Chapter 112: Rank Fourteen

Chapter 112: Chapter 112: Rank Fourteen

The ranking should not have bothered him.

It did.

More than Haruki wanted to admit.

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Rank Fourteen.

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The number followed him everywhere.

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Not physically.

Mentally.

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While brushing his teeth.

While buying coffee.

While sketching backgrounds.

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Fourteen.

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A small decline.

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A visible decline.

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The difference mattered.

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No.

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The phrase caught itself.

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Good.

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Progress.

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At 7:30 AM, Haruki arrived at Tachibana Media for his first official contract strategy session.

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Not negotiations.

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Preparation.

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According to Suzune, preparation prevented disasters.

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According to Haruki, preparation usually created new disasters.

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The conference room already contained three people.

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Suzune.

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Nakamura.

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And someone new.

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A woman.

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Early twenties.

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Sharp eyes.

Sharp suit.

Sharp expression.

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Everything about her looked expensive.

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Not wealthy.

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Efficient.

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A dangerous distinction.

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She stood immediately.

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"Kasuga Reika."

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Haruki shook her hand.

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Firm grip.

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Direct eye contact.

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No hesitation.

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The woman studied him for half a second.

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Then:

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"You look different from the internet."

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Wonderful.

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An excellent beginning.

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Nakamura buried his face in a coffee cup.

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Suzune looked exhausted already.

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The meeting started.

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Contract revisions.

Rights protections.

Marketing projections.

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Normal publishing topics.

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Useful publishing topics.

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Then Reika opened a folder.

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Everything changed.

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The folder contained public perception reports.

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Graphs.

Analytics.

Reader sentiment.

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Haruki hated it immediately.

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The data looked familiar.

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Too familiar.

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Because it confirmed what he already knew.

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The controversy still overshadowed the manga.

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Less than before.

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Still too much.

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Reika tapped one graph.

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"This is your problem."

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Direct.

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Brutally direct.

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The graph showed creator discussion.

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Not story discussion.

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Creator.

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Haruki.

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His mistakes.

His interviews.

His rankings.

His contracts.

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Not Ren.

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Not Threadless Gate.

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A silence settled across the room.

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Not dramatic.

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Professional.

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Then Reika surprised everyone.

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Including herself.

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She closed the folder.

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Immediately.

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"Good."

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Suzune groaned.

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Nakamura laughed.

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Haruki stared.

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The disease had spread again.

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Reika ignored everyone.

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"If the story was dead, we couldn’t fix it."

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A pause.

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"The problem isn’t quality."

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Another.

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"The problem is attention."

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That changed things.

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Slightly.

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Not enough.

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Enough.

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The meeting continued for another hour.

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No mysteries.

No conspiracies.

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Just publishing.

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Exactly what the novel needed.

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Exactly what Haruki needed.

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At noon, he left with three assignments.

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Finish Chapter Twenty-Nine.

Prepare a creator statement.

Attend a small industry networking event.

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The third one sounded terrible.

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Absolutely terrible.

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Which probably meant it mattered.

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At three o’clock, Haruki arrived.

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The event occupied a medium-sized hotel conference hall.

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Nothing glamorous.

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Nothing dramatic.

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Editors.

Creators.

Publishers.

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Industry people.

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The atmosphere felt strangely familiar.

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Like a tournament.

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Except instead of competing through manga, everyone competed through conversation.

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Far more terrifying.

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Haruki grabbed a drink.

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Found a corner.

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Planned to survive.

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The plan lasted four minutes.

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Then someone sat beside him.

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A woman.

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Black hair.

Confident posture.

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A badge hung around her neck.

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Creator.

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Name:

Aoi Kisaragi

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Haruki blinked.

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The female creator.

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The one he’d heard about.

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The one missing from the blueprint for nearly a hundred Chapters.

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Finally here.

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Aoi noticed immediately.

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"That’s a disappointing reaction."

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Haruki frowned.

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"What?"

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"I expected more excitement."

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The woman sipped her drink.

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Calm.

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Dangerously calm.

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Then:

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"You’ve been compared to me for six months."

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A pause.

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"I was curious."

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Interesting.

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No.

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Still banned.

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Aoi laughed softly.

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"You really are awkward."

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"Thank you."

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"That wasn’t a compliment."

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"That makes more sense."

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The conversation continued.

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Not flirtation.

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Not rivalry.

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Something stranger.

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Evaluation.

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Two creators measuring each other.

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Aoi specialized in character-driven manga.

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Emotion.

Relationships.

Audience connection.

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Almost the opposite of Haruki’s strengths.

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Which explained the comparisons.

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Unfortunately.

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As they talked, Haruki noticed something.

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People kept approaching Aoi.

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Editors.

Artists.

Writers.

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Everyone knew her.

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Everyone liked her.

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Sora’s social talent.

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But different.

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More controlled.

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More mature.

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A dangerous skill set.

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Very dangerous.

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Eventually Aoi looked toward him.

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Then asked:

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"Can I be honest?"

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A terrible sentence.

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Always.

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Haruki nodded.

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The creator pointed directly at him.

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"Your manga is better than your public image."

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The statement landed immediately.

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Because it was true.

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Painfully true.

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Aoi continued.

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"That’s fixable."

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A pause.

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"Most creators have the opposite problem."

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For several seconds, Haruki didn’t know how to respond.

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Not because the observation was profound.

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Because it felt accurate.

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Then a commotion erupted near the entrance.

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Not loud.

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Sharp.

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People turning.

Whispers spreading.

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The room shifted.

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Industry instincts activating simultaneously.

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Haruki looked toward the doors.

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Then froze.

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A familiar face entered.

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Kuroda.

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The older creator moved through the crowd.

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Calm.

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Focused.

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Except he wasn’t alone.

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A second man walked beside him.

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Older.

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Gray hair.

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Sharp eyes.

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The expression felt strangely familiar.

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Not the face.

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The expression.

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Haruki’s chest tightened.

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Because something about the man felt wrong.

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Not dangerous.

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Recognizable.

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Then the realization hit.

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The voice.

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The voicemail voice.

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Not identical.

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Close enough.

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Much too close.

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Across the room, the older man briefly met Haruki’s gaze.

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For half a second.

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No more.

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Then he smiled.

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As if recognizing someone he’d never met.

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And suddenly Rank Fourteen felt very far away.

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Because for the first time, the creator story and the mystery story had collided in the same room.

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And Haruki wasn’t sure that was a good thing.