He picked up his phone and dialed the number left in the email for Sonoko Machida.
…
Fushikawa Bunko, Editing Department 3.
Sonoko Machida sat rigid at her desk, hands resting on the tabletop, back perfectly straight, her eyes fixed on the phone before her.
She was waiting.
Waiting for Prince Warakawa to call back.
Seconds bled into minutes.
Her palms had already broken into a sheen of sweat.
Her heart thumped wildly with unease.
Her mind replayed that afternoon when she'd brushed off that boy with a formulaic smile.
*What if… what if he sensed my indifference, and because of it, he soured on Fushikawa Bunko?*
The mere possibility made her chest seize in panic.
*No! Absolutely not!*
This author was *her* discovery.
This was the biggest opportunity of her entire career.
There was no way she was going to let him slip through her fingers.
Bzzz—!
Her phone suddenly vibrated across the desk.
The screen lit up with an unfamiliar number.
Sonoko froze, breath caught in her throat.
She fumbled for the phone, her hands clumsy with nerves, and after several slips finally managed to swipe the answer button.
"Y-Yes! Hello! Is this Prince Warakawa-sensei?!"
Her voice trembled with a mix of excitement and dread.
"It's me."
A calm voice, tinged with amusement, came through the receiver.
Those two words alone were enough to ease half the weight on her heart.
Thank goodness.
"Sensei! I'm Sonoko Machida from Fushikawa Bunko!" She spoke at a breakneck pace, breathless with excitement. "It's such an honor! Your manuscript… your manuscript is the novel of the year!"
"In my ten years in this industry, I've never seen anything so good."
"And your age—it's unbelievable!"
She poured out her praise in an unending rush.
On the other end, Seiji Fujiwara listened quietly.
He almost laughed.
Editor Machida, wasn't this a little too over the top?
But then he thought about it, and it made perfect sense.
The manuscript he'd submitted was the very definition of flawless. For an overworked wage slave editor like Sonoko, this was a career-defining miracle that had fallen straight from the sky. Of course she'd cling to it for dear life.
He let her words wash over him, his heart steady, like an old well untouched by ripples.
When she finally paused for breath, he chuckled lightly and cut in:
"How about this? Tomorrow at ten in the morning, I'll come to Fushikawa Bunko headquarters to sign the contract."
"Yes! Of course, no problem at all!" Sonoko bobbed her head like a woodpecker. "Would you like us to send a car? And if you have any specific requests about the contract terms, please don't hesitate to ask! We'll do our absolute best to meet every condition!"
Her tone was nothing like the confident editor-in-chief she was supposed to be. She sounded more like a hotel clerk terrified of offending an important guest.
"You're far too polite, Editor Machida. I'll come on my own," Seiji replied, amused, brushing off the offer.
They exchanged a few more words before hanging up.
Beep… beep… beep…
Sonoko let out a long sigh of relief, sagging back in her chair.
Thank God.
He was coming to sign.
The genius who'd fallen into her lap—she'd secured him.
She clenched her fists, already seeing the editor-in-chief's seat beckoning her forward.
And then…
The silence around her sank in.
She raised her head and found her colleagues staring at her like she'd just descended from another planet.
Only then did she realize how ridiculous she must've looked.
But she didn't care.
So what if she'd gone overboard?
If any of them had landed a genius like this, they'd be twice as desperate to please.
…
…
The next day, 9:50 a.m.
Seiji Fujiwara arrived at the Fushikawa Bunko headquarters building.
He wore the same simple white shirt and jeans as always. Against the sleek, high-class corporate environment, his outfit looked completely out of place.
Yet standing there casually, he radiated an effortless composure that drew the attention of several passing office women.
"Right on time," he muttered as he stepped into the lobby.
This time, he didn't head for the anonymous submissions desk. Instead, he approached the main reception counter.
"Good morning. How can I help you?"
The receptionist, a young woman with a practiced, professional smile, greeted him warmly.
Her eyes flicked over his plain clothes and youthful face, and though her smile didn't falter, a flicker of doubt passed beneath it.
An unfamiliar face.
Probably just a student here to visit or gawk.
"My name is Prince Warakawa. I have an appointment with Editor Sonoko Machida from Department 3." Seiji kept his expression even, though saying his pen name out loud always felt a little embarrassing.
"Prince Warakawa…"
The receptionist didn't so much as blink.
Years on the job had given her a high tolerance for the overblown pen names light novel authors loved.
The name tickled at her memory, but she couldn't place it.
As she entered his information into the visitor system, she said in her sweetest professional tone: "Yes, Warakawa-sensei, I see your appointment here. Please sign in on this guest log, then wait in the lounge for a moment while I contact Editor Machida."
Standard procedure.
But just as Seiji reached for the pen—
Ding!
The exclusive elevator to the upper floors opened with a chime.
A sharp staccato of high heels echoed rapidly across the marble floor, drawing every pair of eyes in the lobby.
"Warakawa-sensei!"
The cry rang out as Sonoko Machida—known throughout Fushikawa Bunko as the untouchable "ice queen"—came barreling out of the elevator in black stilettos.
Her sleek black hair whipped loose strands across her face.
Her usually flawless, composed features were flushed red, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. All the elegance and aloofness she was famous for had completely collapsed under her urgency.
Gasps spread through the lobby.
Without slowing, Sonoko charged straight toward Seiji and skidded to a halt one step in front of him.
And then—
Whoosh!
She bent at the waist, her hands pressed tight to her thighs, bowing a full ninety degrees before him.