Chapter 124: The Empty Chair

Chapter 124: Chapter 124: The Empty Chair

The emergency meeting began at 2:03 PM.

Three minutes late.

Which immediately worried everyone.

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Important meetings started on time.

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Disasters started late.

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Haruki arrived to find the conference room already occupied.

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Mizuno.

Suzune.

Rika.

Nakamura.

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Three creators.

Two marketing managers.

One increasingly stressed project coordinator.

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And one empty chair.

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Hoshino Arata’s chair.

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The absence dominated the room.

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Not because of symbolism.

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Because everybody kept looking at it.

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The coordinator cleared his throat.

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Then failed immediately.

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A poor start.

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A very poor start.

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Finally Rika took control.

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As usual.

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"We have a problem."

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Direct.

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Efficient.

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Dangerous.

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The heiress tapped a document.

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Arata’s withdrawal notice appeared on the main screen.

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Formal.

Professional.

Short.

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No explanation.

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That bothered everyone.

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A creator withdrawing happened.

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Life happened.

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Schedules changed.

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The lack of explanation felt wrong.

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Very wrong.

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Across the table, Aoi Kisaragi sat quietly.

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Not happy.

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Not angry.

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Thinking.

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A dangerous state for intelligent people.

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Sora arrived moments later.

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Coffee in hand.

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Entirely too relaxed.

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The creator sat down.

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Looked around.

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Then asked:

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"Did somebody die?"

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Nobody laughed.

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Sora slowly lowered the coffee.

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"Ah."

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The meeting continued.

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The project coordinator explained the situation.

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Arata wasn’t just a participant.

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He was a cornerstone.

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Several sponsors specifically requested him.

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Two media interviews centered around him.

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One publisher joined because he joined.

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The numbers looked ugly.

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Not catastrophic.

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Ugly.

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Haruki listened carefully.

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Then noticed something.

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Nobody sounded angry.

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Concerned.

Confused.

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Not angry.

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The distinction mattered.

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No.

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The distinction changed everything.

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Better.

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Because people trusted Arata.

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Which meant nobody assumed selfishness.

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Nobody assumed betrayal.

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That fact alone said a lot.

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At three o’clock, the meeting temporarily paused.

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Phone calls.

Emails.

Damage control.

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Industry survival rituals.

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Haruki stepped into the hallway.

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The building felt quieter outside the conference room.

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For exactly seven seconds.

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Then Suzune appeared.

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Naturally.

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No.

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Still banned.

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The assistant editor carried three folders.

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Two coffees.

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And visible irritation.

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An impressive combination.

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She handed him one coffee.

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Then asked:

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"What are you thinking?"

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Dangerous question.

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Haruki considered lying.

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Didn’t.

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"Something doesn’t fit."

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Suzune nodded immediately.

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Because she felt it too.

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"Arata?"

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"Yeah."

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A pause.

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"He doesn’t seem like the type."

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The assistant editor leaned against the wall.

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Then surprised him.

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"I called three editors."

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Haruki looked over.

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Suzune continued.

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"None of them are worried about his professionalism."

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Another pause.

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"They’re worried about him."

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The statement lingered.

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Because it reinforced the same pattern.

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Nobody thought Arata caused the problem.

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Everyone thought something happened to him.

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At four-thirty, the answer finally arrived.

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Not from Arata.

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From a publisher.

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The room reconvened.

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The coordinator entered carrying a fresh report.

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His expression looked complicated.

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Never a good sign.

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The report hit the table.

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Several pages scattered.

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Nobody complained.

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Everyone read.

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Silence followed.

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Real silence.

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The report contained one sentence that mattered.

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Hoshino Arata rejected a major adaptation contract yesterday.

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Haruki blinked.

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Then reread it.

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Aoi frowned.

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Sora stopped smiling.

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Rika immediately reached for a pen.

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Because everybody understood the implications.

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A major adaptation.

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Money.

Recognition.

Influence.

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Creators dreamed about opportunities like that.

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Arata walked away.

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Voluntarily.

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The room filled with questions.

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No answers.

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Only questions.

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Why?

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Why now?

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Why withdraw?

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Why disappear?

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The discussion became chaotic.

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Not dramatically chaotic.

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Professionally chaotic.

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Publishers argued.

Creators speculated.

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Haruki stayed quiet.

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Listening.

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Watching.

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Thinking.

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Then somebody entered the room.

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Unexpectedly.

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A woman.

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Mid-twenties.

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Sharp suit.

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Confident posture.

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Haruki recognized her immediately.

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The train station woman.

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The Ghost Project woman.

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The woman who told him he was making the same mistake as someone else.

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Several people looked confused.

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Haruki looked alarmed.

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A meaningful difference.

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The woman ignored everyone else.

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Walked directly toward Rika.

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Then handed over a business card.

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The room waited.

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Confused.

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Silent.

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Then Rika’s expression changed.

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Slightly.

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Enough.

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The heiress looked up.

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Actually surprised.

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A rare event.

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Very rare.

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The woman finally introduced herself.

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"Fujisawa Mei."

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A pause.

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"Talent Management Division."

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Another.

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"Horizon Creative."

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Haruki froze.

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Because Horizon Creative wasn’t Ghost Project.

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It was the company trying to recruit him.

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The room suddenly became much more complicated.

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Mei looked toward the empty chair.

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Then toward the project team.

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Finally:

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"I think I know why Hoshino Arata withdrew."

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Nobody moved.

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Nobody interrupted.

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Because every person in the room immediately understood something important.

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The problem wasn’t over.

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It was only beginning.

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And for the first time since joining the collaboration project, Haruki realized the biggest threat might not be failure.

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It might be success.

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The kind of success that demanded people become something they never wanted to be.