Night blanketed Kyoto.
Seiji Fujiwara stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling window of his 480,000-yen-a-month luxury apartnt.
The glittering city stretched beneath his feet.
In his hand was a glass of single-malt Scotch. He swirled the tulip-shaped glass slowly, the amber liquid catching the light and scattering it into a warm glow.
Luxury. Quiet. That intoxicating sense of holding the whole world in his grasp.
This—this was the life Seiji Fujiwara had always wanted.
He had no desire to even rember those twenty-odd years of being a wage slave in his previous life.
Bzzz—! Bzzz—!
The phone resting on the marble bar began to vibrate.
He turned leisurely, picked it up, and glanced at the screen—Sonoko Machida.
He slid his thumb to answer.
"Warukawa-sensei!!!"
The mont the call connected, Sonoko Machida's excited shriek exploded through the receiver.
"We… we did it! We actually did it, Sensei!"
He could imagine her on the other end, completely losing her composure from sheer joy.
"Day one! This is just the first day of release, Sensei! 6 Days, 6 People, 6 Guns has already broken sixty thousand copies in real-ti sales across all channels!!"
"Sixty thousand! We've smashed Fushikawa Bunko's—no, the entire Japanese light novel industry's—record for a debut work in the past ten years!"
"Every bookstore in the country is begging our distribution departnt for more stock! The phones haven't stopped ringing! The editor-in-chief is so excited he's about to have a heart attack!"
Seiji listened patiently, a faint smile on his lips.
It took Sonoko a while to calm down.
"Thank you for bringing such good news, Machida-editor," Seiji replied at last, his tone steady, casual.
This was nothing yet.
Just the system's starter pack.
Only the beginning.
On the other end of the line, Sonoko froze at his calm response.
But only for a heartbeat. The next mont, admiration welled up inside her like a surging tide.
Look at him!
What composure!
As unshaken as a mountain even when the sky collapses!
As if this industry-shaking achievent were nothing more than a flick of his finger!
This was a true genius.
Sonoko drew in a deep breath, her tone turning respectful as she continued her report. "Sensei! Just now, the company held an ergency eting—we're printing another 100,000 copies!"
"One hundred thousand, Sensei! That's top-tier bestseller treatnt!"
"Your second advance royalty will be deposited into your account first thing tomorrow morning!"
"Oh, and Editor-in-Chief Aida asked to check—where would you like the celebration party? He'll find a way to book any high-end restaurant in Kyoto, no matter how impossible it is to reserve!"
Listening to Sonoko's unstoppable stream of excitent, Seiji chuckled.
"Skip the party. I'm not fond of noisy crowds," he cut her off. "Please handle the rest of the sales, Machida-san."
"That's my job," she said quickly.
They chatted a bit more before hanging up.
Silence returned to the bar.
Seiji went back to savoring his expensive drink in peace.
…
…
At the sa ti, across Kyoto—
A hospital corridor.
The air was heavy, suffocating.
Utaha Kasumigaoka leaned numbly against the cold white wall.
Her face was pale, shrouded in despair.
Her long black hair hung slightly disheveled. That face—usually as proud and graceful as a swan—now showed nothing but sickly helplessness and fear.
In her hand, she clutched a crumpled piece of paper.
It was a notice she had just received from the attending physician.
Patient: Haruko Kasumigaoka. Post-surgery intracranial pressure abnormally elevated. CT shows acute subdural hematoma. Condition critical. A second ergency craniotomy must be perford within 24 hours to remove the hematoma or the patient's life will be at risk.
This surgery carries an extrely high risk—success rate below 40%—and a strong likelihood of severe aftereffects.
Estimated cost for surgery and subsequent ICU care: 3 million yen.
Three million.
The number weighed on her like a mountain, crushing the breath from her lungs.
The previous operation's 500,000 yen had already drained the last of her savings.
Where could she possibly find another three million in just 24 hours?
Borrow from relatives or friends?
Those so-called relatives had already vanished the mont they learned of her family's situation.
She had nowhere left to turn.
Tears slid silently down her cheeks.
Suddenly—
Utaha rembered the neighbor who had approached her a few days ago—Seiji Fujiwara.
I'll give you 500,000 yen. Buy you for a month.
At the ti, she had thought it was a shaless insult.
But now…
That devilish figure had beco her last hope.
Could it be…
Utaha's nails dug deep into her palms.
She had her pride. She had her dignity.
How could she sell herself like this?
But… Mom…
The image of her mother—her only family—lying on a hospital bed at death's door flashed through her mind, and she bit down hard on her lip.
She wrestled with herself for what felt like an eternity.
At last, she exhaled, her face set in grim resolve.
For her mother... what did it matter?
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