Chapter 82: Publisher Politics

Chapter 82: Chapter 82: Publisher Politics

Haruki learned something important during the following week.

Publishers competed harder than creators.

The discovery arrived accidentally.

Yamashita Publishing invited him to lunch.

Three days later, another publisher requested coffee.

Two days after that, a third company proposed an "informal discussion."

Nobody called them recruitment meetings.

Everyone knew exactly what they were.

Mizuno called them sharks.

Haruki thought that felt unfair.

Then he attended the meetings.

The description became increasingly accurate.

The first lunch happened at a restaurant expensive enough to make him nervous.

The kind of place where the menu lacked prices.

A terrible sign.

Across the table sat Editor Nakamura.

Friendly.

Professional.

Dangerous.

The conversation started normally.

Threadless Gate.

Future plans.

Career goals.

Then Nakamura casually mentioned animation.

Not a direct offer.

Not a promise.

A possibility.

The word lingered.

Because possibilities had become the industry’s favorite currency.

Halfway through the meal, another editor approached the table.

Coincidence.

Nobody believed it.

Especially Nakamura.

The newcomer smiled.

"Haruki Amamiya?"

The timing felt surgical.

The introduction lasted less than a minute.

The damage lasted much longer.

Afterward Nakamura sighed.

"They move quickly."

Haruki frowned.

"Who?"

"The others."

No names.

No explanation.

Needed neither.

The competition existed.

Not between creators.

Between companies.

Interesting.

No.

Enough.

The habit remained undefeated.

That evening, Mizuno finally explained the situation.

"You’re a finalist."

A pause.

"You’re growing."

Another.

"You haven’t signed anywhere important."

Then:

"That makes you valuable."

The answer sounded surprisingly simple.

Because it was.

Talent became expensive after success.

Publishers preferred finding people before success arrived.

Haruki leaned back.

"And if I choose wrong?"

The silence lasted longer than expected.

Then Mizuno answered.

"You lose years."

No drama.

No exaggeration.

Just truth.

The statement stayed with him.

Because losing money hurt.

Losing years felt terrifying.

The next day brought another problem.

The system.

Specifically:

Creator Point Debt

Remaining Balance:

182

A new reward appeared beneath it.

Publisher Meeting Bonus

Reward:

100 CP

Debt Collection:

40 CP

Received:

60 CP

Haruki stared.

Then immediately opened the Store.

Current CP:

570

Production Pipeline Manager:

650

Still unavailable.

The debt wasn’t killing him.

The debt was delaying him.

A much more frustrating experience.

The apartment door opened around seven.

Yui arrived later than usual.

Much later.

She looked exhausted.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

Haruki noticed immediately.

"What happened?"

Yui dropped her bag onto a chair.

Then sat down.

Several seconds passed.

"No idea."

That answer worried him more.

Because Yui normally knew.

Work problem?

She knew.

Family problem?

She knew.

Money problem?

She knew.

This time she genuinely looked confused.

Eventually she spoke.

"I think I’m falling behind."

The statement surprised him.

"At work?"

Yui nodded.

The confidence from the interview arc had faded slightly.

Reality arrived.

Training.

Expectations.

Responsibility.

The actual job.

Haruki sat quietly.

Waiting.

Yui continued.

"Everyone else seems to know what they’re doing."

There it was.

The real problem.

Not failure.

Comparison.

A familiar enemy.

Haruki almost offered advice.

Stopped himself.

Instead:

"Do they?"

Yui frowned.

"What?"

"Know what they’re doing."

A pause.

Then:

"Probably."

Haruki laughed.

Actually laughed.

Because the answer sounded exactly like something he would’ve said six months ago.

Yui looked annoyed.

"What?"

Haruki pointed toward himself.

"The creator tournament."

A pause.

"The publisher meetings."

Another.

"The interviews."

Then:

"I spent months assuming everyone else knew more than me."

Yui crossed her arms.

"You still think that."

Fair.

Very fair.

The conversation didn’t solve anything.

Good.

Some problems shouldn’t disappear in one scene.

Instead, Yui stayed.

Ate dinner.

Complained about training paperwork.

Complained about coworkers.

Complained about herself.

The emotional weight eased slightly.

Not because answers appeared.

Because she stopped carrying it alone.

Later that night, Haruki opened Chapter Twenty-One.

Ren finally possessed evidence capable of exposing the Bureau.

The story approached a turning point.

A dangerous one.

Because victories created consequences.

Not rewards.

Consequences.

The lesson applied surprisingly well outside the manga too.

Tournament success created publisher attention.

Publisher attention created pressure.

Pressure created choices.

And choices created risk.

Near midnight, Haruki received a message.

Unknown Number.

The message contained a single line.

Heard you’re meeting publishers.

Don’t get tricked.

— Sora

Haruki stared.

Then frowned.

The message felt helpful.

Which somehow made it more suspicious.

Because people like Sora never seemed worried.

Never seemed threatened.

Never seemed uncomfortable.

The kind of person who walked into every room smiling.

The kind of person Haruki didn’t fully understand.

The phone buzzed again.

Second message.

Seriously.

Read the contracts.

Haruki laughed despite himself.

Maybe Sora wasn’t what he expected.

Or maybe that was exactly what made him dangerous.

Either way, the next phase of his career had already begun.

And for the first time, the competition wasn’t about readers.

It was about decisions.