"Kazama-kun… I personally think having individuality is a wonderful thing."
Nagasaki Kento, editor-in-chief of Weekly Shonen Sunday, adjusted his glasses and paused.
"But if you insist on ignoring the market entirely, then perhaps it's time you found another line of work."
Kazama Yuu froze.
Those were… Japanese words. Perfectly clear ones.
Which raised a far more serious problem.
Wasn't I just about to get flattened by a truck?
One second ago, blinding headlights.
The next, this office.
Before he could process it, a violent wave of unfamiliar memories crashed into his head.
Kazama Yuu. Twenty-two years old. Full-time manga artist.
Parents deceased. No close relatives. Savings nearly depleted.
Miss this paycheck, and next month he'd be sleeping under a bridge, officially promoted to "homeless artist."
The only consolation?
The face staring back at him in the office window was identical to his own.
An alternate-universe version of himself.
And this wasn't his old world.
No Toriyama.
No Tezuka.
No Oda.
Manga here had developed along a completely different trajectory.
"Kazama-kun?"
Before he could answer, a woman suddenly spoke up.
"Chief Nagasaki, please—please give Teacher Kazama one more chance! I'll talk to him again!"
The young woman bowed deeply, panic written all over her face.
This was his editor—Ishigami Rina.
Sharp black business suit. Neatly tailored skirt. Hair tied back with professional precision. Her makeup was understated, elegant, and somehow made her look both strict and gentle at the same time.
"Since Editor Ishigami is asking…"
Nagasaki sighed.
"I'll give you one final opportunity."
Ishigami's eyes lit up.
"In two weeks, the New Generation Original Works Award will be held," Nagasaki continued calmly. "Win it, and I'll reconsider keeping you on."
Kazama's heart sank.
"Your current series will be canceled. All your focus should go toward that contest."
"But—!"
Nagasaki's gaze shifted to Ishigami.
She fell silent immediately.
"You understand, Editor Ishigami," he said evenly. "If he wants to stay, he must prove his value. You'd be better off spending your energy on Teacher Suzuki."
Those words hit harder than expected.
Ishigami lowered her head, fingers clenched.
"I know this feels harsh, Kazama-kun," Nagasaki said. "But that is reality. If the market accepts you, so will I. If not… please leave."
Dismissed.
As Kazama followed Ishigami out of the office, hushed voices drifted across the editorial floor.
"Man, Editor Ishigami really drew the short straw with that one."
"Keep it down she'll hear you. She's too kind for her own good."
"I don't get it. Why does she keep trying? That guy's hopeless."
Their words reached him with uncomfortable clarity.
"I'm really sorry, Teacher Kazama," Ishigami said quietly once they were outside. "Let's head back and talk. I truly want you to stay."
She looked at him like someone desperately trying to save a sinking ship.
"I… need a moment," Kazama replied.
His mind was still a mess—memories overlapping, logic refusing to line up.
By the time they reached his apartment, Ishigami had already decided something on her own.
"For safety reasons," she said gently, "I'll walk you home."
She didn't say it, but the implication was clear.
He looks unstable.
"We're here," she said, stopping in front of his door.
"Oh. Right."
Kazama fumbled for the key and unlocked it.
"May I come in?" Ishigami asked carefully. "I really want to talk."
Kazama hesitated.
She was still trying—after everything.
Anyone willing to beg the editor-in-chief for a doomed mangaka deserved at least that courtesy.
"…Please, come in."
"Excuse me."
The door closed behind her.
Then—
"Are you out of your mind?!"
The gentle editor vanished.
Ishigami Rina grabbed his collar and slammed him against the wall, eyes blazing.
"How many times have I told you to look at the market?! What have you been reading lately, huh?!"
Kazama stared.
"Do you know what sells right now? Cute girls! Fan service! One chapter in and straight to romance bait! How is that so hard to understand?!"
She shook him once for emphasis.
"Even an idiot would've figured it out by now—so why can't you?!"
Kazama blinked.
…So this is what editors are really like.