The Original Dream

To be honest.

If there really was another way, Tang Yao truly didn't want to draw it herself.

She didn't want to do the same work she'd done in her previous life. It took a long time, paid very little, and came with an unpredictable future once AI appeared... Of course, most importantly, she didn't want to go through another life of drawing day and night.

She'd already experienced it once, and the end result hadn't been great: a herniated disc, chronic neck strain, long-term sleep deprivation, eye fatigue, and in the end, it seemed she'd even died.

That was also why she couldn't understand the original owner's desire to become a manga artist.

She'd never actually serialized a manga, and the industry in her previous life hadn't been particularly prosperous, but even if you'd never eaten pork, you'd still seen pigs run... There was a good line in Dream Eater: a manga artist was someone who spent their whole life drawing manga.

But even getting to the point of publishing in a weekly magazine didn't mean you were safe. The moment you lost popularity, your series would be axed. Fewer than one in a hundred thousand people could make a living as manga artists for their entire lives, and even those who managed it earned about as much on average as an ordinary salaried worker.

Geniuses were betting their lives on something like that. It was practically gambling.

And after a manga was serialized, not getting axed only meant the beginning. The path of a professional manga artist was long; in a way, it was like running a marathon with no visible finish line.

The manga artists most people knew by name had already been running that marathon for half their lives.

But the vast majority never even got the chance to start running.

So Tang Yao couldn't quite understand.

For the sake of a dream?

A dream...

Tang Yao looked at the drawing paper before her and suddenly fell silent.

She suddenly couldn't remember why she'd learned to draw in her previous life.

The reason she'd started had been swallowed up by a suffocating future and the pressures of reality, leaving only numbness in its place.

By the end, all she knew was how to complain about the planners and draw sexy female characters modeled after popular mobile games to meet the requirements.

The same thing, day after day. The same thing, year after year.

Until, just before she died, she'd even begun to regret choosing that line of work.

And after coming here, she'd instinctively resisted picking up a pencil again.

Why?

Why had she started learning to draw in the first place?

Oh... It seemed she'd wanted to become a manga artist, too.

But later, for the sake of survival, for the sake of putting food on the table, her original dream had gradually disappeared.

She'd stopped being childish and naive and started trying to survive in the adult world.

At the thought, Tang Yao took a deep breath. After a moment of silence, she muttered to herself, "All this talk about not understanding is really just an excuse to defend the version of me who gave up in my previous life. That's awful of me..."

"What are you doing?"

Just then,

Xun's voice rang out.

The girl appeared in the bedroom doorway. She looked at Tang Yao, sitting in her chair and staring blankly at the drawing paper, puzzled.

Tang Yao turned to look at the girl standing there... To be honest, even though their souls had nothing to do with each other, she still felt close to her. And whenever she looked at her, memories belonging to the original owner kept surfacing.

She remembered all those difficult years she'd gone through with her younger sister, and every little thing that had happened.

Those memories kept changing her.

They'd even made her remember her original dream.

...Probably.

Tang Yao gently waved the pencil in her hand, then smiled brightly. "Your big sister here is going to pick up her dream of becoming a manga artist again."

"Didn't you say you were giving up?"

Tang Xun came up behind her sister and reached out to touch her damp hair, then went to rummage around on the shelf beside the bed.

"I definitely can't become a professional manga artist."

Tang Yao smiled again. "It's just too hard to make money that way, and it takes too long. I still think other fields are easier to earn money in, like games. But being a manga artist without much passion isn't so bad either... right?"

"I don't understand what you're saying."

Tang Xun returned behind Tang Yao with a hair dryer. It whirred to life, sending warm air over her.

"You're not supposed to."

Tang Yao smiled, turned back to the drawing paper, and whispered, her pretty face beaming, "I just suddenly remembered my original dream."

"..."

Tang Xun gazed at her sister's profile and said nothing.

A good while later,

She seemed to think of something and suddenly said, "Washing and drying your hair every day is such a hassle."

Tang Yao hadn't heard her clearly and tilted her head slightly. "Huh?"

"Your hair."

Tang Xun switched off the hair dryer. "It's a hassle to dry it every time."

"Actually, you don't have to worry about me. I can dry it myself."

Tang Yao came back to her senses and turned to look at the girl gathering her long hair. She smiled. "Maybe I'll cut it short in a while."

"..."

Tang Xun paused, then replied, "Why do you have it in for your own hair? You said you were going to cut it short a week ago, too..."

Tang Yao looked thoughtful and joked, "Isn't that how it is in anime and manga? The heroine makes a change and cuts her long hair..."

