Thank you so much to all players who purchased Maggot's Bliss!

I’ve uninstalled all apps and stepped away from the internet right now, so a friend helped me collect feedback and Steam reviews—thank you so, so much! You not only read through this lengthy work but also took the time to leave comments and suggestions; that’s such a kind, gentle gesture. I truly appreciate it! Even though it might seem like a small number, to me, it means the world.

I’m the type who can’t stay idle—so even though I’m currently writing the script for my next work and juggling other tasks, I couldn’t resist starting to type… Anyway, let’s chat casually! I’ll touch on a variety of topics. Of course, I know my writing has objective flaws, so this is just a discussion of my abstract creative approach: why I wrote things this way, and why I couldn’t write them differently.

From the start, I never intended for this work to be fully immersive.

In fact, because the themes, characters’ ideologies, and conflicting emotions here are so volatile, I deliberately avoided letting readers immerse themselves in this dangerous story. I’ve been repeatedly breaking the connection between readers and the work. The protagonist’s and other characters’ pain is too overwhelming; the darkness depicted in the story is too heavy. There are too many moments where the protagonist can’t even think clearly…

So if you feel uncomfortable because the connection was broken, or because the method of breaking it felt abrupt or clumsy—just put it down!

It’s simple: I started writing Thom’s story because of this part.

I know you might be desensitized to it, or furious, or just tired of seeing this kind of content in a work—I understand completely, more than anyone. Feel free to skip or fast-forward through it.

That said, it still has a reason to exist in my mind: it can be skipped, but it can’t vanish. It can’t stop existing; I can’t stop myself from documenting it. So it has to be there.

If this part disappears, the evidence disappears too.

Maybe many things will fade: the specific names, the pain you once swore you’d never forget, all the vivid lives that exist now… But the documented, listed proof won’t.

If you lose sight of that proof, years later you might even forget why you hurt. You might have your memories rewritten. You might start thinking, “Was my pain really that big of a deal?” This isn’t an exaggeration—it’s the truth. It’s what has happened, is happening, and will happen.

If your body remembers the pain, but your brain forgets who or what put you in that pain—you’re done for.

It’s so hard to keep going.

I know that better than anyone.

So I refuse to let the perpetrators disappear.

I won’t let the people who caused this harm fade from everyone’s memory again—doing nothing, 轻飘飘，just because their words are too hurtful for anyone to want to look at or acknowledge.

Then, years later, they can show up smiling and say: Did we actually do anything? You’re just being oversensitive, right?

People’s memories do tremble in the face of that kind of doubt.

And all the other parts of the story, all the other words—they’re the band-aids stuck on to heal and soothe that wound.

Surprised? That this part is the “vinegar,” and everything else is just the “dumpling wrapper”?

Well, that’s not quite accurate. I don’t want something that disgusting to be the “vinegar.”

To be precise: the core of this story is pain, and love is the band-aid.

Because the pain spilled over until I had to speak it, I tried to wrap it in enough love to overpower it.

Without the pain, the love that surges to overwhelm it would lose its power to convince.

OLC is the same kind of story as Thom.

So yes—this is a stubborn creative starting point! It’s bizarre!

It’s totally normal if you can’t accept this!

I also know full well that my work will always be niche because of this.

This is part of my personal writing style and starting point, so it’s hard to change. And because it’s hard to change, I’m saying this here.

To explain things to players who’ve already read the work, and to warn those who might read my stories in the future… Though I probably won’t write stories like this again. I have nothing left to say on this front. Trying to fully depict the protagonist, only to be misunderstood because the story is too close—how frustrating!

So, to repeat: if you can’t accept this, feel free to leave a negative review, warn others, and walk away. Thank you!

I’ll mostly keep writing the way I do. I’m sorry!

Call it stubborn, call it unheeding—this is just how I tell stories.

It’s why I started telling stories in the first place.

It’s why I can tell stories at all.

If you take away the source of the pain, I’d find I’ve long since lost the strength to speak.

If I don’t look at the source of the disaster, don’t remember the perpetrators—if there’s only unaccountable leftover pain and unrooted mutual comfort and salvation—I can’t keep living.

I wouldn’t have made it to today.

But you don’t have to be like me.

I think works and readers should filter each other, so if this part isn’t your cup of tea, feel free to step away cleanly!

I don’t think there’s any pain you have to grit your teeth and endure—none—so run away when you can’t take it.

Of course, if you want to curse while running, that’s fine. I wrote a story full of pain, after all… But if I’m being honest: I think OLC and Thom are just triggers, not the ones who hurt you or will leave this pain with you.

