The following morning, before the sun even rose behind the buildings, the final numbers for the third chapter of 'Ao Haru Ride' were released.
The website system loaded slowly, as if building suspense. When it was finally updated, the overall score remained identical to the previous day: the ranking remained unchanged, but the number of reader votes rose to 4233, maintaining its third position.
The difference to 'Summer Fireworks', which the previous week was over a thousand votes, had now shrunk to less than a hundred.
A close victory. Almost like a coin spinning in the air, undecided on which side to land on.
As for 'The Light of Yesterday's Stars', the ranking remained unchanged, but the number of reader votes was better than expected, reaching 2436. Initially, it was believed that it would rank fifth in the magazine, but the final count showed that it came in fourth.
It was one of those moves that changed the game board without needing to knock over any pieces with noise. And those who understood literary magazines knew where it came from: it wasn't just organic growth. It was a migration. Fans of other series, tired of plots that had lost steam, had "deserted" and started voting for the two newcomers.
As a result, the other works in the magazine had fallen a little. Not much, but enough to make room. And that was enough for 'The Light of Yesterday's Stars', with "only" two thousand and some votes, to climb another position.
After three weeks of serialization of 'Ao Haru Ride', the magazine's landscape changed drastically.
The novels that previously occupied third and fourth place are now in fifth and sixth. And the new occupants weren't veterans with decades of experience; they were, officially, "newcomers" to the publisher's catalog.
In Minami, at the modern Red Violet Literature building, the effect of that jump felt like a subtle tremor in the ground: it didn't knock down walls, but it made everyone grip their coffee cups tighter.
The authors of the novels that occupied first and second place, 'The Day of Farewell' and 'Summer Fireworks', now find themselves in a delicate situation. It was the kind of call that came with a polite smile and serious eyes.
After joining Red Violet Literature, they were immediately summoned to a serious meeting by the editors to discuss the content, plot, and future of their works.
They can no longer continue serial publication as usual. In the near future, both novels need to experience a dramatic climax to stabilize their popularity and avoid being overtaken by the two imminent competitors.
Ranking in a serialized romance magazine is not so simple.
If a novel ranks well in a magazine's serialization polls, it will first be prominently featured on the magazine's cover, with its title and character illustrations taking center stage.
In addition, advertising posters throughout the province will also display the magazine's most popular novel.
And there was the point that no author liked to say aloud, but everyone understood: adaptation.
When an animation studio, a drama production company, a game company, or an audio drama company was considering what was worth investing in, the first filter wasn't "is this good?". It was "does this sell?".
If other publishers are interested in adapting the work, they will prioritize the novel's performance during its serialization period before making an offer.
Performance during serialization served as a barometer, and the value of any rights proposal, whether it was the potential for radio dramas, licenses, contracts, audiobooks, anthologies, would rise or fall according to that barometer.
If these two novels are overshadowed by 'Ao Haru Ride', the loss of these resources will reduce their reach, impacting factors such as audiobook distribution, potential copyright sales, and individual copy sales.
Ultimately, what was at stake had a simple name, impossible to romanticize: money.
Meanwhile, miles away, at a school on the other side of the Minami region, Ren Yamamoto faced the world with the concentration of someone who had decided to ignore everything else.
To keep up with the novel's publication schedule, Ren had already begun writing the manuscript by hand during class. As long as he was a bad student and didn't cause trouble, the teachers didn't care about his behavior.
He was hunched over his notebook, writing by hand as if he had a deadline to save his own life. The letters came out quickly, with erasures, arrows, and corrections in the middle of sentences.
He needed to keep up with the pace of what was being published.
Serialization waited for no one. The magazine came out on a set date, the review team had a fixed window, and anything that didn't arrive on time became a delay, and delay, there, was a sin.
In the beginning, Ren still tried to "be a student" and "be a writer" at separate times. Now it was no longer possible. He had accepted reality: he would do what he could wherever he could, including inside the classroom.
The professor said nothing. Ren was the type who got average grades, didn't draw attention, didn't cause trouble. For a professor with thirty students and an impossible schedule, this was the equivalent of useful invisibility.
As for Shiori… She observed the board with her eyes fixed ahead, but her mind was elsewhere.