"What kind of anime have you been watching? Who in real life cuts their long hair whenever something happens? Do you have to pick a fight with your hair every time you want to show you've changed?"

Tang Xun deadpanned, then switched the hair dryer back on. She gently lifted her sister's long hair, carefully separating any tangled strands while moving the dryer from one spot to another. "Weird."

But Tang Yao hadn't heard her.

She'd started thinking about what she should draw.

Remembering some things had suddenly made everything clear to her, and she even felt a long-lost surge of passion.

But in the end, emotions couldn't put food on the table.

She still needed to calm down and think about what she should draw.

It might only be a substitute, and she might not be famous, but she'd treat it as a tribute to her past self and give it her all for once.

So what exactly should she draw?

Tang Yao began recalling all the manga she'd read, turning back through them until she reached the very beginning.

What manga had made her decide she wanted to become a manga artist?

It seemed to have been... horror manga.

Junji Ito's horror manga.

At the thought,

Tang Yao smiled knowingly. It seemed like a pretty good fit. The Manga Award had a page limit, and horror manga had plenty of short stories. Most importantly... it was the genre most likely to make an impact.

This was only meant to be a steady work to see her through a transitional period. She had no particular ambitions, so the more impactful it was, the better.

At the thought,

Tang Yao's smile grew even brighter.

Junji Ito's manga really did pack a punch.

Those images.

Yeah.

She had it.

It would be... Uzumaki!

"Done."

At some point,

The hair dryer had been switched off, and Xun's voice rang out again. "Remember to wear the outfit on the bed tomorrow."

"Outfit?"

Tang Yao was still immersed in her own world. Hearing that out of the blue, she looked confused.

Tang Xun pointed at the dress lying on the bed.

Tang Yao glanced back, then gave her a peculiar look. "Xun, I'm your older sister, not your dress-up doll."

Tang Xun looked her seated sister up and down. Even sitting down, her lovely curves were impossible to miss. Thinking of the clothes in the washing machine, she asked, "You have such a good figure. Why do you choose to dress so dowdily?"

"Because it's comfortable."

"..."

Tang Xun silently stared at her sister, her fair little face expressionless.

"..."

Tang Yao knew her excuse was a little flimsy. She tilted her head and asked, "You're not satisfied with that reason?"

"No."

"Then put yourself in my shoes. Do you like people staring at you when you walk down the street?"

"...Not really."

"Exactly. So you don't need to pick out clothes for me anymore. Your big sister doesn't need to dress up."

At that, Tang Xun's left hand, hanging loosely at her side, clenched slightly. "If it's because of money..."

"That has nothing to do with it!"

Tang Yao smiled, then stuck out her chest and declared, "But your big sister will definitely make money!"

Tang Xun looked at her sister, who had puffed out her impressive chest and was brimming with confidence. Then she said, "Actually... you don't have to worry about me. You could kick me out of the house, and then you'd never have to see my sour face again."

"Why would I kick you out?"

Tang Yao looked at her younger sister in surprise. "Then what would be the point of making money? How did we end up talking about this?"

Before she'd arrived,

Her younger sister had occasionally said things about kicking her out, too.

It was strange.

"..."

Tang Xun fell silent and looked at her sister without answering. She simply turned and walked out. "I'll get you a glass of water."

"Okay~ Thanks."

Tang Yao watched the girl hurry out of the room, puzzled.

But she didn't dwell on it. Soon, she turned her attention back to the desk and started recalling the manga that had introduced her to the genre.

Those grotesque, twisted human heads...

As she thought about them,

Tang Yao became absorbed in her thoughts, and her hand began to move of its own accord.

Elsewhere,

Tang Xun poured a glass of water and gently set it on the corner of the desk. She glanced at Tang Yao's absorbed profile, then turned to straighten the bedding. After playing on her phone for a while, she went out to take the laundry from the washing machine and hang it up, then tidied the living room a little.

By the time she finally had some free time, it was already half past ten.

When Tang Xun returned to the room once more,

Tang Yao was still sitting at the desk, sketching away.

She didn't disturb her. She simply climbed into bed, then turned onto her side and kept watching the graceful figure at the desk. After a long while, she finally looked away, took out her phone, and made sure the camera shutter sound was muted before taking a picture of Tang Yao's back.

Then she started writing in her diary.

Tang Yao kept drawing until the early hours of the morning. The only time she left her desk was when she turned off the light and switched to the desk lamp so she wouldn't disturb Tang Xun's sleep; otherwise, she didn't move from her chair.