Afterword

I apologize for diving right in, but first, let me issue an important warning and apology.

This “Afterword” is seventeen pages long.

Did that make you doubt your eyes? Don’t worry, the author’s doubting theirs too.

If any of you were looking at the remaining pages of this book, expecting “there’s still more story to come,” I’m truly sorry. From here on out, it’s all “Afterword.” No rom-com, just the author’s whining. Quite a mess, isn’t it?

But rest assured. For an author who’s terrible at writing essays, it’s an even bigger mess. Help me.

Now, let’s set aside the page count talk for a moment. Allow me to introduce myself properly.

Nice to meet you, or perhaps it’s been a while. I’m Aoi Sekina, the author.

I originally debuted as a light novel writer after winning an Honorable Mention at the Fantasia Novel Award, and it seems I’ve been in the industry for nineteen years now. …Yup, writing it out like that makes me sound like quite the seasoned veteran, doesn’t it? In reality, every time I send a manuscript to my editor, I’m still trembling with thoughts like, “Oh no, what if they tear it to shreds… I’m scared… I’m already on the verge of tears…” I’m a writer with a mentality that’s shockingly lacking in “nineteen years of experience” vibes.

Here’s a question: in TV dramas, you often see authors who make their editors come to their house to pick up manuscripts while laughing heartily. When does that evolution event happen for me? I feel like I’ve been stuck as an Eevee, battling for nineteen years… No, surely something big will happen in my twentieth year. Yeah, that’s got to be it.

So, if my attitude suddenly turns cocky in the afterword of a future publication, please kindly think, “Aoi Sekina’s finally evolved,” and watch over me warmly.

Back to the self-introduction.

I mentioned my “nineteen years as a light novel writer,” but the truth is, I haven’t been exclusively working on light novels for all nineteen years. In recent years, I’ve also done a bit of work in other media, like games and manga.

As a result, in terms of light novel publications, this book is, shockingly, my first new release in five years. What a disaster. It’s a miracle I’ve been able to boldly claim the title of “light novel writer” all this time, isn’t it? Talk about thick-skinned.

That said, for about fifteen years after my debut, I made a living solely from light novels, so even when working on other projects, my mindset is still deeply rooted in “light novel thinking.” It’s like my “native language,” in a way. So, if possible, I’d love to continue calling myself a “light novel writer” going forward.

By the way, I’m currently working on manga scripts alongside this book, so if you’re interested, I’d love to plug those… but, uh, they’re all for other companies. Let’s not go there. …Just, you know, maybe search for them!

In any case, this is my first new light novel in five years. Even for those who’ve read my past works, many of you might have forgotten what kind of writer “Aoi Sekina” is.

So, let me sum it up in one sentence. The writer Aoi Sekina is—

—a writer with long afterwords.

Did that jog your memory? Yes, yes, that’s it. That’s the one. I may or may not write interesting stories, but I’m the writer with inexplicably long afterwords. Not that I chose to cultivate this style (or personality trait) on purpose…

So, mainly for those meeting me for the first time, let me explain a bit about “Aoi Sekina and Afterwords.” Some long-time readers might think, “I’ve seen this explanation before,” but since it’s been five years, please indulge me as if you’re catching up on a “story so far” recap.

To begin with, do you know why “Afterwords” exist in light novels—or rather, in Fantasia Bunko publications?

An author’s greeting? Reader service? A bridge between the story and reality?

There are many interpretations, and they’re all correct, but the most pressing, realistic reason is page adjustment.

This might be hard to grasp for those reading digitally, but for physical books, they’re typically printed in increments of sixteen pages.

So, for example, if the main story and illustrations perfectly fill 320 pages (a number divisible by sixteen), there’s no room for an “Afterword.” But if the main story is only 310 pages, you’re left with ten extra pages. Left as is, those would be blank.

Authors are given two options here.

One is to adjust the length of the main story to 304 or 320 pages. As mentioned, book page counts increase or decrease in sixteen-page increments.

The other option is… simply to fill the remaining ten pages with extras. Like ads or, you know, an “Afterword.”

In such cases, if the afterword’s length feels unreasonable, it’s normal to tweak the main story by adding or cutting content or inserting ads for fine-tuning. …Normally, that is.

But me, Aoi Sekina. I hate to admit it, but I’m terrible at “adjusting,” and on top of that, I’m the type of writer who says, “I don’t really want to add ads either,” which makes me a bit of a problem.

As a result, I end up tackling the afterword with a no-holds-barred, “no additives” approach.

All the “blank space” left after finishing the main story? I fill it entirely with the “Afterword.”

And what happened, you ask?

…Yup, you guessed it.

It turned into quite a mess.

When the afterword is about four or five pages, it’s just right. I can talk about the work, share some behind-the-scenes tidbits, tease the next volume, give thanks to the staff, and sprinkle in a bit of personal life. That fills it up nicely. It’s reasonable. Even I, who’s bad at essays, can smile at that.

But the trouble starts around eight pages. What am I supposed to add to pad it out beyond the topics I just listed?

