Sluggish Symbol, Inane Illusion Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Introduction

When I was with Saki, staying unnoticed was nearly impossible.

When Saki was with me–a normal guy who lacked any special talents–she stood out even more. I was so embarrassed that I wanted to walk a few steps apart from her on the way to our destination; or even better, I could just meet her there.
This all went through my head as she led me to a small restaurant.

The building’s red brick walls crawled with vines, and stained glass lined the inset windows.

Saki pushed opened the door without a moment’s hesitation, causing the sign to sway back and forth.

“Are you sure it’s safe to barge in like this?”

This didn’t quite answer my question.

But if there was some special reason they didn’t lock their door, I’d really feel bad for the restaurant.

“If it was locked, I’d just break down the door.”

“It’s OK. That’s what this place is for.”

But Saki just ignored my logical argument. It seemed like whenever I was with her, I was made to say unnecessary things. How terribly unpleasant.

Since the restaurant was not in operation now, it was pretty dark inside.

For a moment I thought a waitress might come to greet us. But no, that wasn’t going to happen.

With a practiced hand she switched on the desk lamp there.

Sitting on a table with a desk lamp between us brought to mind an interrogation room. Perhaps this was a special table for eating pork cutlet rice bowls, since the detectives often gave those to suspects during questioning in old TV police dramas.

“The table is used for book reading,”

She sat down in the seat farthest from the wall as if she’d been there many times before. Then she motioned to me to take the opposing seat.

“So, I guess I’ll start reading the manuscript you showed me before.”

“There is no waitress here, and this may in fact be considered unlawful entry.”

She pointed out a drip coffee machine of the kind you typically see at family restaurant drink bars.

Gazing at the steaming cup of coffee, she spoke.

“If this is actually illegal entry, I wish you would have told me before I made coffee.”

“Currently assigned?”

This sounded a little strange to me, but the dim inside of this restaurant was somehow a perfect fit for her, and this was enough to make me think she might be telling the truth.

On a built-in bookshelf was a jumble of books with various titles and bindings.

“This is ‘Memories traced by a corpse’…”

I almost said, “That’s the same time I read it,” but held my tongue.

The thought of this was enough to turn my face red with humiliation. I was thankful the interior of the restaurant was so dark.

“That they all have been written here?”

“There’s something else?”

She removed the report paper from her bag and handed it to me.

“You can start with this.”

I wasn’t used to reading horizontal script, but her writing possessed a special power that made me quickly forget that.

“Yes?”

She even went as far as describing the kinds of grass and other plants growing on the field. But is that really necessary? She’s so good at writing such extraneous description, but that makes it all the more tiresome to read.

“It’s not a question of percentage…I hope that writing a 3,500 page book doesn’t mean you are making the descriptions ten times more detailed than normal.”

“If the main character was a plant biologist I would understand, but…”

“Then you don’t need that level of detail!”

What is this girl thinking? She’s never going to get to the main story line.

However, she responded to my criticism once again with a disapproving grimace.

“…Because it’s not relevant to the story.”

“That’s where you are wrong.”

I made this declaration despite the fact that I couldn’t make up my own mind.

But at the same time, it’s also from the point of view of someone who will be an author someday. When it comes to books, everyone is on equal grounds here.

“The more information you give, the harder it is for the reader to decide what information is important. If you aren’t careful, it will be hard for the reader to follow the story and get absorbed in your book.”

“You have a point, but it’s a matter of degree.”

I guess you could say it’s up to the author to strike the proper balance here, but Saki was a bit on the extreme side.

By forcing everyone to write a book, the overall quality of published works cannot be maintained.

But Saki responded to my well-thought criticism with a grin.

“Even though this is my one and only book?”

…If she is going to take that stance, we’re not going to get anywhere.

To put it bluntly––––what people think of a book after it is published is, for the most part, irrelevant.

Each day we are inundated with so many books, stopping to pick up one and read it is practically a meaningless endeavor.

“You’re asking me to compromise my principles?”

There’s no need to show it to me. After she writes whatever she likes, she can just show it to her fans.

But you can count me out.

Saki continued to stare at me as the silence stretched on.

Saki began speaking slowly, with a soft voice.

“I guess maybe it would be more interesting if I cut it down some.”

“OK.”

Saki agreeing so easily made me feel as if she’d somehow side-stepped the issue.

“Sure.”

“Why me?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Does this mean that if Saki’s book is not well received, the blame fall on me, the proofreader?!

I felt a chill, and brought my coffee cup to my lips.
When I lowered my gaze, I could just picture the swaying grasses of her world in bright, vivid colors.

=== End Chapter 3 ===

Chapter end