I Will Do Everything In My Power To Bring Happiness To The Enchanting Beauty Who Can No Longer Smile. - Chapter 25: I’m Not Alone Anymore.

I’m Not Alone Anymore.

“Let me shoulder the burden you carry, Tsubame.”

The distance between us is small. The lights are off, but my eyes have already adjusted to the darkness.

“First of all, thank you for sharing this with me, Tsubame.”

“No… I wanted to talk about it.”

“Even so, I’m really glad I got to hear it. And now, Tsubame, let me say this again.”

I don’t know exactly what led her to open up to me, but it’s clear that it wasn’t just on a whim.

“You’re not alone anymore, Tsubame.”

“…Yeah. Shigure-kun, you are here.”

“That’s right. I’m here. And from now on, you’ll make more friends too.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because, Tsubame, you’re not just beautiful on the outside. You’re a truly kind and wonderful person.”

I picture a certain girl in my mind.

“You’ll definitely make friends. There are people who value more than just appearances.”

If I stay by Tsubame’s side, along with Shirao, then eventually, she will meet her too. And when that happens, there’s no doubt they’ll get along. Their personalities may be different, but… I think it’ll be okay.

“There’s no need to rush. Take your time. When you start feeling like you want more friends, that’s when you can start reaching out. But no matter what, you’ll never be alone again.”

“Yeah… I’m not alone anymore, am I?”

“No, you’re not. And I want you to rely on me as much as you need to, just as I’ll rely on you.”

Tsubame nods firmly. Her expression looks much better than before.

“If you ever feel lonely at work, I can be there without getting in the way. And if you need, we can sneak in a quick hug when no one’s looking.”

“…That sounds nice. Getting a hug from you in the break room.”

“We can do that anytime. I won’t let you feel alone.”

Tsubame nods again, deeper this time. It seems like she finally understands that she isn’t alone anymore. But there are still many challenges ahead.

“You’re afraid of losing your job… because you might need money if something happens to your mother. And because of what that model said to you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“First, about your mother. Tsubame, I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“This might sound insensitive, but let’s consider a hypothetical situation. If your mother were to fall seriously ill, how long do you think your current savings would last? I know it depends on the illness and medical costs, but based on your estimates?”

Tsubame stays silent for a moment, thinking carefully, before she finally speaks.

“Even if she were hospitalized for five years with ongoing tests and medication, we should be fine. But depending on the circumstances, it might last even longer. I’m still learning about the healthcare system, so maybe it could stretch to ten or even fifteen years.”

“In that case, I can help too.”

Tsubame blinks in surprise, her expression unchanged.

“Once I start working, I can support you financially as well. And even before that, I can help with hospital visits and daily needs. That way, you can reduce your modeling workload to a more manageable level.”

“B-but… that’s…”

“Tsubame, what if the situation were reversed? If my parents were sick and I needed help—”

“I would help you.”

“It’s the same thing.”

I knew she would answer without hesitation, but she responded even faster than I expected.

“Even if your mother does fall ill, even if you don’t ask for help, we will be there for you. My parents, too—they’d worry if you kept it to yourself. Keeping quiet would only make them sad.”

Tsubame stares at me intently.

“It wouldn’t be a burden?”

“Not at all. In fact, I’d be happier if you relied on me during difficult times. If you didn’t, that would hurt more.”

I put it into words clearly, so she understands. Tsubame values words, after all.

“…Shigure-kun.”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this for me?”

She looks straight at me, asking a question she’s asked before. But this time, “because we’re childhood friends” isn’t enough.

“…Well.”

I ask myself the same question. And the answer is clear.

“I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy. I want you to be able to eat with a smile again. Seeing that would make me incredibly happy.”

I meet her gaze, hoping these feelings reach her completely.

“Seeing you change, little by little, makes me happy. Watching you light up while watching animal videos, enjoying a movie and discussing it with me afterward… Even falling asleep together like before made me happy.”

Every moment spent with her has been precious. Hearing that she can sleep better now warms my heart.

“…Though, sometimes I do worry. That maybe I’m being too overprotective.”

“You’re not. I’ve loved every moment of it.”

“Then I’m glad.”

That was my one concern, but her words reassure me.

