To the Dead Souls Swarming Around 100-Character Instant Delusions: The Everystar 'Super Delusion Contest' Tests the Explosive Power and Shallowness of Writers
Will you sell your soul in just three lines, or will you sear the reader's throat with 100 characters?
To the dead souls swarming around 100-character instant delusions: The Everystar 'Super Delusion Contest' tests the explosive power and shallowness of writers.
Don't just gloss over it with the symbol for 'hot.' Slam down raw heat that burns through the frozen daily grind.
“Participate in as few as three lines,” “Beginners welcome,” “Easy to join”—how many writers feel like vomiting when they see the requirements for Everystar’s '273rd Super Delusion Contest' lined with such pleasant-sounding catchphrases?
They lower the barrier to entry as far as possible, encouraging 'easy creation' that one could think of while lying down with a smartphone in hand. The accumulation of the number 273 speaks to a cunning platform system that fuels the gambling spirit of easy validation and continues to suck up massive amounts of hollow, trashy prose.
The grand prize is 30,000 yen in QUO Card Pay and a critique. 20,000 yen for the runner-up, 10,000 yen for an honorable mention. Aiming for this pocket change, hundreds, even thousands of self-proclaimed writers swarm around the theme of 'hot.' 'Hot' (temperature), 'thick,' 'hot' (passionate), 'deep'—the example sentences in the requirements list tired, overused templates like 'frying an egg on asphalt,' 'a hot-blooded guy,' and 'a thick novel manuscript.'
However, make no mistake. The extremely wide regulation—from 100 characters (about three lines) to 8,000 characters—most cruelly strips the writer's ability bare.
With fewer characters, there is no room for deception. You are not allowed to pad with modifiers or hide behind complex plots. You either strike the reader's brain in just three lines, or you expose your own shallowness and head straight for the trash bin. Because it is short, the writer's scent of daily life, obsession, and the sharpness of their words are revealed all the more clearly.
No one wants to read 'hot delusions' thought up while sipping lukewarm cafe latte in an air-conditioned room. The reflection of the midsummer asphalt, the weight of work clothes soaked in sweat and machine oil, the thirst that makes your throat stick, or the moment when a long-held cold revenge reaches its boiling point—everything depends on whether you can offer that kind of genuine 'heat' that comes with physical pain.
The deadline is the early hours of September 14, 2026.
Will you end it with easy wordplay, or will you burn the reader's skin with a 100-character blade? Below, I have slammed down three samples that shatter overused templates. If reading this makes you feel intimidated, you might as well close your keyboard and go quietly to sleep.
【Sample Submission 1 (Ultra-short story, approx. 120 characters)】
Title: Thermal Cutting
The master grabbed the apprentice's chin with a hand like a vise after he muttered, 'It's hot.' It wasn't the heat of the lathe throwing off sparks. It wasn't the pain of iron filings scattering, burning through his work clothes and biting into his skin. Deep within the cloudy eyeballs of the man who had been crawling on this oil-stained floor for twenty years, only that part was maddeningly hot.
【Sample Submission 2 (Short-short story, approx. 300 characters)】
Title: Thick Wall
Throwing the resignation agency's notice into the shredder, the executive slammed a thick brown envelope onto the desk. 'This is what was in his desk drawer.' Inside was a vivid diary of ten years of factory fraud and quality falsification. The stack of paper was over five centimeters thick.
'He never intended to quit from the start. He intends to take us all down with him.'
In the midsummer prefab office, the air conditioning was set to 18 degrees. But the work clothes stuck to his back were heavy and soaked with cold sweat, and it was so stifling he couldn't breathe.
【Sample Submission 3 (Ultra-short story, approx. 150 characters)】
Title: Lingering Scent of Fever
When I stepped off at the station of my hometown, which I had abandoned forty years ago, heat haze was shimmering over the asphalt. A rusted vending machine, the shadows of abandoned houses, the carcasses of cicadas. Even though everything in my memory was bleached and dried out, only the palm of my right hand, which pushed you aside by the railroad tracks that summer, still felt burning hot.
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