That morning's meeting at the publisher's headquarters had been longer than usual, and Miyuki left the meeting room with the same kind of weariness that accumulated on her shoulders after spending hours discussing things that didn't even have a date yet.
There was one topic in particular that dominated much of the conversation: the internal project nicknamed "The Rise of the New God," a large-scale campaign that, if everything went according to the directors' plan, would be launched in six months to celebrate the new generation of authors and put some names in the spotlight.
Miyuki, however, said nothing about it when she later met Shiori and Ren. It's something that will happen in six months; discussing it now is pointless.
At the pace of a weekly serialization, six months was an ocean. Until then, a work could grow, falter, be overtaken by trends, or become an unexpected success because of a detail that no one had foreseen.
However, it's good that the publisher is willing to allocate some resources to Ren and Shiori. For any editor, it was hard not to feel a sense of relief when the company's top management finally looked at a project and said, in no uncertain terms, "it's worth a shot."
In fact, the success of serialized novels often doesn't depend solely on the quality of the work itself; factors like capital and platform also play a significant role.
Miyuki knew this. For example, when she read the first three chapters of Ren's novel, she felt that the quality of "Ao Haru Ride" surpassed most of the serialized novels in "Red Violet." After reading the manuscript of chapters seven and eight, she concluded that it was far superior to all the serialized novels in the magazine.
Many people liked to believe that the performance of a story in chapters was a kind of fair trial, where the quality of the text decided everything. But the real world was less romantic.
Of course, this was just her personal opinion. However, her instinct for the market was remarkably sharp. In Miyuki's world, "Ao Haru Ride" was a top-tier work among Japanese romance anime.
And it wasn't just a sensation. The work had a successful structure. It had vibrant characters, youthful conflicts that seemed absurd to adults and, at the same time, absolutely real to those of that age. It had a clean atmosphere, a delicacy in the simplest scenes, and a frankness in the scenes of pain, that frankness that made the reader think, "This happened to me," even if it had never happened exactly that way.
The original manga was popular, the anime received high ratings and achieved great popularity, and was even adapted into a film.
It was an excellent and mature work, with considerable commercial value.
But, unfortunately, serializing it in 'Momentary Blossoms' predetermined the maximum limit of the romance; its fanbase and influence would be limited by the magazine's sales.
The periodical in which 'Ao Haru Ride' and 'The Light of Yesterday's Stars' appeared had a loyal audience, yes, but a limited one. It wasn't a magazine with a monstrous circulation, nor a digital platform with infinite reach. Even if each copy circulated through the classroom, passed from hand to hand, was borrowed from the school library and discussed in the hallway, there was still a glass ceiling above the stories.
A magazine with only 300,000 readers willing to buy it, even considering circulation through friends, is it possible for this novel to suddenly gain a million fans?
Of course not. This is the limitation and restriction that external factors, such as insufficient capital and platforms, impose on an excellent work.
Miyuki faced this as a fact. And that's where the "mechanism" came into play. Now, this novel is preparing to be published as an independent book.
"Perhaps, free from the restrictions of a romance magazine, 'Ao Haru Ride' will perform better in the independent publishing market," Miyuki thought, observing the city buildings.
For Ren, however, the world followed such a simple routine that it seemed repetitive.
Get up, shower, go to school, come home, and then write novels in class and at home. This has become Ren's daily routine this semester, a rather monotonous one.
Sometimes, Ren wondered if this was how "real" authors lived. No inspiration blowing from the sky, no magical scenes. Just hours and hours of silent work, with the sound of the keyboard as company.
The difference was that, since 'Ao Haru Ride' began serialization, the work had been rewarded in a way he didn't know.
But royalties are paid twice a week, which rekindled Ren's thirsty spirit.
Before the semester began, he was still worried about how to pay the bills. Now, a little over a month into the semester, he already had almost 20,000 yen in assets, and the pressure on his mind had finally decreased considerably.
Even if he were forced to move out of his current apartment tomorrow, considering the unpaid royalties, that amount would be enough to cover all his expenses for the next year and a half of high school.
This didn't solve all the problems. But it solved the main one: the constant fear of collapsing due to lack of money.
In the beginning, 'Ao Haru Ride' and 'The Light of Yesterday's Stars' were just titles in a magazine that some students read. Ren would sometimes overhear a casual conversation in the hallway: "Did you see yesterday's chapter?" and walk past, trying to pretend it wasn't about him.
But as the weeks went by, the number of readers within the school grew in an almost visible way.
He no longer heard "occasionally." He listened the whole time.
The tedious morning ended, and during lunch break, after eating in the cafeteria, Ren returned to the classroom to rest.