My writing style doesn’t lend itself to long-winded “grand background lore” or anything like that. I can’t overdo the teasers for the next volume either. The acknowledgments are always about the same length. So, the only option left is to beef up the personal life updates…

Unfortunately, I’m a perfectly ordinary shut-in.

I don’t have any exciting personal anecdotes to share. I mean, if my personal life were that fulfilling, I wouldn’t have become a light novel writer in the first place (bold claim).

So, what’s left to write about in that situation? Just one thing. Yup, you’re seeing it right now.

A long rant about long afterwords.

Back then, it was genuinely a “desperate measure” for me. It was just me venting my resentment and frustration toward the “Afterword.”

But for some reason, those afterwords were oddly entertaining to some readers.

I get it, I really do. I’m a huge fan of Wednesday Downtown, and my favorite parts are when the cast suffers and complains. Other people’s amusing struggles are sweet as honey. I get it. I really do. But I’d rather not have that happen to me.

Yet, somehow, thanks to the readers’ enthusiasm, the page counts for my afterwords kept ballooning for a while.

Double digits were common. Eventually, I hit a ridiculous number like “eighteen pages for an afterword,” as if I were aiming for some kind of record. I don’t even know what that was about.

For a writer whose topics run dry after about four pages, what’s the deal with giving me eighteen? It felt like the Fantasia Bunko editorial team was deliberately trying to “keep Aoi Sekina’s ego in check and raise her as an Eevee” or something. I was genuinely tormented back then.

For reference, as of right now, this afterword has only filled seven pages. You all probably feel like you’ve already read a ton of whining, right? I feel like I’ve written a ton too. Heck, I’ve already spent hours on this.

And yet, I haven’t even reached half of this time’s quota of seventeen pages? This is honestly insane. What are you all being forced to read? What am I even writing? At this point, wouldn’t it be better to just throw in some ads? For both me and the readers. So why am I so hung up on doing this? I don’t know, I just don’t know…

Okay, I’ve completely derailed and lost my mental balance, so let’s get back to the main topic—the explanation of the “Afterword.”

Some of you sharp readers who’ve followed the explanation of the “Afterword” system and its purpose might be thinking, “Wait, something’s not right here, is it?”

Yeah, it’s not right. This afterword is seventeen pages. And I just mentioned that my longest afterword in the past was, like, eighteen pages.

What’s wrong with that information? Well, it doesn’t hold up as “filling blank space” anymore. Because we’re talking about an “Afterword” meant to “fill the blank space in a book printed in sixteen-page increments.”

So, what’s the deal with it exceeding sixteen pages…?

Are you confused? Don’t worry, I’m way, way more confused.

Let me explain step by step.

Earlier, for simplicity, I said something like, “If the main story fills the book perfectly, there’s no need for an afterword.” But in reality, the “Afterword” has become something of a cultural tradition, so it’s customary to include at least a few pages (though there are plenty of exceptions, of course).

In the case of this book, The Relationship of Play, the surplus page count calculated was… one page.

That made me smile. After being away from light novels for five years, it seems the readers’ resentment powers have reset. Yup, taking a break every now and then is the way to go. Now, let’s hear the rest of the report from my editor—

Editor: “So, this time, the afterword page count is a whopping seventeen pages!”

Aoi: “Why?!”

—Okay, what’s going on here? Back to the explanation.

I mentioned earlier that four to five pages is just right for an afterword. That’s the sweet spot for covering commentary, acknowledgments, and so on. But that also means anything less—like one or two pages—is, in its own way, difficult.

Especially with just one page, it’s practically impossible. If you can only say, “Thanks for reading,” that’s about it. “Splendid,” as they say.

In such cases, what do most authors do? Simple. They tweak the main story’s line breaks a bit to squeeze out a few extra pages for the afterword. A very smart solution.

And what about me?

Yup, you got it. I’m the kind of writer who starts making weirdly stubborn claims early on, like, “I don’t want to mess with the main story’s content.” What a reckless idiot.

So, how do I avoid a one- or two-page afterword without touching the main story? There’s only one way.

Yup. Add a full sixteen pages to the afterword. That’s how we end up with the deranged concept of a seventeen- or eighteen-page afterword.

…Seriously, what even is this explanation? Why am I so calmly spinning this absurd tale? Is this logic actually sound?

Well, if you call it “reaping what I sow,” that’s fair enough. Really. But there’s one thing I absolutely need to make clear: I have never intentionally padded the afterword page count for the sake of a “funny bit.” I mean, I don’t have the guts to choose hours of suffering just for “tasty material.”

So, every time, I genuinely pray for it to be “about four or five pages!”

And yet, here we are with a new work… and this happens. I think I finally remembered the “true reason” I stepped away from light novels. Welcome back, you piece of crap.

Ugh, my language is getting rough, so let’s change the topic already.

Now, about this work, The Relationship of Play (which, honestly, I probably should’ve talked about first).

After my previous work, Gamers!, wrapped up, I was actually working on a completely different long-form project (a time-altering rom-com mystery) in between other jobs. But, man, it just wouldn’t get finished. Since it’s a mystery, it’s not really “complete” until the ending is written, and it’s hard to submit drafts to my editor midway through.

