Chapter 85: The First Offer

Chapter 85: Chapter 85: The First Offer

The first real offer arrived on a Wednesday morning.

Not a discussion.

Not an invitation.

Not a possibility.

An offer.

Actual paperwork.

Haruki realized this because the email attachment was forty-seven pages long.

Nobody wrote forty-seven pages for casual interest.

The subject line contained three words:

Proposal for Representation

Haruki stared at it.

Then closed the email.

Then opened it again.

Then closed it again.

A mature and professional response.

Very mature.

His phone rang before he could continue embarrassing himself.

Mizuno.

"Don’t sign anything."

No greeting.

No congratulations.

Straight to survival instructions.

Haruki leaned back.

"I wasn’t planning to."

"Good."

A pause.

"Because it’s bad."

That got his attention.

"What?"

Mizuno sounded annoyed.

Not at him.

At the document.

A familiar tone.

"The advance is decent."

Another pause.

"The percentages are terrible."

Then:

"They’re betting you’re inexperienced."

The sentence settled heavily.

Not because it was surprising.

Because it wasn’t.

The industry suddenly felt less romantic.

Much less.

Mizuno continued.

"Read page thirty-two."

Haruki opened the document.

Page thirty-two.

Three minutes later he understood why she sounded irritated.

The contract quietly claimed rights to future derivative works.

Merchandise.

Animation.

Spin-offs.

Almost everything.

The wording looked harmless.

The implications weren’t.

Haruki sat silently.

Mizuno finally asked:

"What did you learn?"

The answer arrived immediately.

"Lawyers are terrifying."

For the first time all week, Mizuno laughed.

A short laugh.

A rare one.

Then the call ended.

Haruki remained staring at the document.

The excitement from receiving the offer had already changed.

Not disappeared.

Changed.

Opportunity looked different when consequences became visible.

His phone buzzed.

Yui.

Lunch?

Simple.

Perfect timing.

Forty minutes later they sat inside a small restaurant near her training center.

The place smelled like grilled fish and miso soup.

The lunch crowd filled half the tables.

Outside, traffic crawled through the afternoon heat.

Yui noticed his expression immediately.

"Contract."

Not a question.

Haruki nodded.

Yui waited.

Then:

"Bad?"

"Complicated."

A better answer.

The conversation unfolded naturally.

Publisher offers.

Rights.

Percentages.

Future ownership.

The more Haruki explained, the more Yui frowned.

Eventually she interrupted.

"Why would anyone sign that?"

The question felt refreshingly simple.

Because most people inside the industry complicated everything.

Haruki thought for a moment.

Then answered honestly.

"Because they’re afraid."

Yui looked surprised.

He continued.

"Afraid the next offer won’t come."

A pause.

"Afraid they’ll lose momentum."

Another.

"Afraid success won’t happen twice."

The explanation hung between them.

Yui slowly nodded.

Because she understood that feeling.

Everyone chasing a future did.

The conversation shifted afterward.

Training.

Patients.

Coworkers.

Then something unexpected happened.

Yui mentioned a name.

A male coworker.

Only briefly.

A completely normal story.

A completely ordinary interaction.

Haruki immediately disliked the guy.

The realization arrived so suddenly that it caught him off guard.

Yui continued speaking.

Unaware.

Or pretending to be unaware.

A possibility Haruki found much more dangerous.

The lunch ended normally.

At least externally.

Internally, Haruki spent the train ride home trying to understand why a completely harmless coworker annoyed him.

The answer remained inconvenient.

Very inconvenient.

Back at his apartment, another surprise waited.

Kuroda.

Again.

The older creator sat outside the building entrance drinking canned coffee.

As if appearing unexpectedly was a hobby.

Haruki wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t.

"You’re becoming difficult to avoid."

Kuroda smiled.

"Good."

Naturally.

They walked together for several minutes.

Eventually Haruki mentioned the contract.

Kuroda listened.

Actually listened.

Then asked a question.

"Why do you create?"

Haruki sighed.

"Not this again."

Kuroda ignored him.

Expected.

The older creator pointed toward the city skyline.

"Different answers lead to different contracts."

Silence.

Then:

"If you want money, choose one path."

A pause.

"If you want control, choose another."

Another.

"If you want influence, choose another."

The advice felt annoyingly useful.

Haruki hated useful advice.

Mostly because it was difficult to ignore.

The conversation ended shortly afterward.

Back home, Chapter Twenty-One waited.

Ren finally prepared to reveal the truth.

The Bureau prepared to retaliate.

Miyu prepared to risk everything.

The story approached a breaking point.

Good.

Very good.

Near midnight, the system appeared.

Creator Point Debt

Remaining Balance:

182

Special Observation

Career growth often creates choices before creating certainty.

The notification vanished.

Haruki stared at the empty space.

Then at the contract.

Then at the manga pages.

Then at the publisher emails.

Three months ago, success looked simple.

Now success looked like decisions.

Complicated.

Messy.

Human.

And for the first time, that uncertainty felt more frightening than failure ever had.