[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo":3,"chapter-becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-100":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Becoming a Goddess in Tokyo",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2339084,4573,"Chapter 100","becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-100",100,"\u003Cp>“I knew the sheet music had been leaked—turns out someone was scheming behind the scenes.” Luo Quan stared straight at Iwazaki Eiji, considering whether to kick him right in the face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Iwazaki Eiji smiled casually: “What proof do you have that you wrote that song?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since Luo Quan had shown up, he had no intention of dragging this out. This woman always acted unpredictably—if she got angry and beat him up later, it would be a terrible loss.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as Iwazaki Eiji was about to slip away, Luo Quan softly said to him: “You really think I can’t find a way to prove it? What’s mine will always be mine.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Iwazaki Eiji stiffened, startled for an instant, but after thinking it through, he remembered he was the first to register the copyright for this song in Japan—everything hinges on copyright.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unless Luo Quan could produce concrete evidence, but before that, he’d already sent people to scour every corner of Japan’s internet and found zero traces of this song—he was the sole original uploader!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for the testimonies from Aileshe members, they were utterly unreliable—no need to worry at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With that thought, Iwazaki Eiji felt reassured. He casually wrapped his arm around Sawano Haruko and walked away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan, of course, had her own plan. Since the rumor first surfaced, she hadn’t panicked once—tonight would settle everything. If Iwazaki Eiji was determined to destroy himself, she wouldn’t stop him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Right now, the real problem was how to comfort Anzō Yū, who was on the verge of collapse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this incident, he’d been collateral damage—Iwazaki Eiji had really been targeting her, but in the end, he suffered the most.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’d known Anzō Yū for less than half a month; their bond wasn’t deep. But she was the only familiar face he had now, so the duty of comforting him naturally fell to her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan was terrible at giving heartfelt pep talks—but she excelled at using poison to counter poison.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Are you okay?” Luo Quan asked, looking down at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anzō Yū spoke hollowly: “I’m sorry. I betrayed you all. It’s all my fault.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The real culprits are Iwazaki Eiji and Sawano Haruko. You’re just a victim. No one will blame you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Why did it turn out like this? I did everything I could for her, yet in her eyes, it was all worthless…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was still thinking about that awful woman. Luo Quan was speechless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Want to hear the truth?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What truth?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The truth is, you only ever moved yourself.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anzō Yū looked up, bewildered: “What… do you mean?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“People often use self-abusive behaviors to fabricate an illusion of devotion, positioning themselves morally above others, gaining a twisted sense of satisfaction and security.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whether it’s standing outside their door late at night or braving rain to deliver a milk tea, you recall these acts as epic, like one man holding off an army—but to them, a milk tea is just a milk tea. It can’t carry the cataclysmic emotions you tried to pour into it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one can bear the emotional burden of another; only by becoming an independent and valuable person can you truly learn to love someone. True love lies in mutual attraction and shared interests—not pursuit, dependence, or self-pity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Do you understand what I’m saying?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her long speech struck Anzō Yū to the core. Though it completely invalidated all his past efforts, it also made him see where he’d gone wrong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He and Sawano Haruko had never been from the same world. From the start, his fantasies about her were mistaken—and the more he pursued, the more wrong he became.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d always believed he’d given his all, done his best—but to Sawano Haruko, it meant nothing, and certainly didn’t move her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When two people stand on unequal footing in love, what good outcome can there be?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anzō Yū’s eyes slowly shifted from dull to bright. He looked at Luo Quan with deep sincerity: “Thank you, Luo Quan-san.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan shrugged: “It was nothing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anzō Yū asked curiously: “How come you understand all this so well? Where did you learn such profound truths?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan smiled: “It’s a bit embarrassing, but I’ll tell you—I used to be exactly like you. Luckily, I woke up in time.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anzō Yū exclaimed: “So even someone as amazing as Luo Quan once played the role of a love-struck follower?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan just smiled, saying nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She couldn’t explain it—could she say the woman she was now wasn’t the same as the one she’d been?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Go change your clothes quickly. You looked awful earlier—probably caught a cold. Take medicine and rest well.” Luo Quan handed him the other umbrella.