I never intended to hurt any player when creating this. I don’t get joy from hurting others—I know how painful it is to be hurt.

If it hurts, it’s only because the source itself is that ugly.

If you don’t have to look at or endure the source of the pain—if you don’t need to desensitize yourself by staring at pain repeatedly, or force yourself to keep going that way—you don’t have to look. Really!

This story wasn’t made to hurt people who are already happy.

It wasn’t made to hurt people who are already in pain.

It was made for people who can understand this pain, have endured it, and can understand this way of embracing themselves and trying to save themselves.

The ones who save you from both sides are our two protagonists: Shirotori 蝇 (Shirotori Hae) and Niwa 椿 (Niwa Tsubaki).

Even if Tsubaki seems like a powerless kid, don’t overlook her efforts.

It’s normal for ideals to be swept up by reality. Even so, she’s been trying in her own way the whole time.

If you say Hae has everything under control, that’d be ignoring all of Tsubaki’s hard work up to this point, wouldn’t it?

But since so many elements here are niche, I knew from the first word that only a few people would understand this story.

That’s why I’ve kept saying: leave whenever you can’t take it. I mean it.

This isn’t sarcasm, isn’t passive-aggressive, isn’t self-defense—please don’t take this sincerity as empty words, clichés, or polite pleasantries everyone uses. Even I’d get angry if you did. This is genuine, sincere, because I don’t want to hurt any of you.

If you can’t take it, leave anytime.

You can run away.

You don’t have to endure like the protagonist. You don’t have to empathize like a dog. You don’t have to sink into the mire like the junior. You don’t have to be trapped by social identity like the ex-girlfriend. You don’t have to suppress yourself because of status like the underclassman. You don’t have to give up choices for family like the club president.

Almost everyone depicted in this work is a symbol of “mistakes.”

But you don’t have to carry on that mistake.

I’ve said on every platform that Thom is a “story of the past”—this is why.

It’s a story of the past, but the people from the past are still alive in this world.

Since they’re not dead yet, I feel I have to write this story.

Until my pen writes about her death.

Because I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to be hurt.

Reality is already hurtful enough.

I’ve been hurt so many times that I don’t have much tolerance for things others (or my old self) could handle normally. It’s frustrating, it’s discouraging—I even blame myself for it. But that’s just how it is. I’m trying to learn to cope, though; one way is to say exactly what I’m thinking, openly and without pretense… But my part isn’t important!

The important thing is… please be gentle, at least, to the people in the story who’re trying to fight this pain.

The work is fictional, but the pain isn’t.

I’m someone who can’t ignore or skip pain, so even if I try to convince myself to show love, I can’t write a story with no shadow at all—one that’s purely happy and cheerful.

In fact, I started writing stories because “stories that try to convey happiness are too happy. So happy that they make me hurt.”

Under the light of perfect happiness, that small, misplaced pain has nowhere to go.

But in works that do depict this pain, it’s often treated as a symbol of strength, a 猎奇 symbol, or a decorative spectacle. That’s even more unacceptable to me—it makes me angrier.

I wanted a work that could hold my pain, look it in the eye, never look away, and remember who left the scars. But at the same time, it would try to solve the problem, keep acting, and finally lead to love. It would do its best to offer solutions within its power.

So maybe you can think of OLC and Thom as works like that.

Pain is where the work starts; love is the conclusion it struggles toward.

That’s why I couldn’t not write either part.

Of course, I know that for a game—documenting so much pain isn’t common or appropriate… Most people play games to seek entertainment. I should probably write more mainstream, happier stories to make more people happy. Some might say this belongs as a novel, not a game—no one wants to read this…

But since both images and words appear equally in my mind, I chose a format that could present both.

And since I only start creating to overcome pain, I can’t make more happiness. The joy and love in each work are already the limits of what I could manage at the time.

But also: this work is full of undeniable love and happiness.

Because some people do seek this kind of thing in this format.

Because some people do want to read it…

So I keep writing.

That’s the beauty of works.

There are countless works in the world, so any kind of story can come into being.

A single work doesn’t have to carry all expectations—there will always be other stories to tell what you didn’t, and tell it better…

But even so, only your work will tell it in your way, with your words. That’s why you have to write it, no matter what.

It turns out there are players who understand.

People who are in pain. People hurt by things like this. People who fully get the story’s starting point.

To use characters from my more positive previous work as an analogy: people like 炙冬 (Zhidong), who are in pain but strong. People like 忍冬 (Rendong), who are fragile but really want to live. People like 甘遂 (Gansui)… There aren’t many right now, but I believe they exist. There must be people who can see past the calm surface to the storm inside him, and don’t think that can be ignored or skipped with a smile.

