When Jinguu You finally stepped out of the reception room, the front desk lady was still bowing politely with a bright smile. He gave her a friendly nod before walking out of the building.
The moment he stepped outside, he immediately spotted the same man who had nearly bumped into him upon entry. Only now, the man's back seemed even more hunched than before.
Jinguu You could only shake his head at the sight, a quiet expression of helplessness flickering in his eyes.
Being a mangaka wasn't as glamorous as it looked. It wasn't all shiny covers and fanfare. Only a minuscule fraction of mangaka made it to the top of the pyramid—bathed in glory, lauded by fans, rolling in cash. One successful title could guarantee a lifetime of stability and wealth.
That was the image of a "mangaka" the world liked to believe in.
But beneath the glittering surface, so many others—the vast majority—were living lives of quiet struggle. In this massive, international city, countless "mangaka" were worrying about whether they could afford their next meal.
If one didn't have a will of steel, this wasn't the path to take.
Of course, none of that had anything to do with Jinguu You. No matter how sympathetic he might seem, he knew that pity for strangers would only make him look hypocritical.
He was far too busy to stand around pondering other people's misfortunes. After leaving the editorial department, he headed straight home. This time, he took the JR train—showing up in a flashy sports car as a newbie mangaka was a little too conspicuous.
Once home, he sat down at his desk. After living here for a while, the place finally began to feel like a real home.
"Nothing beats being in your own place... Man, back then I couldn't even afford a public toilet with a year's salary. And now look at me—a single aristocrat with my own car and house."
He stood and stretched, feeling a dull ache in his back and shoulders. Ever since he'd installed some workout equipment in the spare room, he'd been exercising daily. This kind of muscle soreness was probably going to stick around for a while.
Suddenly, the phone on his desk vibrated. Jinguu You raised an eyebrow and picked it up. It was a LINE message.
"Kashiko?"
He smacked his forehead.
Lately, he'd been completely consumed with drawing manga, writing novels, studying, and running the website—he hadn't spared even a second to check in. He had actually forgotten about the one person who'd helped stave off his loneliness after arriving in this world.
Kashiko:Yō-kun, why haven't you been online lately? Making a girl worry and reach out first… that's a real failure as a man, you know. I was seriously starting to worry you'd be alone for the rest of your life.
The moment he opened LINE, the message hit him like a gust of wind.
That sharp tongue hidden in soft words—he was left completely speechless.
Jinguu You smacked his lips. Until now, he'd thought his online friend was a gentle, demure Yamato Nadeshiko type… but this kind of poison-tongued sass was hard to believe.
You:Sorry, Kashiko. I haven't been in touch lately. Last time we talked, you said you were working on your new volume, right? I've done a little writing myself and know how much focus it takes. I didn't want to disturb your flow, so I've been keeping my distance.
He typed the message quickly, hoping it would calm her irritation.
Kashiko:Oh? Yō-kun's done some writing too?
Her tone seemed to shift.
Jinguu You let out a relieved sigh.
There was still time left in the day, so he flopped onto his bed, deciding he could spare a few minutes to chat.
You:It's nothing worth mentioning. My stuff's nowhere near your level, Kashiko-sensei. But seeing how hard you're chasing your dreams kind of inspired me. It made me think of the dream I once gave up on. This time, I've decided—I won't back down. I'll become a real mangaka.
Jinguu You shamelessly glorified his so-called "dream" online. The truth?
His real dream had been to become a rich playboy heir, doing nothing all day, surrounded by money and women who came and went at his whim!
Kashiko:A mangaka? You mean those middle-aged men who live in holes barely five square meters, don't shave, don't do laundry, and sit in piles of trash every day while stealing panties from their female neighbors for inspiration—snickering "hehehe" as they fantasize about XX scenes?
You:Hey hey hey! Kashiko-sensei! That's the description of an R-18 doujin artist, right?! Actually, even most of them aren't like that! Are you looking down on doujin artists, as a fellow creator?!
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at her text, but somehow her absurd description made him want to chuckle.
The image of a pure Yamato Nadeshiko was rapidly fading, being replaced by something far more mischievous.
Kashiko:I'm not looking down on them. I'm just giving you a glimpse into your possible future, that's all.
You:Gee, thanks for the ominous warning. But hearing something like that from a girl—it's really hard to believe.
Kashiko:How old are you again, Yō-kun?
A strange question suddenly popped up.
You:Sixteen… almost seventeen, I think?
Kashiko:You "think"? Can't even remember your own age? A sixteen-year-old virgin boy… I'm seriously even more worried about your future now.
Jinguu You covered his face, staring at the phone. It really felt like he was being teased.
He briefly considered teasing her back, but gave up.
They were just internet friends, not long-time real-life companions. A girl teasing a guy might be harmless fun, but if he teased back, it could backfire badly. He didn't want to take that risk.
You:Alright, alright, let's change the topic. How's your manuscript coming along, Kashiko-sensei?
Kashiko:Ugh, don't get me started. I thought it was perfect, and the editor still rejected it! "This part doesn't work," "That part will lose readers," blah blah blah… asking me to change this and tweak that. The whole tone is ruined! How are readers supposed to feel the despair and sorrow I wrote if they gut everything?! It took two weeks of back-and-forth before they finally approved it! I seriously don't care what anyone else thinks anymore!
In his mind, Jinguu You could almost see a beautiful girl stomping her feet in frustration—yet even in her anger, she remained elegant.
You:C'mon, don't say that. Some of those readers could become your future fans, you know? And the editors… well, they have no choice. They want the story to be more accessible so more people will read it. It's their job to ask for changes that might help boost sales.
Kashiko:Wow. That was so businesslike and full of social awareness. Yō-kun, you sure know a lot about editors, huh?
You:Of course! Because I'm the guy who's gonna debut in Weekly Shōnen JUMP before turning seventeen!
He fired off the line half-jokingly—sounding like a total chuuni.
For a moment, the chat went silent. No reply.
Just when he thought she might've logged off, the phone buzzed again.
Kashiko:Yō-kun, don't get ahead of yourself. You have to take it one step at a time. Even if you fall, just get up and keep moving forward.
Her reply was gentle—hidden comfort in her words.
In Japan, the land of anime and manga, even those who didn't read Weekly Shōnen JUMP knew how monumental it was. Which meant she also understood just how difficult it would be to get serialized there.
She didn't believe in his dream, but she didn't say it outright either.
Looking at her message, Jinguu You felt a quiet warmth in his chest.
She might be poison-tongued, and far from the gentle ideal he imagined—but in her own way, she cared.
You:I get it, Kashiko. I really do.