“To put it simply, there’s some selfishness in this, too.”

“Like when I gave you a lap pillow?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Tsubame nods in understanding.

That was the honest truth. But the deeper feelings—I’ll save those for when she has more people to rely on. Right now, it wouldn’t be fair.

“So, I want you to lean on me when it comes to your mother. I’ll do my best to be someone you can depend on.”

“…Alright. When the time comes, I’ll rely on you.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, already thinking of how I should get to know her mother. If something ever happens, I want her to trust me enough to turn to us for support. My parents will help, too, so I’m not worried.

But there’s still one major issue left.

Tsubame believes that getting more work means taking opportunities away from others. And though she did nothing wrong, she unintentionally hurt someone else.

It’s true that her success means others lose opportunities. And her overwhelming presence in the industry has caused some to give up on their dreams. One of those people told her to “stay at the top.” To Tsubame, those words must feel like a curse.

After thinking it over, I finally speak.

“Tsubame, about what you said—how getting more work means taking it from others. I understand where you’re coming from, and I can’t say you’re entirely wrong.”

I prefaced my words with that. Simply spouting empty platitudes would be meaningless. Tsubame has seen the less glamorous side of the modeling industry—something I know nothing about. If someone like me, with overwhelmingly less knowledge and experience, tried to speak in ideals, my words would only come across as shallow.

“But, Tsubame has become famous enough to be called ‘the beauty who could topple nations.’ I think that’s an incredible achievement.”

At the same time, being an outsider to the industry might allow me to see things from a different perspective.

“Tsubame has become a social phenomenon. If you walk down the street, people are talking about her. Turn on the TV, and some channel is covering her. It’s the same online—on social media, at least once a day, something about Tsubame is trending. There are probably fewer people in Japan who don’t know her name than those who do.”

This isn’t an exaggeration. It’s a fact.

“I even heard rumors that some bookstores were saved from closing down thanks to you, Tsubame. They say where there’s smoke, there’s fire. The fashion magazine sections in stores have visibly expanded, and overall magazine sales are rising. This is something frequently reported in the news, too.”

“I’ve heard about that,” she murmured.

“In other words, the presence of Sakakibara Tsubame has had a massive impact on the modeling profession as a whole.”

In recent years, the word “model” seems to come up even more frequently than before. Social media has played a part in the rise of influencer-models, but that’s not the whole story.

“Like you said, Tsubame, maybe it’s true that you’re taking work away from others. But that’s not the only thing happening. Because of you, the entire modeling industry is getting more attention, and opportunities are growing.”

One person alone can only do so much. But right now, Tsubame has a powerful talent agency backing her. On top of that, there are definitely people leveraging her influence to expand the modeling industry as a whole. If even I can think of that, then there must be others doing the same.

“I’m not asking you to change your perspective. I just want you to know how incredible you truly are. Just like you once dreamed of becoming a model when you were little… I guarantee there are young children today who look up to you in the same way. You’re someone who inspires dreams.”

“…Someone who inspires dreams,” she echoed.

“Yeah. There are so many people—like me—who eagerly wait for the magazines you appear in. Don’t forget that you’re making people smile.”

Tsubame gazed at me silently before nodding firmly.

“I won’t forget. That there are so many people whose smiles depend on my efforts.”

Seeing her say that with a smile, I squeezed her hand. It was warm and soft.

“And one more thing, Tsubame.”

“What is it?”

“When I heard that you truly enjoy being a model, I was really happy.”

Tsubame leaned in slightly, pressing closer to me. Trying not to let it distract me too much, I closed the distance between us as well.

“I want you to keep enjoying your work. Because seeing you happy while doing what you love is what I like most.”

I can’t break the curse that binds her. But at the very least, I want to keep her from being weighed down by it.

“If you enjoy being a model, you’ll naturally stay at the top.”

“…Do you really think so?”

“I do. And I don’t mean just smiling on the outside. Lately, I can tell that you’re genuinely having fun. And in time, I think that feeling will even come across in your photos.”

That might shift the mysterious aura she’s been known for up until now—but it could also create a new, captivating contrast. In fact, over the past few weeks, she’s become more mesmerizing than ever.