So… yes. There are people who live like Hae—people called “fake” or “crazy.” (To be clear: I’m only talking about the difficulty of understanding their emotions here, not commenting on Hae’s morality or anything else.) There are so many of them.

It’s just that everyone thinks these people are strange, so no one talks about it where others can hear. Even if everyone knows they should be tolerant morally, there’s barely any space for them in real life.

I don’t want these people to be exceptions. I want more people to know: these people exist. They don’t speak up because few people have spoken before. Please don’t reduce them to generic symbols, attention-seeking tropes, or unexamined, illogical beings summed up by a single label. Those messy, confusing, hard-to-understand words—like rambling, always fixated on abstract structures instead of concrete life—are real things in someone’s mind.

—Of course, some will say: even if they exist, you don’t have to write about them! It’s so upsetting! Stories aren’t real life—you have to abstract, refine, balance things! And why is this protagonist so nuts, always thinking about those “grand” useless things?! You’re just projecting, aren’t you?!

So… I can’t cut this part because it’s necessary for the protagonist! I’ll talk more about that later. Back to the topic.

Anyway: if you have any kind of disability (not just neurodivergence), you’re supposed to present a gentler, kinder, cuter, more understandable version of yourself to the public. Otherwise, you won’t be understood—you’ll be attacked. It’s cruel, but looking at everything that happens, it’s true… But I don’t think that’s necessary, right?

At least in fictional works!

It’s just a fictional work, after all!

Because fictional works are abstract spaces that can hold all kinds of real people.

Because they don’t hurt real people, characters like Shirotori Hae—who aren’t fully “good” and are extremely closed-off—can exist here.

Also: people don’t understand neurodivergence well, and a protagonist like this does go against typical expectations… So I was mentally prepared for the doubts and feedback I’d get from writing a protagonist like this.

But Thom’s origin is there, my desire to create is there, the pain is there, and I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t write it. So I had to write it, no matter what.

So I thought about an extreme direction and let this fool of a protagonist grow freely.

It turns out she’s the kind of person who’ll mess up her own life, huh?

I’m the type who decides the protagonist’s personality first, then writes the story. So once I realized what kind of person she was, this story was never going to have a “happy ending” in the conventional sense.

At least not a normal happy ending.

And her drifting further off course is tied to Tsubaki, too.

In fact, it’s because Tsubaki is so extreme that only someone as extreme as Hae could shatter everything about her.

Boundless empathy and a completely closed-off self—they’re polar opposites. But they’re both hurting themselves.

Because everyone has made countless mistakes, Hae (as the protagonist) has to make the biggest mistakes.

She has the most mistakes, so the others can feel at ease.

By her side, at least they can catch their breath.

And because Hae can’t understand so many things, she isn’t bound by them—so she doesn’t hurt the others, who’ve already been hurt by those bonds for so long.

Hae is a being shaped by them.

Cigarettes, popsicles, bottle caps, trying to stay silent to avoid saying the wrong thing, learning to fade into the background but still stubbornly repeating useless “righteousness” in her head to protect herself… These tiny, trivial fragments—this is how the silly Hae remembers them. They’re the marks they left on her, the reflections of their existence.

Hae isn’t just herself; she’s the trace of everyone she loves, and everyone who loves her.

A few people live on in her body, her heart, her actions.

Few, but many.

Even if there aren’t many “guests” at this “funeral” in the main story, each person’s love is no less. Even if that love is full of mistakes and ridiculous—it’s still love.

At least Hae will acknowledge it.

And because she acknowledges it, she hurts.

So… the same goes for this part. Because the protagonist is this extreme, emotion-deficient person, maybe players who struggle to understand emotions (like her) can find a place to breathe in her extreme otherness.

I’ve always wanted to create a home for some people. I knew from the start that there’d be very, very few of them. Even so, I had to write it.

Other people will write stories for more people, so I can focus on this small corner because those people exist.

That’s pretty wonderful, isn’t it?

I’m so grateful to people who write stories for most people—because they exist, I can feel safer starting these small stories.

Which is why I know those suggestions (like “say less,” the “iceberg theory”) are good. I understand them completely. The script I’m writing now follows that philosophy, and another one I wrote a year ago is the same tone. I wanted to post a sample of the script on a platform, but it got banned… Sigh. I’m left with two works where the protagonists just love talking. What a shame.