Although her gaze was fixed on the math professor explaining the differentiation of double integrals on the blackboard, it was very simple, and her mind was already wandering. And when her brain was free, it did what it always did: it returned to what mattered.
The previous night, for example. She began to think about how to quickly surpass Ren in both publishing the novel and playing video games.
Shiori hated losing, not in an explosive way, screaming or throwing the controller away. Hers was a silent, sharp hatred that turned into an obsession.
In her mind, the competition had two fronts: the novel Ren was writing, chapter after chapter, and the game in which he mercilessly defeated her. She wanted to beat him in both.
And the more Ren grew, the more her desire turned into a need. It wasn't just pride. It was as if her own identity was being challenged by a boy who, until recently, was just "the quiet guy."
When the teacher called her attention, she looked up and answered perfectly, without hesitation, as if she had been present the whole time. The teacher nodded, satisfied. The room breathed again.
On Friday, Ren received the first payment for his manuscript. He opened the bank app and stared at the number as if it were a mirage.
More than six thousand yen. That was his first income; it was the first time he had received money for something he had created from scratch.
It's one thing for someone to say, "Your text is good." It's quite another for the world to place value on it. Ren exhaled slowly and, without realizing it, was smiling.
Today, he was going to Miyuki's house to deliver the completed novel.
However, before leaving, he bought a box of expensive imported fruit at a supermarket near her house.
He knew what he was doing. It wasn't to impress Miyuki, nor to repay a "debt" with a gift. It was a simple gesture: not to always show up empty-handed.
When he didn't have money, it was fine, life was what it was. But receiving his first paycheck and still acting as if he couldn't spend a penny didn't suit him.
The meeting went smoothly, and the novel manuscript was successfully delivered.
"You seem happy," she commented, seeing the box of fruit. "What's this?"
"My first payment," he said. "And this here is… a little proof that I'm not an incurable miser."
Miyuki raised an eyebrow, took the box, examined it as if evaluating an important document, and finally let out a "hmmm" of approval. They sat at the low table in the room, with the manuscript open. Miyuki scanned the page, asked questions about passages, pointed out small inconsistencies, and requested clarity in certain transitions.
He handed over the text, and it was accepted.
Then, the next hour playing video games, she defeated Shiori a dozen times.
Miyuki maintained a certain neutrality when receiving the two, but anyone with eyes could see: the atmosphere changed when Shiori appeared. Her posture was impeccable, her hair carefully tied back, her expression beautiful and controlled, as if she were always the best version of herself.
But that crumbled the moment a game controller fell into her hands and a layer of resentment clouded her delicate and beautiful face again.
The three settled on the floor in front of the television. The game was competitive, fast-paced, demanding reflexes and reading of the opponent. Shiori entered with an almost military seriousness. Ren, on the other hand, played as if he were having fun.
Each defeat made Shiori's mouth a millimeter tighter, her eyes a little more moist, as if anger were pushing tears to the brim, but she refused to allow it.
"Again," she said, when she lost another.
"Are you sure?" Ren teased, without conscious malice. "I can stop if you want to rest."
"Again."
He won a few more. And at a certain point, Shiori gripped the controller too tightly.
Miyuki couldn't take it anymore and forcibly confiscated the console, throwing them both out of her house.
"That's enough," she said, standing up. She snatched the console from their hands like a mother tired of watching children fight and pointed to the door.
"You're leaving. Both of you. Now."
Shiori opened her mouth to retort, but couldn't. She just remained with that expression of utter injustice, as if the universe conspired to favor Ren.
They left the building, and Ren felt the cold night air hit his face.
Friday had ended strangely: simple, almost ordinary, but with a different weight in his pocket and heart. The world had given him the first concrete confirmation: writing could, in fact, change lives.
On Sunday, the fourth chapter of 'Ao Haru Ride' was published in 'Momentary Blossoms' magazine.
The plot of this chapter consisted mainly of some everyday conversations between the male and female protagonists, and some subtle descriptions of the relationships between Kou, Yuri, and Futaba.
Nothing was explicitly stated. Almost nothing was said aloud. However, in novels, sometimes what changes everything is a glance described in half a paragraph, a pause, a sentence that ends too soon.
The audience is usually perceptive; often, authors only need to provide a small, insignificant clue for the author's intention to be accurately discerned.
