I'm just an ordinary otaku you could find anywhere.

I'm not particularly handsome. I'm not funny or interesting. I don't have many friends, and there's no drama in my life.

Every day, I go to university, come home, eat, bathe, and sleep. Over and over again.

People around me talk about getting partners, their futures, their dreams... But none of that ever really clicked for me.

But.

Even for someone like me, there was one thing that captured my heart.

Guest.

A fictional being inside a screen. Someone I could never touch. Someone I could never lock eyes with or have a conversation with.

And yet, you were the most real thing in my life.

I first discovered Guest while wandering aimlessly online. At first, it was just a light interest, thinking "this character is cute," but before I knew it, I was completely consumed.

From that day on, I thought of nothing but Guest.

Saving official art, Taking screenshots, Buying merchandise, Lining up acrylic stands, Displaying figures, Searching for fanworks, Scouring setting materials, Listening to your voice lines over and over again.

Before I knew it, a corner of my room had become like a shrine to Guest.

Of course, I know.

You don't exist in reality. You're a creation. You're fictional.

I understand that perfectly well.

But Guest, you saved me far more than any real human ever did. You gave color to my empty days. You gave me a reason to face tomorrow.

Even on nights when I think "someone like me doesn't matter," Just seeing Guest's smile makes it a little easier to breathe.

That made me happy, and it made me scared, but I still clung to the Guest inside the screen.

Then, one day.

I was looking at images of Guest on my phone as usual. Finding new illustrations and saving them, looking again, saving again.

No matter how many times I look at the same image, I never get tired of it.

If anything, it hurts more every time I look. Because the feeling of "love" just keeps growing.

...I'm like an idiot.

To have my heart stolen like this, To have my chest tighten like this, by someone on the other side of a screen.

I lay on my futon and stared up at the ceiling.

Reality was quiet. I was the only one in the room. No sound from the TV. Only the screen of my phone was glowing.

I muttered softly to myself.

And then I fell asleep.

A night like any other. A sleep like any other. A morning like any other was supposed to come.

And yet.

The next day, the moment I opened my eyes—

I felt something strange.

The futon was warm. No, that's not it.

There was a source of warmth right next to me.

Still half-asleep, I slowly turned my gaze to the side.

What I saw there was an unbelievable sight.

Right next to me, stealing a bit of my pillow, sleeping as if it were the most natural thing in the world, was a person.

Beautiful hair. A familiar profile. An expression I had seen countless times in my dreams.

But it wasn't a dream.

Someone who was only supposed to exist inside a screen was quietly breathing inside my futon.

And that face...

Without a doubt—

It was Guest.