So now I can explain: why, even knowing and understanding those suggestions, I wrote this work with so much—so much that it’s mistaken for preaching, so much that the “big ideas” on the surface crumble into a mess of nonsense…

Because if I didn’t write this much, I couldn’t fully show the protagonist’s mind.

It’s not me talking—it’s Shirotori Hae.

All those thoughts about society, gender, industry, family… they’re Hae’s.

I wondered if it was too sensitive, if it would be misread as too personal to me—but that’s just the theme of this work. And so many authors write protagonists nothing like themselves; no one thinks the character’s words are the author’s. So it should be fine, right? So many people in the story argue with her—surely no one thinks I agree with her? And Hae’s thoughts have callbacks and parallels that explain some of her actions, don’t they?

But it’s totally normal if you think it’s unnecessary!

Hae’s awkward way of surviving is unnecessary.

But unnecessary people still have to convince themselves: “I’m normal like this. The world can accept me.” They have to say that to keep living.

That’s why she’s always thinking about structures, big ideas, useless crap. The small joys most people feel aren’t enough to soothe the huge numbness and pain she feels. So she has to look at bigger pain, look at structures people think “aren’t worth thinking about,” and say: The world is like this, so I’m normal like this.

After all, she was born into this unhappiness. So she has to try to keep living.

This pathetic person can’t survive without dissecting structures in her head every second, thinking about those “lofty” but useless words (unrelated to her daily life), convincing herself with the logic from those dissections, and dissociating.

Every piece of nonsense is a footprint she’s dragging herself forward with.

So her thoughts aren’t my output—in fact, I even wrote things I disagree with!

—If people think those are my thoughts, I’d spit blood! It’s maddening to be tied to something you completely reject!

—I disagree! I disagree! It’s putting the cart before the horse!

—It’s like Nabokov’s despair when he heard Dolores was a fantasy for certain people, and Lolita was their “bible”!

So if you disagree with that nonsense too—skip it! Or if you’re fed up, leave a negative review and get a refund! What is this author writing, it’s just rambling! The protagonist is crazy! The side characters are crazy! This story is crazy!

Go for it! Act for your own happiness! These inner monologues are like the forum parts—you can skip them all!

Because at the end of the day, they’re all lies!

Even if I write a thousand words of lies, there might not be a single truth in them.

But again: you can skip them, but I couldn’t not write them. Otherwise, I’d be denying Hae’s existence.

—Some might say: Really? Denying a character’s existence? You’re the author! You control what you write! You’re just bad at it! Stop saying this weird, incomprehensible stuff!

I’m sorry… but that’s not how it is. I’m not the kind of author who thinks they’re in full control. Thom is only my second work. Before OLC (my debut), I never wrote anything.

I was bad at essays, couldn’t use words well, never wrote a story. I wasn’t a writer, wasn’t a wordsmith. When I wrote my first work, I was terrified—ready for no one to understand it. I wrote 210,000 words just for myself, but after finishing, I felt nothing—not even amusement. So I just posted it casually. I even thought: Maybe I shouldn’t post it. It’s too immature. Let it gather dust. Stop wasting time on this…

Then a small number of players encouraged me with so much love.

That really pushed me to keep going. I can’t say “thank you” enough.

You’re some of the people who kept me going.

That’s why I dared to keep writing stories that give so much love to a small number of people.

So I’m not the kind of skilled, word-wielding author. I’m the kind who can’t even pick up a pen unless I fully understand a character, let them be free, and let them wander 任性 ly through the story.

—There was originally an ending for Kano and Kobayashi, too. But I gave up on it. Maybe they gave up. Because they gave up, I couldn’t imagine how to write it. They couldn’t take any more hurt, so they stayed as guests at the funeral.

—As for the BE… It’s actually an HE that the underclassman earned all by herself! Unbelievable, right? I didn’t plan to write this ending at all! But the underclassman kept throwing a fit in my head: “No! No! Let me do something!” “I don’t accept this! I have to do what I can!” So she did. She succeeded. Exceeded expectations. So cool. Typical omega. She dug the protagonist out of her grave, dragged Tsubaki (who was stuck in the “family” role for no reason), and ran away crying her eyes out.

Of course, I think about structure, the story’s core, the theme’s direction… But the dialogue, the thoughts, the descriptions—those are all the characters’.

If I block even one line, they’ll close themselves off to me, refuse to let me record the traces of their existence.

Not a single line can be missing.

Hae taps my hand. Tsubaki stares at me stubbornly. Kano looks down. Kihara covers her face. The underclassman and club president are more casual—no obsession with self-expression, just saying “Eh, whatever.”

