Chapter 5

"Besides, this whole thing is my fault for underestimating you. Nana, you don’t need to feel responsible."

I told her that, but she just stared blankly, as if she didn’t even understand what she had supposedly done wrong.

The truth is, Nana hadn’t done anything—she had simply played the role of a villain.

Playing a villain can lower public favorability. If an actor becomes known for a strange role early in their career, their image can get fixed in place and they risk being treated like a novelty act.

But Nana had already played numerous heroines in dramas and films, recognized as a child actress who could deliver performances that rivaled adults. It wasn’t great that she had taken on the villain role without consulting me, but I wanted to respect her own wish to "challenge herself with more diverse roles and expand her acting range."

As long as she was motivated, it was my job to support her. Since she admitted she hadn’t read the original manga, I bought her the full set of Boku to Kimi de moderato and also gave her a selection of Japanese and foreign films that might serve as reference material.

Villain roles are notoriously difficult, especially for child actors, but I wasn’t worried about Nana. Her image might take a slight hit, but if she succeeded, she’d be recognized as a versatile performer who could handle any role. Expanding her range would ultimately be a net positive for her future.

That was what I thought. I was optimistic.

Then filming began. The moment I saw Nana embody the villainous daughter Mirei, I froze in shock.

In private, she was always carefree with a bright, relaxed smile. When playing a Yamato Nadeshiko, her smile was refined and pure. As a tragic heroine, she could summon a fragile, fading smile. I already knew she could change the way she smiled depending on her role. But the Mirei Nana brought to life was unlike anything I’d ever seen.

She smiled with a corrupted, Rafflesia-like allure—seductive in a way no elementary schooler should be capable of. With sadistic eyes, she looked down on others, never dirtying her own hands as she ordered her cronies to torment victims again and again, then reveled in their tears. It was an evil so vile it made me feel sick.

Add to that the revised script the original author had provided for the drama, the skill of a promising young director, and the enthusiasm of a veteran composer who proclaimed, "If Nana-chan’s playing the role, I’ll write her one hell of a theme song!"—all of it came together to make Nana’s Mirei the most brilliant, and most horrifying villain imaginable.

Her cruelty felt so real that the child playing the protagonist burst into genuine tears. Just seeing Mirei made her turn pale and tremble in fear. Watching that, Nana casually remarked,

"Well, as expected of someone trusted with the lead role. She’s really good at acting. I can’t lose to her."

No, she wasn’t acting. Those were real tears. Exasperated, I corrected Nana, and she panicked, running over to apologize to the protagonist.

Even so, throughout filming she continued to bully and berate the protagonist until she cried, glaring down at her like a pig at a slaughterhouse, then switching to comforting kindness as soon as the cut was called. Repeating that over and over somehow led the protagonist to grow strangely attached to Nana.

I knew this trick. It’s the same manipulative technique shady hosts use.

Despite my growing unease at Nana’s frighteningly convincing villainy, the shoot went smoothly, and there was no stopping it. When the drama aired, the fact that it was based on a popular manga combined with the buzz over Nana’s role as Mirei earned the show high ratings from the very first episode. And the ratings kept climbing with each week. Normally, dramas peak in viewership at the start, but this was an anomaly.

Soon Nana’s performance as Mirei became a hot topic, and the backlash began. Usually, child actors playing villains are criticized with lines like "She doesn’t suit the role" or "Her acting is stiff." But Nana was different.

Her villainous daughter act was so convincing that people began speculating her real personality was just as rotten.

Irresponsible talk-show hosts fanned the flames: "That’s not the kind of performance an elementary schooler can pull off. She must’ve been nasty by nature~" or "Apparently the protagonist really cried on set, not as acting. Nana-chan must have been terrifying." Viewers believed it without question.

And because there was some truth mixed in—yes, the protagonist had genuinely cried—it gave the rumors weight, making wild speculation feel like fact. It spiraled quickly, extending to criticism of Nana’s family, and before long it wasn’t just slander but real harm.

At school, she was isolated and bullied. At home, her family was harassed. Burdened by the thought that her loved ones were suffering because of her, Nana even said she wanted to quit acting altogether.

Just by playing a villain, she had become hated across Japan.

That was how terrifying her talent as an actress was.

I had underestimated Nana. This entire mess was my fault. I told her to wait a little, and then I began making arrangements everywhere I could.

We needed to restore her image quickly. The simplest, fastest way would be to secure another role for her—a pure, innocent heroine—and have her play it. With her talent, she could easily overturn the damage.

But that would be too plain. If we were going to do this, then we should use the scandal as a stepping stone to make Nana’s position as an actress even more unshakable.

『The Rebirth of Hanasaki Nana』

That phrase flashed into my mind—and then, suddenly, the perfect idea came to me.

"Welcome, it’s ready for you."

"…But I only called you a moment ago. Isn’t this too fast?"

"If it’s just a simple plot draft, it doesn’t even take an hour. Here, read it."

When I visited a certain apartment, I was greeted by a woman who looked rather unhealthy. She was my younger sister, Ryōko—better known as Roy, the author of the hit shōjo manga Boku to Kimi de moderato.

And before I had even finished taking off my shoes, she shoved a manuscript into my hands. Well, “manuscript”—this was the digital age, after all. What she handed me was a tablet loaded with the draft.

Ryōko had always been hopeless with technology, so I was the one who set up her digital drawing environment and gave her advice. Otherwise, I’m certain she would still be drawing manga entirely by hand.

