In the living room, Seiji Fujiwara lounged on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.
When Utaha ca out holding her manuscript, he glanced up and smiled. "Already finished? Not bad, pretty efficient."
"Yes. I'll be in your care." Utaha handed the stack to him with unusual solemnity, then poured him a cup of hot tea.
"Alright, let's see."
Seiji set his phone aside and began flipping through the pages.
The room fell silent, broken only by the soft rustle of paper.
Utaha sat nearby, nerves wound tight.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Seiji read quickly, practically skimming ten lines in a glance. His expression never shifted.
Finally, he turned the last page.
"You're done?" Utaha blurted, unable to hold back.
"Mm." Seiji closed the manuscript, thoughtful.
Utaha's gaze fixed on him, anticipation burning in her crimson eyes.
"Your prose is excellent," he said at first, but then his tone pivoted. "But it's aningless."
Her breath hitched.
"Your story doesn't match the rhythm of light novels, or what the market wants. The more detail you pile on, the more bloated it feels."
"In short, it has no value as a publishable work."
Splash.
The words drenched her like a bucket of cold water.
Utaha had been so confident, expecting praise—maybe even to stun him into awe.
Instead, he tore it apart.
No publishing value?
Her brows knit tight, lips trembling. Her wine-red eyes blazed with disbelief and defiance.
Seiji smirked faintly at the look on her face. "Doesn't seem like you believe ."
"Fine then. Let a professional editor weigh in."
Without waiting for her reply, he picked up his phone and dialed Sonoko Machida.
"…I wasn't doubting you," Utaha whispered, but even she couldn't believe her own voice. Because she had.
Seiji ignored her.
"Hello, Machida-san? It's ."
"Warukawa-sensei! Good morning! What can I do for you?" Her voice ca through bright and cheerful.
Truth be told, ever since she beca Seiji Fujiwara's editor, Sonoko Machida sotis woke up laughing in her sleep.
"I've got a favor. A rookie manuscript landed in my hands. It happens to be in your specialty—school romance. I was hoping you could give it a look."
"A new writer's draft? Of course! It's my honor to help lighten your load, sensei. Send it over anyti!" she replied eagerly.
"Then I'll have her reach out to you?"
"Perfect. Just share my LINE with her."
"Appreciate it, Machida-san."
"Please, no need to thank !"
After a few pleasantries, Seiji hung up and tapped his phone.
Next to him, Utaha had been listening intently. The mont her phone chid, she snatched it up.
On the screen, a contact card popped up: [Sonoko Machida].
"Her LINE," Seiji said evenly, tossing his phone back onto the couch. "You reach out yourself. Be polite."
"Yes." Utaha nodded, a tangle of emotions in her chest.
She hadn't expected him to go this far for her.
Not only agreeing to look at her draft, but also arranging a direct review from the chief editor herself. That was treatnt reserved for veteran authors.
"…Thank you."
She muttered it softly, clearly unused to the words, then scurried off in embarrassnt.
Seiji watched her retreat, chuckling under his breath before returning to his phone.
Machida will tell her the sa thing I did. That story doesn't et market standards.
But knowing Utaha's stubborn streak, she won't let go until she crashes and burns.
He shook his head. Let her learn the hard way.
In the study, Utaha nervously added Sonoko Machida on LINE.
Her request was approved instantly.
After a quick pause to compose herself, she typed:
[Hello, Chief Editor Machida. I'm Utaha Kasumigaoka. Seiji-kun referred to you. Sorry for intruding.]
The reply ca at once:
[Hello, Kasumigaoka-san. Warukawa-sensei already ntioned it. Please send your manuscript to my work email: [email protected]. I'll review it as soon as I can.]
Utaha wasted no ti booting up her laptop.
She attached the digital file of Love trono and sent it off.
anwhile, in the chief editor's office at Fushikawa Bunko—
Sonoko Machida opened the email, seeing the submission: Love trono, by Utaha Kasumigaoka.
"Oh? So this is Warukawa-sensei's beautiful little girlfriend…" she murmured, downloading the file.