At least in this messy, crazy, dizzying garbage dump (where only flies buzz), Shirotori Hae’s truth exists: pathetic, ridiculous, pitiable, contemptible, but absolutely refusing to be called “cute.”

Even if no one can see her through all this revulsion, at least Tsubaki sees her. And I see her.

If I don’t tell her annoying, flawed lies in full, she’ll choke me from the other side of the screen.

To avoid nightmares where Hae kills me every night, I added a lot of “Hae-style” things after telling the story “my way.”

Hae is the kind of person you can understand just from her actions and words. But she says so little out loud that she can’t stop thinking and talking in her head.

Without those sharp inner words, the “malice” and “truth” she wants to keep can’t stay. The “tiredness,” “pain,” and “burden” she feels can’t be recognized.

Weird, right? People who think like that. People who get criticized, mocked, attacked, and asked: “Why do you always think about useless things?” But they exist. Even if real people stay silent, people who do say these things in their heads exist in this story.

Because this is someone whose outward aggression has been worn away completely—so she talks to herself, attacks herself, in her head.

—If you were hurt by her sharpness, I’m so sorry! But I really can’t help it! This is her! She exists, so I can’t erase her! Curse her if you want! That’s just who she is! She’s aware she’s annoying, anyway.

This is a story where someone who seems silent is actually screaming furiously in their head, repeating “Don’t kill me with your eyes.”

Because Hae is such a liar, I have to lay out every “righteous” lie she tells.

This is how she hides her true feelings with twisted logic. Because she’s used to being attacked, she can only act normally if she keeps assuming her situation is dangerous.

If she didn’t think and say so much in her head, her words and demeanor would be a pale, shaky, fragile cover. No one would be attacked by her; no one would see her as a perpetrator.

But she can’t stand being pitied.

And looking at it now, her disguise did work, didn’t it?

She really tricked some people.

She’d probably curl the corner of her mouth in her coffin at those feelings of disgust.

These words aren’t the “big ideas” that hold her up—they’re small lies that hide her existence.

She really did hide herself.

Sigh. Anyway, Hae is the kind of person I’d call an idiot or fool… but not out of dislike, and not out of like. She doesn’t need any extra feelings from me—she just pushes away any judgment she doesn’t want and exists. If I denied her, refused to see her, this story would never have been born. So that’s that.

I rambled on with some abstract explanations, but that’s it! I’m done… for now!

Thank you again for reading this story, for touching the time these kids lived.

No matter what feelings you have about them, about all this, about this story—love or dislike, agreement or scorn, anger or sadness, praise or contempt—your gaze brought them to life in that dream, made them assert themselves on the stage, and show you this final live of their lives.

Isn’t that a very idol-like concept?

I like idols, actually.

—Speaking of which, I’m sorry I couldn’t give the idol characters more screen time. I thought a lot about each of them, about the details of their efforts. In the end, only the disbandment video got out; there was no right place to tell the rest in this work… Ugh, Tanaka’s face must be so dark!

I originally wanted to post this thank-you note for Christmas—it would’ve been more fitting… But I’ve been unwell, and I’ve had a lot on my plate, so I just asked a friend to post it now. I’m sorry! Since I’m not doing well, I’ve asked friends to handle a lot of things. If I have anything to say later, it’ll probably be posted by a friend, and bug reports are also handled by them. If you have any issues with this, please email https://[email protected].

I’m so grateful to my friends. Having friends is wonderful. They’re one of the reasons I’ve made it this far.

“Happiness” is the title, theme, and core of this story. I don’t think emphasizing it too many times will ever make the word lose its weight.

So I wish all of you happiness.

I hope this story makes people in pain feel included, makes people with restless minds feel okay to have messy thoughts, makes people bound by social rules feel they don’t have to be so hard on themselves, and makes people who struggle to face their lives feel “Even I, who’ve made so many mistakes, can keep living.”

It’s okay. It’s okay. No matter how stupid the things you’ve done are, there’s Shirotori Hae (the fool who ignores social norms) and Niwa Tsubaki (the idiot whose strong empathy makes her overthink) right there.

If you imagine talking to them, maybe you’d be understood?

It’s okay if you’re not.

After all, even though Hae doesn’t understand love at all, isn’t she still trying to love in her own way?

Unlike OLC (whose core is “understanding”), this is a story whose core is “not understanding.”

So it’s okay. It’s all okay. The most important thing is your happiness.

Thank you to everyone who read Maggot's Bliss—this 420,000-word suicide note.

The protagonist sure rambled a lot in her own last words!