University Affiliated High School brass band. Well, Ichika-senpai graduated last spring, though. Oh, it’s not a truancy. Today is the anniversary of the school’s founding.”

“Mihama Affiliated… Ichika’s junior?”

Shinonome Ichika.

That’s my sister’s name. Not just any sister.

She’s my identical twin. Though we’re completely different in personality, we still look exactly alike.

Brilliant, popular, and beloved by everyone—my other half.

Ichika indeed graduated from Mihama University Affiliated High School.

“Are you a friend of Ichika’s?”

“No, not a friend.”

I felt an unnatural emphasis on the word “friend.”

Her nails shone like pearls. Those fingers, adorned with them, grabbed a handful of her heavy medium-length hair.

I was taken aback.

Hidden beneath her jet-black hair was a startlingly vivid ultramarine. Indigo blue inner color.

A color that Ichika loved.

And because of that, a color that Tsuguno Shinonome despised.

She confessed in a tone as casual as if she were saying, “By the way, the sky is blue today.”

“I’m not a friend; I’m an ex-girlfriend.”

The spoon slipped from my hand, clattering across the white porcelain plate. She watched my shock with amusement before finally saying,

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hakuto Kobei. My name comes from the seven herbs of spring. Do you know them?”

I couldn’t care less about that.

Before arriving here, I had run through several simulations in my mind. However, in my fantasies, the imagined adversary was always male. The moment a girl, especially a younger girl, appeared, I was already at a disadvantage. And she was Ichika’s ex? Seriously? Ichika, you were on that side?

Seriously.

No, this wasn’t good. I was completely thrown off balance. I needed to quickly regain my composure.

Okay. This high school girl is Ichika’s ex. Okay. It’s shocking, but that’s not the main issue. The main issue is that this Hakuto girl knows my personal information. She knows that “Next@” is Tsuguno Shinonome.

I thrust the spoon, now dirty with curry, toward her and said,

“What’s your aim?”

“Aim?”

Hakuto tilted her head dramatically. From between her flowing hair, the vivid ultramarine peeked through. It was the color of a hummingbird’s head, living in the Caribbean. The poisonous blue hidden beneath her neat black hair might be her true essence.

“You called me out for a reason, right?”

I had originally anticipated money or some sexual demands. Even if it wasn’t that direct, something like going out somewhere.

I looked over Hakuto’s appearance again.

She didn’t look like someone who was struggling financially. She might just be good at presenting herself, but there was no sign of desperation that would lead her to engage in borderline coercive behavior. What about the other possibility? No, she’s a girl, so that’s not it. She was Ichika’s ex. Which means…

That’s what it means.

“Hmm. What did you think I would say?”

“…Huh?”

Don’t answer a question with a question.

“I think you imagined various scenarios before coming here. Whether the person would be male or female. What they would demand. Money? Your body? All that kind of stuff.”

She leaned in closer, as if to confirm. Was it perfume? A sweet scent reminiscent of vanilla beans wafted toward me. I wanted to step back, but I had no escape route now.

“How much did you investigate?”

“If you don’t have dinner plans, should I order a pizza? Cash on delivery.”

That was the worst. I couldn’t believe it wasn’t a bluff. Is personal information really that easily leaked?

“I don’t need it. I don’t eat at night. Also, if it’s money—”

“I don’t need that. I’m not in trouble.”

She didn’t look like she was struggling to make ends meet or clinging to the nightlife. Was that just how high schoolers are? Or was she one of those rare types with a wealthy family?

“Then, um, I—”

“Well, to be blunt, it’s the latter.”

“Huh?!”

“Honestly, I still like Ichika-senpai. I mean, I probably will for life. I know it sounds strange to say, but I’m a heavy girl. But since I was rejected, I can’t just keep pursuing her. I’m a high school student, and she’s a university student. I don’t want to be disliked.”

As I listened to her rapid-fire words, I was certain of one thing.

I’d bet anything that a girl who calls herself a “heavy girl” isn’t a good person.

“That’s when I happened to find your stream. I remembered that Ichika-senpai mentioned her twin sister was at Kaihin University. So, at least you look the same, and I thought, well, maybe I could go for it here.”

A sense of foreboding crept up from between my shoulder blades. I swallowed hard and said,

“What do you mean by ‘go for it’…?”

“You know what I mean.”

Hakuto smirked, and I thought she looked like a devil. Her expression oozed with wickedness. It was the kind of smile that showed she wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice someone for her own benefit.

“I mean, I could use you as a substitute.”

Then she placed her palm over the back of my hand. Her hand was chillingly cold, like ice. Yet, there was something fragile and delicate about her fingers, as if they were clinging to me.

Her thumb traced the back of my hand.

I felt a shiver.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I-I can’t possibly understand…”

The contents of my head were not that similar. That’s what I was told out loud. She giggled, mocking me. Before my anger could boil over, Hakuto leaned in close to my ear.

“Basically, it means this: ‘Please become my girlfriend instead of Ichika-senpai.'”

That was the worst confession I could imagine, even without considering that the speaker was my sister’s ex and a younger girl.

“…Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious.”

“That’s impossible, of course—”

“Come on, Tsuguno-san. Do you think you have the right to refuse?”

“N-no.”

“Ten pizzas might not be the worst of it.”

On the screen of the smartphone she held up was a notes app. There, without a doubt, was my address.

If I resisted, she would expose everything.

Her sparkling eyes conveyed that message.

The blackmailer leaned back in her chair like a princess, bringing a straw to her cherry blossom pink lips. She slurped the café au lait piled high with whipped cream.

At this point, I didn’t even want to know what social media she was using. If a girl like her got Serious, the fire would definitely ignite. I understood that much.

There’s a violent nature to beauty.

I cursed my sister in my mind.

At the very least, Ichika, date someone a little better.