When it came to the subject of dreams, it seemed almost unattainable for him.

After arriving at the Drama Club, Kudo immediately dragged Tsukimi Jinguuji away, saying he wanted him to take a look at the new script.

Tsukimi Jinguuji was forced to flip through the script—it was still a chaotic mess.

“In any case, let’s remove all these original characters first,” the boy sighed.

“Aww~~”

While one corner was embroiled in a battle among purists, elsewhere, Hoshino Morin Hoshino began coaching the underclassmen in their acting.

Tsukimi Jinguuji glanced occasionally at Hoshino Morin Hoshino, noticing her considerable talent for performance. He couldn’t help but steal a few more looks, almost drawn in by her earnest expression, until she noticed and mischievously winked at him.

Feigning indifference, Tsukimi Jinguuji withdrew his gaze, multitasking as he scribbled corrections on the script and mentally replayed Laurence Olivier’s Hamlet.

He spent half an hour in the Drama Club, and before he knew it, the script had completely transformed into something Tsukimi Jinguuji had written.

Although it was an adaptation, it had to remain faithful to the original while also fitting the dramatic form—a challenge for Tsukimi Jinguuji, a novice in this field.

Unexpectedly, he found himself gradually enjoying the process.

Until now, Tsukimi Jinguuji had read countless novels and always felt writing was an occupation for the chosen few.

For instance, the key point of writing light novels was first to find an illustrator of extraordinary skill.

Then, bow to the illustrator, write with eyes closed, and leave the rest to fate.

After leaving the Drama Club, on the way back to the Student Council, Hoshino Morin Hoshino seemed even happier than when they arrived.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Heh… Didn’t I say you’re not straightforward?” Hoshino Morin Hoshino said proudly.

Tsukimi Jinguuji couldn’t fathom the source of her pride.

“Tsukimi Jinguuji, you look quite happy.”

“Me?”

“Yes, even though you said you didn’t want to deal with Kudo, you still ended up helping the Drama Club rewrite the script.”

“Because the president asked…”

“Oh~~ Does that mean if it’s my request, you’ll always agree? You’re making me think you’re interested in me, and as your senior, I’m quite shy.”

“……”

Seeing Tsukimi Jinguuji lost for words, Hoshino Morin Hoshino laughed exuberantly, “Why do you look so speechless? Can’t you tell I’m joking?”

“To be honest, the president’s words often leave me unsure whether they’re true or not,” Tsukimi Jinguuji sighed softly.

“If that’s the case, you should learn from me—I can always tell when you’re lying.”

“That’s because I’m a pure and innocent pretty boy.”

“Pfft~~ That’s absolutely a lie. Even if it isn’t, I can still tell.”

Tsukimi Jinguuji was already accustomed to Hoshino Morin Hoshino’s antics. He simply felt that she was especially focused and attentive when guiding the first-year students.

He thought, if it weren’t for her duties as Student Council president, she would probably still be active in the Drama Club.

“President Hoshino, is there something you want to do?”

Suddenly, Tsukimi Jinguuji asked this.

“There is—so many things! First, I want to shine at the sports festival, then maintain my top grades in the midterms, and then the cultural festival…”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I mean something more distant, something you have to put all your effort into, that might not even come true,” the boy struggled to describe.

“Ah… You mean a dream?” Hoshino Morin Hoshino realized.

“Yes.”

“Hahaha, Tsukimi Jinguuji, are you the type who’s embarrassed to talk about dreams? That’s just like any ordinary high school boy. I don’t mind.”

Tsukimi Jinguuji fell silent for a moment before replying softly, “…Because I don’t have such a thing.”

“What about you, president?”

“I do have a dream.”

“So president is the same, after all,” he murmured.

“Same?”

Tsukimi Jinguuji shook his head, “May I ask what your dream is?”

“Well… I suppose there’s no harm in telling you, Tsukimi Jinguuji. It’s not anything amazing, but you mustn’t tell anyone.”

“I promise to keep it secret.”

“Hm…” Hoshino Morin Hoshino showed a hint of embarrassment, but soon regained her composure.

“Since childhood, I’ve wanted to become a voice actress.”

“…Huh?”

Because the boy’s reaction was so rude, Hoshino Morin Hoshino, for once, looked displeased.

“Did I not make myself clear? A voice actress is someone who provides voices for movies or animation.”

“You don’t have to start from there, but you really surprised me. I thought you’d say you wanted to be an actor, since you’re in the Drama Club.”

“Really? I’ve never told you before?”

The boy replied reflexively, “Not at all…”

Tsukimi Jinguuji suddenly froze.

Hoshino Morin Hoshino watched him for a moment, seeing him abruptly clamp his mouth shut, then burst out laughing—her laughter as joyful as could be.

“Oh dear, you’re still hung up on the past? Didn’t I tell you to move on? Who’d have thought you’d be so sentimental—it’s really quite amusing.”

Tsukimi Jinguuji wasn’t sure what expression to wear. He stood stiffly for a while, then tried to change the subject.

“Um, why a voice actress?”

“Well… It’s probably because when I was little, my parents arranged all sorts of lessons for me, and the only time I could relax was Sunday evening, when I could watch half an hour of animation.

“When I grew older, I learned that the voices of those adorable cartoon characters were actually performed by real people, and that piqued my interest. Joining the Drama Club was partly because of that, since our school doesn’t have a voice acting club.”

“I see.”

Tsukimi Jinguuji nodded. He had no reason to mock her dream; instead, he was slightly awed by her openness.

“That’s wonderful,” he said sincerely.

“Wonderful?”

Tsukimi Jinguuji knew his own heart was unlike others—he had nothing he wanted to do, nothing he wanted to obtain, and spent every day shuttling between school and home, like a robot on an assembly line.

That was why he seemed so aimless, wasting his days.

For the first time, the boy voiced his envy, “I wish I had a dream, too.”

“Why not go and find one?” the girl said with a smile.

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Dreams are like mushrooms in the forest—if you look carefully, you’ll always find one.

“Tsukimi Jinguuji, there’s nothing wrong with standing still, but at least, you should look beneath your feet.

“Who knows, your dream might be right there.”