Lunchtime at that school had a peculiar silence. Some students slept with their heads on their arms, others fiddled with their phones in secret, some talked quietly. The sun streamed through the windows, making the air warm.
Ren lay down on the table and closed his eyes, determined to nap for at least ten minutes.
But before he could even rest for five minutes, the shocked discussions between the girls in his class erupted.
"Seriously? Look, what does the cover of this edition of 'Momentary Blossoms' say?"
"Seriously? What does the cover of this edition say??"
"Daiki Watanabe, a genius of young adult literature from Minami High School, and Mizuki Ito."
"Let me see!"
"What does that mean?"
Some girls went to the bookstore near the school gate during lunch break to buy the latest issue of 'Momentary Blossoms', but were shocked by the cover.
"Look what it says here!" one of them said, her voice trembling with excitement.
The cover of the new issue of the magazine featured a colorful illustration: the protagonists of 'Ao Haru Ride' and 'The Light of Yesterday's Stars' prominently displayed, as if they had been promoted to stars of the issue.
But the most important thing was the accompanying text.
"Does this mean that Mizuki Ito, the author of 'Ao Haru Ride', and Daiki Watanabe, the author of 'The Light of Yesterday's Stars', are from our school?"
When one of the girls said this, immediately, most of the boys and girls in the class turned to look in her direction.
Perhaps not everyone was interested in 'Momentary Blossoms' magazine. But absolutely everyone was interested in gossip. Two light novel authors have emerged among the students of this very school? This kind of news is very interesting for students.
The class immediately began to discuss it.
"Does this mean they study here?"
"Like… right here? At this school?"
"Seriously? Who are they?!"
Half the students probably didn't even care about the newspaper. But the word "genius" combined with "student from our school" was irresistible. The gossip had the perfect flavor: pride, envy, curiosity, and that feeling that something extraordinary might be hidden behind the routine.
"Let me see."
"That's it? Just say they're from our school and that's it?"
"Damn it, I hate publishers who only tell half the story."
"I can't believe it. A student from here wrote 'Ao Haru Ride'?"
"Huh? That's all? They only said that Mizuki Ito and Daiki Watanabe are students at our school and that their first submission was a success, nothing more?"
"Impossible, absolutely impossible, what class are these geniuses in?"
"Damn, I also enjoy reading novels and even have a passion for writing them. I've tried, but forgot it, sending them to a renowned publisher like Red Violet Literature in the Southern Province, not even those obscure magazines like Story Collection looked at my work. How can these two be so amazing?"
"New high school students, and even my schoolmates, have had their first works accepted by Red Violet Literature… And the results are very good."
The question no one wanted to ask directly hung in the air: if there's someone so good here, why am I not that person?
"Speaking of which, a serialized romance in 'Momentary Blossoms' must have pretty high royalties, right?"
"It depends on popularity, right?"
"I heard that, per chapter, it can vary a lot. If the story is doing well, it pays really well."
"Like how much?"
"If I'm not mistaken, judging by the results, royalties per issue range from just over four thousand yen to twenty thousand yen. Considering four weeks a month and eight serialized issues, the monthly royalties would be at least forty thousand to sixteen thousand yen."
The number hung in the air like a thunderclap.
"Forty thousand a month?!"
"Forty thousand? I'm dizzy! I only get one hundred and fifty yen a month in allowance."
"My father's annual income is only fifty thousand yen."
"Could it be... could there be a student at our school who earns my father's annual salary in one month?"
His classmates, filled with curiosity, discussed the matter with growing enthusiasm.
Ren kept a neutral face. His heart, however, leaped.
That headline on the cover was a bombshell. The publisher had decided to throw the fact in the window. They didn't mention real names, but the school was enough to start the hunt.
He needed to stay calm.
"So, Ren, are you also interested in this kind of news?"
Takeru asked Ren with a smile.
"No, nothing, I was just bored and observing the conversation." Ren gave Takeru a deep look, revealing nothing.
"Oh, come on. This place is huge. Imagine: two famous authors and they study here. Like, right next door."
He leaned towards Ren's desk. "Hey, lately you've been doodling something in class all the time, could it be…?" he joked.
Ren felt a chill run down his neck.
Takeru pointed at him theatrically: "Don't tell me that… one of those two… is you."
Ren rolled his eyes and laughed. He put on a face of absolute tranquility, raised his hand like an actor announcing a revelation, and said ironically:
"That's right, I'll confess, I'm the 'high school prodigy writer Mizuki Ito' advertised in that magazine. What, you're a fan of my book?"
Takeru's eyes widened for a split second and then he burst into laughter.