At this rate, I had no idea when it’d be done. So, I decided to start a lighter, episodic short-story project, sending each completed story to my editor, and once enough piled up, I’d turn it into a book. That’s how The Relationship of Play came to be.

Initially, I envisioned a super simple story—just a group of people playing board games, my hobby. Something akin to My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU, with barely any substance.

But then I thought, “If they’re playing board games, maybe everyone should have their own hidden motives.”

“It’d be nice if it’s a chain of affection, right? Playing board games is best with friends.”

“Since it’s a board game theme, maybe some hidden-identity elements would be cool.”

And before I knew it, it turned into the story we have now. It feels like we’ve strayed pretty far from the original “just playing board games” premise…! Why…!

If I may make an excuse: just like video games in my previous work, Gamers!, this book is, at its core, a “novel,” not a game review article. So, the focus is deliberately on the characters’ “story.” I’m truly sorry to those who were expecting dense board game descriptions.

That said, explaining board game rules and strategies in a novel can get pretty intense in terms of word count. Especially for the mid-to-heavyweight games I love—if I tried explaining their rules, I’d waste dozens of pages in this book! Is that okay for a commercial publication? No way, it’s absolutely not—

Oh, wait, I’m currently throwing seventeen pages down the drain. In that case, explaining the charm of Feast for Odin or Terraforming Mars would’ve been way more…

Ahem. Anyway, I hope you’ll read this work as “a rom-com where board games come up a lot.” On the other hand, for those unfamiliar with board games, every game mentioned in this book is ridiculously fun, so if you’re even a little curious, please give them a try!

Now, another distinctive feature of The Relationship of Play is its slightly tricky timeline.

Within this book alone, the first chapter is actually the most recent in the timeline. Conversely, the epilogue is the oldest. This structure was chosen purely because it was the most optimal way to reveal the story’s information.

…Ugh, what happened to the fluffy rom-com about casually playing board games…?

Oh, here’s a tidbit: due to the unconventional timeline, the first chapter doubles as a sort of “epilogue to the epilogue.” If you reread the first chapter, you might pick up on details you skimmed over the first time.

And as you read the first chapter, you might feel like continuing to the second. By the time you reach the epilogue again, you’ll probably want to reread the first chapter…

Hooray! It’s an infinite loop novel! Ultimate cost-performance! This one book is complete on its own! No need for a sequel at all! Aoi Sekina’s ultimate standalone rom-com, triumphantly complete—

Huh? Wait, Editor-san? Why does the promo say “New Series Begins”? No, no, look, read it closely. It’s designed to be endlessly enjoyable with just one book…

What? The illustrations are by Misaki Kurehito-san? No, no, wait a sec. You can’t just use flattery to motivate me. This is already complete, endlessly readable with one book. Sure, I wouldn’t mind writing a sequel, but it’s totally fine to end it here with no regrets—

What? Misaki-san is actually doing the illustrations? For real?

……

Sorry, Editor-san, I’m heading home.

Why? To write volume two, obviously!

So, with that said, there’s probably going to be a volume two.

Next time, a certain women’s Meijin-san who’s “somehow basically the protagonist” will finally reveal her “true form” in full, so please look forward to it!

Now, in the midst of all this, we’ve already burned through fifteen pages. Looking back, I was tempted to say, “Wow, that went by fast,” but no, I can’t. It’s long. Plain and simple. I’m sure you readers feel the same.

By the way, I started writing this afterword at midnight for some reason. Even with a few breaks, it’s now noon. The sun’s dazzling.

Staying up all night for a good manuscript feels refreshing. But today? Not refreshing, not even exhausting, just one word:

“What?”

That’s it. Seriously, what is this? This labor… labor?

Now, for the acknowledgments.

First, to Misaki Kurehito-san, who graciously took on the illustrations for this book. Thank you so much. For a while, even after hearing from my editor, I was skeptical, thinking, “No way, it’s probably just flattery…” Then one day, I got the roughs for Mifuru and Tsukino, and the shock is unforgettable.

“Wow, so cute. Huh? For real? What is this, seriously so cute. For real? …For real?”

I truly learned the meaning of “flabbergasted.” You perfectly matched the tricky style of this volume with your art, and I’m endlessly grateful. I look forward to working with you moving forward. …Uh, just one thing, sorry, but volume two is also pretty tricky…

Next, to my editor and the Fantasia Bunko editorial team. I’m so sorry for dragging things out for years with just “New work? I’m writing, I’m writing!” exchanges. But I swear, I was writing. A different work. One that wouldn’t finish.

The fact that I managed to complete The Relationship of Play is entirely thanks to the editorial team’s patient support. Thank you so much. I look forward to your continued guidance.

And above all, to the readers who picked up this book.

Thank you so much. And to those who’ve read this ridiculously long afterword to the end? It’s not just gratitude—I’m starting to feel guilty.

But to repay you all, I’ll keep pouring my heart into writing The Relationship of Play, so please continue to support it going forward.

That’s all for now. Let’s meet again in The Relationship of Play 2, where all relationships will hopefully take “one step forward” with board games at the center!

…Here’s hoping the next afterword is just the right length.

Aoi Sekina