"Well, if she's Warukawa-sensei's girlfriend, I'd better take this seriously."
She began to read.
As a top-class editor, her reading speed was lightning-fast.
But the further she went, the duller her expression beca.
"So the teacher's girlfriend… doesn't really have a knack for light novels."
Normally, she'd have dropped it after the shaky opening.
But because it was Warukawa-sensei's girlfriend, she forced herself to finish.
Half an hour later, she set the stack aside, massaging her temples.
Picking up her phone, she dialed Utaha.
"Hello… Machida-san?"
"It's , Kasumigaoka-san," ca the editor's kind, steady tone. "I finished reading Love trono."
"H-how was it?" Utaha's voice quivered with tension.
"Well…" Machida paused, then gave an opening eerily similar to Seiji's. "First of all, your prose is excellent. Your emotional detail is very delicate. No doubt about that."
A spark of hope lit in Utaha's eyes.
"But…" The dreaded word again. "The problems are obvious. Your story doesn't feel like a light novel. The long inner monologues, the heavy scenery descriptions, the lack of conflict—it drags. Readers will lose patience."
"To put it plainly," Machida concluded, "it's not a comrcially viable light novel."
Ugh.
The verdict gutted her.
"So… in other words… it's worthless?" she asked hollowly.
"No, of course not!" Machida quickly added, worried she'd been too harsh. "Kasumigaoka-san, you have trendous potential. You just need to adjust your direction. With your talent, if you study the market more carefully, I'm certain you can produce a bestseller!"
After all, she couldn't very well crush Warukawa-sensei's girlfriend outright. So she ladled on the encouragent.
Flattery, when skillfully applied, could make even garbage sound golden.
"Don't be discouraged, Kasumigaoka-san. Believe in yourself!"
"Yes! Thank you so much, Machida-san!"
Utaha hung up glowing, her spirits rekindled.
It's not that my work is bad—it just doesn't fit Fushikawa's style!
If I find the right platform, soone will definitely recognize its worth!
She jumped back onto her laptop, scouring calls for submissions.
Soon, one caught her eye: a contest at Kadokawa Bunko.
[Requirents: … especially seeking works with outstanding prose that break away from conventional tropes.]
Reading the note at the bottom, Utaha's lips curved in delight.
This is perfect for !
Beaming, she submitted Love trono to the listed email.
When she erged from the study, her whole face radiated confidence and light.
"…What's with that look?" Seiji blinked.
No way. Did Machida actually accept it?
In the original story, the only reason Love trono got published at all was because of Utaha's age and looks—an editor saw marketing potential in a "beautiful high school girl author." Even then, it still tanked.
"Machida-san said my manuscript has plenty of strengths. As long as I find the right platform, I'll definitely make my debut." Utaha's calm, self-assured smile made it sound like gospel.
"…"
Seiji's lips twitched. That sounded suspiciously like empty encouragent.
Well, he'd confirm with Machida later.
But right now, watching Utaha glowing with self-confidence stirred sothing primal in him. It had been a while since she looked so alive.
He stood, scooping her up suddenly.
"Ah! What are you doing?!" Utaha yelped.
"Submissions can wait." Seiji's grin turned wicked as he carried her toward the bedroom. "First, fulfill your duties as my maid."
"No… I still need to revise—"
"No revisions. It won't pass anyway." He silenced her protests with a kiss, cutting off her words.
"Mmph—! Seiji Fujiwara, you bastard—!"
At Kadokawa Bunko's editorial office—
A young editor adjusted his black-rimd glasses and opened the next submission.
[Title: Love trono]
[Author: Shiko Kasumi]
"Oh? A romance?" he muttered, unimpressed. "But that title doesn't sound like a light novel at all."
Ten minutes later—
"Pffft—!" He nearly spat his coffee all over the screen.
"What the hell is this?! The whole thing reeks! Nothing but endless whining inner monologues. The leads talk for ten chapters and don't even hold hands?!"
"Where did this lodramatic wannabe co from?"
With a scowl, he dragged the file straight into [Round One: Rejected].
"Unqualified."
User Comments
0 comments from readers