"Get out of here, are you 'Mizuki'? You just casually mentioned it and admitted it without any shame. Do you think that's worthy? The person who wrote this novel must be a rare beauty. The incredibly realistic description of how Futaba and Kou were isolated and envied by everyone around them for being too beautiful, could a mere mortal like you write that?" Takeru's eyes gleamed.
He patted Ren on the shoulder.
"You have courage, I acknowledge that. But you? Mizuki Ito? Not a chance."
Ren exhaled slowly, relieved inside. Takeru, still laughing, continued, now with that typical conviction of someone who has already built a perfect theory based on zero evidence:
"If you ask me, only someone like Shiori Haruki could understand the pain of being isolated for being too exceptional. Hmm, now that you mention it, 'Mizuki' might actually be her."
"(Sigh), never mind, her family is so rich, how could she care about the measly royalties of a few tens of thousands of yen for writing a novel?"
He narrowed his eyes, as if seeing beyond the walls.
"I bet Mizuki Ito is a girl. A beautiful girl, like those characters everyone envies and isolates themselves because of."
Ren almost choked. He seemed to be making unfounded assumptions, but in fact, his conjectures were quite accurate.
"Now that you mention it, it seems you've read 'Ao Haru Ride.' You're a man, and you read that kind of romance novel?" Ren asked curiously, subtly omitting the subject he was discussing with Takeru.
"I saw it by chance." Zhang Yang's expression hardened, the excuse coming out quickly, rehearsed, as if he'd already said it to other people: "My sister likes it, so I know more or less what it's about."
Takeru would never admit that he was also a fan of "Ao Haru Ride." Ren suppressed a smile. There was no need to pressure him. In fact, it was even funny to imagine Takeru hiding that he was a fan of a "girl's story" as if it were a crime.
What happened in Ren's class also happened in other classes at the school, including Shiori's. The magazine had been bought by several students during lunch break at the bookstore near the gate, and a group of students were discussing who Daiki Watanabe was and who Mizuki Ito was.
Shiori, on the other hand, sat alone in a corner near the window, feeling a little self-conscious, but also a little happy. After all, no novelist would be unhappy to hear positive comments about themselves and their work.
The sun shone on the side of her face, drawing a light line on her skin, but she didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were fixed on the void, as if she were looking at the landscape and, at the same time, trapped in a distant thought.
Even if she pretended. Even if she had to hide it. It entered her chest like a silent confirmation: I did it. I wrote it. And someone felt something reading it.
When a girl said, laughing, that 'The Light of Yesterday's Stars' had made her cry secretly in the bathroom, Shiori had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.
She didn't want to be discovered.
But she desperately wanted the story to be loved. And that day, the whole school was talking about stories.
These events at the High School didn't directly affect fans in other regions. Many were surprised to discover that the two authors were high school students. Some found it inspiring. Others were suspicious. Some said it was a marketing ploy: "putting 'teenage geniuses' on the cover sells more," and perhaps it did.
But for regular fans, the focus was more on the novel's plot.
The release of Chapter 5 of 'Ao Haru Ride' generated a much stronger response from fans than the previous four chapters.
Until then, the story had been delicately building the relationship between Futaba and Kou. But adolescence was precisely the territory where things blossomed and were plucked before they could bloom.
The release of Chapter 5 of 'Ao Haru Ride' generated a much stronger response from fans than the previous four chapters.
This is because the content of this chapter was quite clear. A third person had decisively entered the relationship between Futaba and Kou:
It was Yuri, Futaba's classmate, close friend, someone who had always been there for support. Someone who suddenly appeared in the narrative with a different shadow, with a kind of presence that changed the atmosphere.
This chapter was exciting and captivating, but it also stirred the emotions of the readers.
The discussions escalated more than in any previous chapter. There were people defending Yuri with "she's human, she also has feelings"; and people hating: "friendship has limits, this is betrayal," and there was, above all, a mass of readers desperate for what would come next.
Because the chapter wasn't just about the triangle itself.
It was about how Ren wrote Yuri's entrance into the story: not as a caricatured villain, not as a cheap obstacle, but as someone whose pain made sense. The kind of pain that made the reader angry and, at the same time, recognize themselves.
This chapter was exciting and captivating, but it also stirred the emotions of the readers.
And, on that day, while the school was buzzing with mystery and the fandom was buzzing with anticipation for a resolution, Ren lowered his head to the table again, pretending he was finally going to sleep.
But now, with the magazine circulating and the cover screaming to the world that the authors were right there, very close, he knew the peace was over. The semester would continue with the same routine.
But, from that moment on, there was something new in the air at the school. And, somewhere between the fear of being discovered and the strange satisfaction of seeing his work come to life, Ren understood that the next chapter didn't just exist on paper.
It had already begun to be written in the real world.
End of Chapter 29