My Online Soulmate is My Offline Arch-Nemesis?!

I was ambushed at my shoe locker.

"RENJI! MY PRODUCER, MY FRIEND, MY SAVIOR!"

Daiki Sato descended upon me with the subtlety of a meteor strike, waving a notebook filled with what looked like a child's frantic scribbles. "I was up all night! I have SO many ideas for the cafe! Idea one: an anti-gravity machine so the maids can float! Idea two: we genetically engineer real cat-girls! Idea three—"

"Daiki," I cut in, my voice flat. "The budget for Class 2-B is fifty thousand yen, not the gross domestic product of a small European nation."

"Oh. Right." He looked momentarily deflated before his boundless optimism resurfaced. "Okay, scaled-down plan! We still need a theme! Something cool! Something everyone knows!"

I sighed, the weight of my new, unwanted responsibility pressing down on me. I had to produce this cafe. The alternative was letting Daiki lead, which would result in a class-wide demerit and possibly a small electrical fire. My goal was simple: achieve a passable result with the absolute minimum expenditure of energy. Efficiency, as always, was key.

And the most efficient path is the one you know best.

An idea sparked, a perfect synthesis of pragmatism and laziness. "I've got it," I said. "We'll theme the cafe around a single, massive hit. A story everyone's talking about."

Daiki leaned in, his eyes wide with anticipation. "Which one?"

"The latest novel by Zero," I stated. "Stardust Sonata."

Daiki's jaw dropped. "Dude. DUDE. That's... perfect! It's the most popular romance web novel right now! The costumes are elegant, the story is amazing... you're a genius!"

Of course, I was. The benefits were threefold. One: the source material was popular, guaranteeing an audience. Two: I knew the plot, characters, and aesthetic intimately, meaning I wouldn't have to do any tedious research. Three: there was a small, perverse satisfaction in using my secret work as the foundation for my public slacking. It was a private joke of the highest caliber.

"It's settled then," I said, a rare, faint smile on my lips. "The official theme is Stardust Sonata. You handle the costume designs. Try not to include anything that requires plutonium."

"You got it, boss!" Daiki saluted and sprinted off, leaving me in a state of tranquil victory. Phase one of "Operation: Survive the Festival" was complete.

The official notice board in the main corridor was, in Akari Hoshino's opinion, a bastion of civilized information dissemination. It was here that she expected to see her meticulously planned "Poetry Cafe - An Afternoon with the Classics" registered, a beacon of sophistication among the other, lesser projects.

"You look pleased with yourself," Yuna commented, joining her in front of the board.

"I am merely satisfied that planning is proceeding on schedule," Akari replied primly, her eyes scanning the sheet for the official list of approved themes. She found her own entry under "Literature Club" and nodded, a small, tight smile on her face. Perfect.

Then, her eyes drifted down the list to "Class 2-B." Her smile froze, cracking like thin ice.

Class 2-B: Web Fiction Cafe

Theme: Stardust Sonata, by the anonymous author "Zero."

Producer: Renji Tanaka.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. A roaring sound filled her ears.

Stardust Sonata.

Her story. The story she and Kite were pouring their very souls into. The delicate tapestry of words she spent her nights weaving was going to be the theme for a tacky cafe run by him. Renji Tanaka. The lazy, sarcastic degenerate who represented everything she stood for.

A wave of emotions crashed over her. First, a bizarre, secret flicker of pride that their story was chosen. It was immediately consumed by a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated rage. This felt like a personal attack. A violation. How dare he take something so precious, something so profoundly a part of her, and use it for his cheap, low-effort spectacle? He was probably just latching onto its popularity without having read a single word. He was sullying it.

"Akari? Are you okay?" Yuna asked, her voice laced with concern. "Your hands are clenched."

"I am fine," she said, her voice dangerously calm. She turned, her eyes scanning the crowded hallway until she found him. He was leaning against a wall, looking bored, as Daiki Sato showed him some frantic sketches.

She marched towards him, her footsteps sharp and purposeful. She felt like a general whose flag had been captured by the enemy.

"Tanaka-kun."

Renji looked up, his perpetually sleepy eyes showing a flicker of surprise at her stormy expression. "Hoshino-san. Come to lecture me on the improper lean-angle for hallway lounging?"

"Your theme," she said, cutting straight to the point, her voice tight. "Stardust Sonata. Of all the stories in the world, you chose that one."

He shrugged, a maddeningly casual gesture. "It's popular. Draws a crowd. It's called marketing. A concept that might be alien to your 12th-century poetry circle."

The condescension in his tone was a lit match to her fuse. "It is not simply 'popular'!" she snapped, her voice rising, drawing the attention of nearby students. "It has a profound emotional core! The prose is delicate, the character arcs are masterfully woven... It's a story with a soul! Not just some marketing gimmick for you to exploit!"

Renji stared at her, a look of genuine bewilderment on his face. "Whoa, calm down. It's just a book. A good book, sure. Great plot hooks, solid pacing. But you're acting like I insulted your firstborn child."

"Because you clearly don't appreciate it!" she shot back, her face flushed. "You see it as a tool, a means to an end. You don't understand the artistry behind it!"

"And you're a gatekeeping snob who thinks art can't also be commercially successful," he retorted, his laziness replaced by a sharp, defensive edge. "The 'artistry' is what makes it popular. That's the whole point!"

They were nose-to-nose now, locked in a bizarrely passionate literary debate in the middle of a school hallway. Daiki and Yuna, who had rushed to their respective sides, could only watch in stunned silence. To them, it was an argument about a book. To Akari and Renji, it was an argument about their own deeply held, secret philosophies, a clash between Aria, the artist, and Kite, the architect.

That night, the NexusWrite chat window was a flurry of activity.

[Aria]: I am so furious I can barely type. My nemesis, the lazy one? He's using OUR STORY for his festival project! He spoke of it as if it were nothing more than a can of soda to be sold!

[Kite]: You're kidding. My rival, the Ice Queen? She confronted me about my theme today and went on a crazy rant about its 'profound emotional core.' Acted like I was committing a cardinal sin by choosing a popular book.

They vented for a solid ten minutes before turning their attention to the manuscript for Stardust Sonata. They had agreed to write the first major argument scene between their rival protagonists, Leo and Seraphina.

Fueled by the fresh sting of his confrontation with Akari, Renji's fingers flew across the keyboard. He wrote Leo's dialogue, imbuing it with a cynical pragmatism. "You're too idealistic, Seraphina! This isn't just about 'art,' it's about winning! We need a plan that works, not one that just feels pure!"

In her own room, fuming from the memory of Renji's dismissive shrug, Akari poured her indignation into Seraphina's reply. "Winning is meaningless if we sacrifice the soul of what we're doing, Leo! There are things more important than just popular appeal! Don't you understand that?"

They posted their sections. A moment of silence passed as they read each other's work.

[Kite]: Aria... this is incredible. That dialogue for Seraphina. It's perfect. It's like you were there, listening to the argument I had today. That's exactly the kind of frustratingly noble nonsense the president was spouting.

Akari's eyes widened.

[Aria]: I was thinking the same thing. The lines you wrote for Leo... it's uncanny. It's the exact same cynical, marketing-obsessed logic that lazy boy threw at me. You've captured his personality perfectly.

[Kite]: I guess our rivals are cut from the same cloth.

[Aria]: It seems so. Well, at least our real-life frustration is making for some amazing fiction.

[Kite]: Couldn't have said it better myself.

They continued to write, a strange harmony settling over them. They were closer than ever, united by their shared passion and their shared frustration, completely oblivious that they were drawing their perfect inspiration from the very same source: each other.