On the Red Violet Literature website forum, reactions poured in.
"I have a feeling Yuri is going to become… the third person between Futaba and Kou."
"Damn, this plot is making me a little uncomfortable. Yuri and Futaba have such a good relationship! Having read this novel so far, I feel that both narrative lines, Yuri's friendship and Kou's love, are equally engaging. Now, it seems that the author of 'Mizuki Ito' really intends for Yuri to like Kou; just thinking about it makes the plot agonizing."
"Friendship or love? Is that why 'Mizuki Ito' created Yuri?"
"It seems that if this plot isn't well developed, the romance… will fall apart! If the protagonist, Futaba, abandons friendship for love, readers will criticize her for disloyalty. But if she abandons love for friendship, another group of readers will criticize her as a foolish saint. Why build a story like this?"
"Love triangles are a common cliché in romance novels. But a love triangle between the protagonist's best friend, who is completely innocent, and the protagonist... It seems unsolvable. No matter how you write it, there will always be problems."
"Sigh, let's trust the author. If she dares to write like this, there must be an exciting plot waiting for us."
"Never mind, let's vote for her first."
The chapter had been "calm," but its effect was the opposite. It put the audience on alert, as if the story was about to open a door that no one was sure they wanted to go through.
And, for the ranking, that was fuel.
On Monday, at the main building of Red Violet Literature in Minami, the weekly meeting took place. Basically, the meeting served to announce the sales figures of the publisher's various periodicals in the last week and the performance of some outstanding works.
That week, the focus, in addition to the flagship Red Violet works, fell heavily on two series in particular: 'Ao Haru Ride' and 'The Light of Yesterday's Stars'.
A staff member read aloud during the meeting.
"The rankings for 'The Light of Yesterday's Stars' show that, after four volumes, the thirteen novels in 'Momentary Blossoms' have a rating of 4, 4, 4, and 3, respectively. Reader votes on the website rate them 7, 5, 4, and 4. For a new light novel author, the serialization performance is the second best among all new authors contracted by Red Violet Literature in recent years."
A few murmurs arose. Such praise, in an environment where the company used to be restrained, was almost a trophy.
The staff member moved on to the next part.
"Regarding the works of new authors contracted by Red Violet Literature in recent years, the best-performing is 'Ao Haru Ride,' which was published in four volumes. In 'Momentary Blossoms,' the thirteen novels have a ranking of 1, 1, 1, and 1, respectively."
"The voting ranking is 4, 3, 3, and 2. Furthermore, this novel is gaining popularity in the Southern Province. The number of fan letters received by the publisher about 'Ao Haru Ride' has surpassed that of 'The Day of Farewell,' currently the most popular work in 'Momentary Blossoms.'"
When this sentence fell into the air, the room changed. The rustling of papers stopped. The sound of pens ceased. Even the air seemed denser for a moment. This data caused quite a stir among the editorial staff.
"Already in second place in the voting? So quickly?"
"Are you kidding? 'Summer Fireworks' lost like that? It was published for six months, amassed so many fans, and yet it couldn't compete with 'Ao Haru Ride,' which was published so recently, in terms of fan support?"
"That's too fast, it's hard to accept. Our publisher thinks we've never had such a talented debut."
The meeting room filled with whispers. The staff member reading the manuscript continued. His tone was neutral, but at the same time he was holding back his emotions.
"Given the excellent performance of both novels, after joint discussion between the editorial department and other departments of the company, it has been decided that the first volumes of 'Ao Haru Ride' and 'The Light of Yesterday's Stars' will be officially released before next month."
After the announcement of the decision, the meeting room suddenly fell silent.
Everyone expected, at some point, that both series would get collected volumes. But "by next month" was too soon. Too fast. A clear sign that the company wanted to ride the wave before it changed direction.
At the back of the room, someone swallowed hard. Another person jotted something down more forcefully than necessary. An editor closed the report as if closing a door.
At that moment, it became obvious to everyone: it wasn't just a battle for positions on the leaderboard. It was the beginning of a new phase.
And somewhere in Minami, a student was scribbling chapters by hand in a notebook, unaware that what he was writing in the silence of the classroom was beginning to shake up an entire structure.
The chessboard had completely shifted.
End of Chapter 27