I moved to sit down on the living room sofa, but clothes were scattered all over it, so I tossed them into the washing machine. Normally, I’d start by tidying the place and sorting the laundry, but today time was precious. I decided to save it for later.

Settling on the sofa, I looked down at the tablet. For something she called a “plot draft,” the amount of text was impressive.

It was the story of a former office worker who reincarnates as Mirei in the world of Boku to Kimi de moderato. Knowing Mirei’s ruinous fate in the manga, she resolves to live modestly and honestly, staying far away from both the Emperor and the original heroine, Yui.

But one day, after quietly managing to avoid involvement for so long, she discovers that Yui has drawn too close to the Emperor and is now suffering bullying from jealous classmates. Unable to look the other way, Mirei tries to help her in secret—only to fumble her efforts and end up being accused as the ringleader. The Emperor publicly calls her out. However, Yui realizes Mirei had actually been helping her, defends her, and thanks her. That moment brings them closer, and they become friends.

From there, the Emperor apologizes for the misunderstanding, and suddenly their relationships deepen all at once…

And just as things get good—End of Part One! Apparently, it was structured as a trilogy.

"So? Sounds interesting, doesn’t it?"

"…It’s not bad."

I had only intended to explain the current situation and the outline of the film I had in mind, and then consult her for details. Instead, what I received was essentially a full script disguised as a “plot.”

Of course, as an actual screenplay it would need more fleshing out, but it was more than enough to attach to a project proposal.

"Alright then, I’ll use this. Send me the data. I’m heading to Gensōsha right now, so I can put it down as ‘approved by the original author,’ right?"

"Of course, no problem. I’d already given up on BokuKimi ever getting a film adaptation, so I’ve got high hopes for this one ♪"

I transferred the data to my own tablet and headed toward the entrance. Just as I was about to leave, Ryōko called out.

"Oh, right—I’m torn about whether I should have the Emperor and Mirei end up together in the end. What do you think, sis?"

"……I’m against it. That would make it an affair. Most fans won’t accept anything but the Emperor ending up with Yui. Besides, the whole point of this film is the gap between the manga’s Mirei and the reincarnated Mirei. Best not to saddle her with a dirty image."

"Hmm, you’re right. Maybe I’ll scrap that idea, then."

"Actually, it’d be better if the Emperor came to Mirei for love advice—after she’s already become friends with Yui."

"Ooh, I like that. Could really work. And Mirei getting dragged around by the Emperor’s selfishness would make for some fun drama too!"

"That kind of development sounds good to me. Then you can have Mirei doing her best to push Yui and the Emperor together—it would make for a strong story."

After giving Ryōko my advice, I returned to my car parked outside and drove toward Gensōsha, the publisher that had serialized Boku to Kimi de moderato.

First, I needed to get approval from the rights holder—that would make things much easier. The truth was, film adaptation offers had been coming in for some time, but given how fierce the backlash against Nana had become, I had declined them until now.

Inside the drama and film industry, however, Nana’s reputation was the exact opposite of the public’s perception. She was being praised more than ever as an exceptionally talented child actress.

The director of Boku to Kimi de moderato had showered her villain role with praise, and everyone recognized that the drama’s success—and even its rise into a social phenomenon—was thanks to Nana’s extraordinary performance. They understood perfectly well.

That was why I was confident this project would be approved. The only question was how quickly I could get it moving.

Once we secured approval from the publisher and spoke with the producer and director of Boku to Kimi de moderato, everything else fell into place. When I pushed for an early release, the schedule was set so that filming for the movie would begin immediately after the drama wrapped up, with the roadshow premiere coming just a month after the final episode aired. Things moved forward at an unprecedented pace.

Part of it was thanks to being able to reuse the drama’s sets, which cut down on preparation time. In that sense, this project was the only reason things could have advanced so quickly.

After the movie’s release, Nana’s image recovered almost instantly. The backlash subsided, and her popularity didn’t just bounce back—it skyrocketed beyond anything before.

『A Once-in-a-Century Child Prodigy』

That was how critics described her performance, and the box office numbers climbed to rank among the highest in the nation’s history.

Peace returned at last, but Nana herself grew cautious. In the past, she had gone out openly without hiding the fact that she was Hanasaki Nana, willingly engaging with fans who recognized her in public. After the scandal, however, she began to hide her face completely, even attending her new school in disguise.

She had been far too careless before, but now she’d gone to the other extreme. Still, if it means she’s being this cautious, I can finally breathe a little easier.

Nana isn’t destined to remain just a child actress—she has the potential to become one of this century’s defining stars.

When she plays a villain, everyone comes to hate her. When she plays a lover, everyone falls in love. When she cries, tears flow in the audience, and when she laughs, smiles spread across their faces. She captivates, stirs the souls of those who watch her, and carries the aura of a silver-screen legend destined to be remembered for generations.

I want to see where Nana’s path will take her.

That’s why, even when I’m offered the position of general manager to oversee all the child actors, I keep turning it down. I want to stay by Nana’s side and watch how high she can climb. Even if she chooses to transfer agencies or go independent once she’s an adult, I want to follow her.

"Eh? My future plans? Once I graduate from elementary school, I’m quitting acting. No way, I don’t want to become an actress. My dream is to be a NEET once compulsory education is over."

Saying that, Nana sat there in the office lobby, sipping on kids’ beer and snacking on dried squid.

And in front of her, I collapsed to the floor.