Afternoon.
The agreed-upon visiting time.
Sonoko Machida stood nervously at the door, pressing the bell. In her hand she clutched the Hokkaido travel vouchers.
When I see Warukawa-sensei, I mustn't bring up the online mess. Just say I'm here to deliver a little gift.
If he looks exhausted, I'll chat about something cheerful.
He's so young… to suffer this level of online abuse, the pressure on him must be unbearable.
She kept reminding herself of this as the door swung open.
It wasn't Seiji who greeted her, but Utaha Kasumigaoka. She smiled politely.
"Please, come in, Editor Machida."
"Thank you for having me."
Machida stepped inside, forcing a smile. But as her eyes lifted toward the living room, she froze.
What she had imagined—Warukawa-sensei slumped and haggard, or else pacing in anger—did not appear.
It was the exact opposite.
Seiji Fujiwara was lounging lazily on the sofa, casually scrolling his phone, a relaxed smile at the corner of his lips.
Sunlight poured through the tall glass windows, casting a golden glow over him. His face was fresh, his expression bright, like someone who had just enjoyed the perfect afternoon nap.
That aura of ease and leisure… absolutely nothing like a man under the siege of a media storm.
Machida was stunned.
What… what was this?
He looked completely untouched.
This composure—was he really just an eighteen-year-old kid? Even the staff at Fushikawa had been restless for days, unable to shake off their indignation.
She walked forward in disbelief, speaking softly. "Good afternoon, Warukawa-sensei."
"Afternoon, Machida-san. Perfect timing."
Seiji set his phone down and looked up at her with a calm smile.
"I was going to have Utaha deliver the manuscript to you. Since you're here, you've saved us the trouble."
He tilted his head toward the study.
"Utaha, bring it out."
"Of course."
Utaha disappeared into the study.
Manuscript? Wait… what?
Machida blinked. Writing? At a time like this?
Before she could process it, Utaha returned with a thick printed stack and placed it gently in Machida's hands.
"Here you go, Miss Machida."
"This… what is this?" she asked, stunned.
"The second volume of Index. It's finished," Seiji answered, as casually as if commenting on the weather.
The words hit her like a boulder crashing into a still lake.
Her heart erupted into waves.
The second volume? Done?
Despite the endless online storm, this young man had calmly created—no, completed—the next book? And long before the deadline, at that?!
Machida's eyes shifted to him in disbelief, as though she were staring at something inhuman.
Was his heart forged of iron?
She almost laughed in relief. Thank goodness she hadn't pulled out those travel vouchers yet. She would've made a complete fool of herself.
"Yes… then I'll gladly take it."
Holding the manuscript reverently with both hands, she sat on the sofa, face solemn, and began to read.
Utaha poured her a cup of coffee, but she didn't even notice. Every fiber of her attention was absorbed by the pages.
One look at the opening lines, and her breath caught.
The usual high standard was there. No—that wasn't right.
It was even higher than before.
She turned page after page, her expression shifting wildly.
Shock. Disbelief. Then elation.
"My god… this structure, these sentences…"
"This isn't just a light novel anymore. This is literature!"
"But it still weaves in all the fun and flair of light novels. This… this volume has achieved the perfect balance of depth and entertainment!"
She was trembling with excitement, her reaction leaving Utaha wide-eyed.
"That good?" Utaha whispered.
She hadn't read a word of the new manuscript yet, only knowing Seiji had been working on it.
"See for yourself!" Machida thrust the pages at her, eyes blazing. "You're a creator too. Judge with your own eyes!"
Utaha glanced at Seiji. He gave her a small nod.
Taking the stack, she began to read.
Soon enough, her expression mirrored Machida's.
Surprise. Awe. Utter disbelief.
Every line hit her like a tidal wave.
The talent pouring through the prose overwhelmed her.
"The texture of this writing…"
Utaha's voice trembled.
"His control of pacing, how seamlessly it flows into an exciting narrative—this is…"
Her mind reeled.
Why does this bastard have such terrifying talent?
The heavens are unfair.
And worse… he's a scumbag, yet I can't help admiring him.
Utaha, snap out of it! He's still a jerk!
She bit down hard, forcing herself to stay composed. But her eyes betrayed her, glimmering with respect she couldn't suppress.
Because the truth was plain: the more she understood, the clearer it became.
Plenty of writers excelled at light novels. Plenty shined at traditional fiction.
But to master both—blending literary weight with mass-market thrills to create something that satisfied every type of reader—was a miracle.
A feat only a handful of people in the world could achieve.
And now, that handful included Seiji Fujiwara.
"Ha ha, Machida-san, what do you think of volume two?" Seiji asked lightly when both women were finished.
"How could I not be satisfied!" Machida shot to her feet, voice nearly cracking with excitement. "If this isn't good enough, then ninety-nine percent of light novel authors may as well commit seppuku!"
She snatched the manuscript back from Utaha and slid it into her bag as though it were a sacred relic.
"I came here ready to comfort you, to talk you through the storm…" She laughed at herself, shaking her head. "But clearly you don't need it. Your spirit's like steel."
"Not only are you untouched, you've turned out a second volume—better than the first!"
Her eyes sparkled with admiration.
"Warukawa-sensei… are you the reincarnation of the god of light novels?"
"Hahaha, maybe I am," Seiji said, laughing heartily.
With a cheat system backing him, who knew? Maybe he really would crush the entire industry, sweeping it clean like Osamu Tezuka once did with manga.
"In that case, I'll be counting on the great Warukawa-sensei," Machida teased with a grin, bowing slightly.
"Sure, sure," Seiji waved her off.
Utaha sat quietly, her gaze complicated as she watched him.
"Well, since I've got the manuscript, I'll be heading back. The editor-in-chief has been eagerly waiting for this," Machida said, finally sipping the coffee Utaha had set out before rising.
"Oh—before I forget, here's something from Fushikawa."
She pulled out two travel vouchers and handed them over.
"These are for Hokkaido. I'll send you a list later. We've got partnerships with resorts across Japan. If any destination catches your eye, just let me know."
"Thanks," Seiji said, taking them without hesitation. This was simply part of the perks of being the company's star author.
"Then I'll take my leave." Machida bowed again and headed for the door.
"I'll see you out," Seiji said, rising to walk her out.