“In any case, if you’re going to continue… if you’re going to keep chasing your dreams, I hope you can enjoy the journey. I want you to have the freedom to express yourself in a way that feels right for you.”

“…You’re right. Lately, I’ve had more creative freedom during photoshoots, and it’s been really fun.”

“Then keep going just like this. Make enjoyment your top priority. After all, it’s already leading you to success.”

Tsubame nodded over and over—then, this time, she spoke up.

“I think work would be even more fun if Shigure-kun were there too.”

“Then from now on, it’ll be even more enjoyable.”

Tsubame let out a quiet breath. …Her expression hadn’t changed, but… did she just smile?

Pretending not to notice, I gently let go of her hand—only to wrap my arms around her, pulling her close.

“You’re not alone anymore, Tsubame. Let me share the weight of what you’re carrying.”

“Okay. I’ll rely on you a lot, Shigure-kun.”

“Leave it to me. If there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it.”

Tsubame squeezed me tightly in return.

“Thank you. Talking about it… no, being able to talk to you has really lightened my heart.”

“I’m glad. If it helps, then talk to me anytime.”

“I will. I promise.”

Troubles have a way of feeling lighter once spoken aloud. Especially for someone like her… someone who tends to bear everything alone.

I held her tightly, neither of us saying a word as the minutes passed. When I reached up and gently ran my fingers through Tsubame’s hair, I felt the tension in her body loosen just a little.

“Let’s sleep like this, Tsubame,” I murmured.

“…Yeah, let’s do that,” she replied softly.

Maybe talking had helped her feel better. Or maybe she was just exhausted from saying so much. Or perhaps… she finally felt safe. Her voice had a sluggish, almost drowsy quality to it.

“Good night, Tsubame.”

“…Good night.”

Her heartbeat, which had been erratic before, now thumped in a slow, steady rhythm—calm, soothing.

After a while, her breathing evened out, signaling that she had fallen asleep. I loosened my hold just a little—but not enough to let go.

I just want her to smile again… even a day sooner. To enjoy her meals. To be happy.

I don’t know if gods really exist in this world.

But I’ve done everything I can. Now, all I can do is pray.

Feeling the warmth of her body against mine, I finally closed my eyes.

***

A sharp, shattering sound yanked me out of sleep.

“…Huh? Tsubame…?”

Her warmth was gone. The blanket was neatly draped over me, as if she had tucked me in before leaving.

Frowning, I reached for my phone. It was just before five in the morning.

“…What was that?”

I muttered to myself, still groggy. The sound that woke me—it had been something breaking.

It hadn’t come from this room. I flicked on the light and stepped into the hallway, just as Tsubame’s mother emerged from the opposite room.

“Good morning,” I said. “Did you hear that just now? Do you know what it was?”

“Good morning, Shigure-kun,” she replied, her brows knitting together. “…No, but it didn’t sound like something just falling over. Where’s Tsubame?”

“She wasn’t in the room. Maybe she’s already up.”

A strange sense of unease settled in my chest.

“Let’s go check,” her mother said. “She always has coffee first thing in the morning—she should be in the kitchen.”

“Alright.”

We both picked up our pace, moving quickly down the hall.

The kitchen lights were on.

My pulse pounded in my ears. Even though I had barely woken up, my heart was hammering in my chest.

Tsubame’s mother reached for the door and pushed it open.

“—Tsubame!?”

She was standing by the table, near the coffee maker, completely still.

At her feet, shattered ceramic pieces lay scattered across the floor. A cup had broken, its dark contents spilled out, soaking into the wood.

“Tsubame, don’t move,” her mother said quickly. “I’ll clean up the shards… You’re not hurt, are you? No cuts… no burns? Tsubame?”

She crouched down, carefully picking up the fragments. I glanced around, thinking we might need a towel or a bandage, but then I noticed—

Tsubame hadn’t moved.

Not even a little.

She stood there, frozen, staring at the broken cup.

She wasn’t even blinking.

Slowly… almost mechanically… her gaze lifted to meet ours.

“Hey… Mom, Shigure-kun.”

Her voice was quiet. Distant.

“What is it?” I asked.

Her fingers twitched slightly, then moved up to touch her lips.

“…It was bitter,” she murmured.

Her voice was empty, hollow.

“…The coffee was bitter.”