Ryuji Aida.
Editor-in-Chief of Fushikawa Bunko's Editing Departnt 3.
He sat with a pair of thin-rimd reading glasses perched on his nose, leisurely savoring a cup of fine gyokuro tea while reviewing one of the manuscripts he favored for the newcor's award.
"Hm… The Sword Saint Miss Can't Possibly Have a Poor Sense of Direction. The setup's a little fresh, but the prose is still way too raw. The characters just don't stand out."
He set the manuscript down, lifted his pen, and prepared to jot down his evaluation: "Competent but limited potential."
And then—
BANG!
The heavy wooden office door burst open.
The sudden crash made Ryuji Aida jolt. His precious teacup rattled in his hand, splashing droplets across the docunts. He looked up in shock—only to see his subordinate, Sonoko Machida, barging in with a frantic expression.
At that mont, the composed, sharp, intelligent editor he knew had vanished.
Her hair was disheveled, her cheeks flushed crimson, her chest heaving with excitent.
"Chief! A genius! I've found a genius!" She rushed to his desk, lowered her voice, and blurted it out breathlessly.
Ryuji sighed, exasperated.
"Machida, you're losing your composure," he said slowly, with the calm reproach of a superior.
A genius?
Please. Every year the industry "discovered" so-called geniuses. But when you looked back over decades of light novel history, only a handful truly earned the title.
He respected Machida's drive and her eye, but she was still too young. Too easily swayed by flashy tricks—works that dazzled at first glance but had no real foundation.
For her to co charging in like this? Probably just another gimmicky piece.
Ryuji shook his head inwardly.
"Calm down, Machida-kun." He removed his glasses, wiping the lenses with the deliberate patience of an elder lecturing a junior. "The sky isn't falling. Now, tell . What kind of manuscript could make you forget the most basic professionalism of an editor?"
"Chief! Please, just read it! You'll understand once you do!" Machida, deaf to the scolding in his words, all but shoved the manuscript toward him with both hands.
He accepted it reluctantly, his eyes falling on the cover for a brief second. His brows furrowed.
6 Days, 6 People, 6 Guns.
As expected.
Even the title scread out of sync with the market.
Disappointnt welled in his chest.
Still, he opened it without hope.
And in the next mont—
His gaze froze.
Hm? What's with this opening? This atmosphere… this overwhelming tension?
A chill shot through him. He straightened in his seat and kept reading.
Minutes ticked by.
The expression on Ryuji Aida's face transford, fra by fra.
From dismissal—
to puzzlent.
From puzzlent—
to seriousness.
From seriousness—
to gravity.
From gravity—
to sheer awe.
At last, his hands holding the manuscript began to tremble uncontrollably.
Holy shit… this is a masterpiece!
This author's insight into human nature—how could anyone capture it with such terrifying precision?
By the ti he reached the ending, it was as if lightning had struck him. His whole body shuddered, collapsing against the back of his chair.
A long silence followed.
Finally, he surfaced from the ecstasy of being utterly consud by the words.
"Whew…"
He exhaled a heavy breath, as though expelling the shock that had built up over half a lifeti.
Sonoko Machida stood there, eyes wide, waiting.
Then Ryuji Aida moved.
He slowly raised his head. The stiff face, carved by years of stern restraint, lted like thawing ice. A radiant, almost fatherly smile blood.
"Well done, Machida-kun… no—Sonoko-chan!"
His voice carried a warmth so syrupy even he felt embarrassed by it. "You… you're the lucky star of Fushikawa Bunko! Our savior!"
Sonoko froze.
Sonoko-chan?
God. In all her years at the company, she had never once heard the chief address her with such affection.
"C-Chief, you…" She stamred, flustered.
"Brilliant!" Ryuji smacked his thigh, eyes blazing with excitent. The solemn man from monts ago was gone. "Where did you find this? This author—this genius calling himself Prince Warakawa—have you contacted him yet?!"
A second ago, he'd been disappointed. Now he was beaming like the sun.
His face had turned faster than a page in a book.
That was the power of a true masterpiece.
"I… I got his phone number…" Sonoko answered hesitantly, not daring to admit the truth: that the author had approached her first. She hadn't lifted a finger.
"Good! Good! Good!" Ryuji barked three goods in a row. "This author—we have to sign him no matter what it takes!"
"You'll take full responsibility for this. Whatever resources you need, just tell . When it cos ti for publication, HR, accounting, PR—every departnt will give you full support!"
"In short, don't let any other publisher steal him away!"
His burning gaze locked on Sonoko.
The sheer trust in his eyes sent a rush of adrenaline through her. She straightened her back and shouted:
"Yes, Chief!"
"Excellent." Ryuji nodded firmly. Then, without another word, he strode out of his office and raised his voice so the entire floor could hear:
"Everyone! eting room! Now!"
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