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, the rain finally stopped. A brilliant rainbow arced across the clearing sky. Luo Quan set down her umbrella, shook off the rain, and smiled: “Looks like we don’t need it anymore.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yeah… we don’t need it,” Anzō Yū murmured.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After school, Luo Quan immediately sent Miki to the Japan Music Copyright Association to find out the creator’s name of “Re:make.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At first, the association firmly refused, citing the creator’s request for confidentiality—but after Luo Quan showed some evidence, they immediately changed their tune.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Music copyright is taken extremely seriously in Japan, and copyright theft is a serious crime. The association chose to cooperate immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The creator’s name was quickly revealed: Kobayashi Nishihiko.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Iwazaki Eiji wasn’t completely stupid—he at least knew to find a scapegoat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Originally, Luo Quan had planned to expose everything and make Iwazaki Eiji socially dead. But Miki, who now knew the full story, advised her not to be so extreme—to leave him a way out. After all, this was Japan, and he was the second son of the Mitsubishi conglomerate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan sighed: “This is why I hate capital. Thank goodness my country doesn’t have this kind of thing—at least not openly.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the end, she compromised and adjusted the draft of her accusation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At 8 p.m., Luo Quan posted a tweet: “Someone stole my song and gave it to Super Band. I’ve obtained the copyright registration time from the Japan Music Copyright Association—it’s exactly 24 hours later than when I uploaded the video on Bilibili. This is irrefutable proof!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I’m giving this person twelve hours to transfer the copyright to my name. Otherwise, I’ll reveal the entire truth—and you know exactly what will happen.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Below the tweet was a video link: a vlog she’d uploaded about a week ago, showing what she’d done that day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the very end of the video, she was holding up a sheet of music, facing the camera and saying she’d written a song that day. The camera was so close, the notes and lyrics were clearly visible—any professional could recognize it as the sheet music for “Re:make!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the upload time of this vlog was exactly 24 hours earlier than the copyright registration time of “Re:make” at the Japan Music Copyright Association!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The tweet exploded online. No one expected copyright theft to happen in modern-day Japan. It sparked massive discussion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone condemned the anonymous thief—how dare they steal from Luo Quan? It was sheer suicide!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But less than two hours after the buzz surged, all related news stories were either toned down or deleted, and attention plummeted to zero.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan knew: capital had intervened. And she understood that Iwazaki Eiji must have found out by now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he certainly didn’t have the power to make media outlets suppress this story—it had to be his grandfather or father.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Either way, Iwazaki Eiji’s days were definitely going to be miserable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Luo Quan predicted, Iwazaki Eiji had just been slapped twice—hard—by his father.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I sent you to Tokyo University to do this?” Iwazaki Jinpei’s voice was furious. Iwazaki Eiji just covered his face, bowing his head meekly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Answer me! Why did I send you to Tokyo University?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Iwazaki Eiji trembled and repeated the words his father had once told him: “Study hard. Get into the Akamon faction. Make those talented young people your future allies.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Akamon is a major Japanese cultural heritage site. The gate of the residence where Princess Tokugawa, daughter of Tokugawa Ienari, lived after her marriage was painted red—hence the name Akamon. Today, it’s Tokyo University’s most famous landmark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Akamon faction refers to the network of elite Tokyo University alumni in politics, business, and academia—a powerful force in Japan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Especially in politics: over half of Japan’s top officials graduated from Tokyo University. It has produced thirteen Japanese prime ministers and ranks first among Japanese universities—hence its reputation as the cradle of Japan’s elite bureaucrats.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Iwazaki Jinpei sent Iwazaki Eiji to study law at Tokyo University precisely for this reason—not expecting him to rank among the top students, but to befriend them, and ultimately join the Akamon faction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Initially, Iwazaki Eiji had done well. He got along fine with Inoue Aozora, Keimi Masaru, and others. Had nothing gone wrong, over the years he could have built genuine friendships with these elites.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now, Iwazaki Eiji had ruined the path his father laid out for him. Iwazaki Jinpei, who had never laid a hand on his son before, finally lost his patience and slapped him twice.\u003C\u002Fp>",1527,"2026-06-20T22:54:01.657Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","5450274645e259187d356e8c8b3839aad120b732747613b48b7a9aeee333a1ce","becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-101","becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-99",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fbecoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-cover.jpg"]