Ryuji Aida leaned forward, elbows pressed into the desk, eyes locked on the screen as though burning every word into his brain.
His breathing grew heavier and heavier.
Standing at his side, Sonoko Machida watched the ever-shifting expressions race across the Editor-in-Chief's face. Her heart was a swirl of excitement and smug satisfaction.
Index really was extraordinary.
Even this grizzled veteran with thirty years in publishing couldn't resist it.
At last, Aida reached the end. He leaned back hard, sinking into his wide leather chair.
Eyes closed, he exhaled a long, heavy breath.
That breath carried too much—shock, exhilaration, disbelief, even a touch of fear.
If… if he had forced Seiji Fujiwara to abandon the long novel back then…
Fushikawa Bunko would have missed a gold mine.
A full minute passed before Aida opened his eyes again.
And his gaze had changed. No longer evaluative. Now it burned hot—like a man staring at a priceless treasure.
"Machida…" His voice came out hoarse.
"Yes, sir!" Machida straightened instantly.
"This book!" Aida slammed his palm on the desk, his voice ringing with conviction.
"It's a masterpiece!"
Hearing those words, Machida nodded so hard her bangs shook. "I—I thought the same, Chief!"
"This has the potential to explode!" Aida's words picked up speed, his eyes gleaming. "Handled properly, it could become a massive IP. Anime, manga, games, figures, live-action…"
"Warukawa-sensei just handed us a gold mine!"
He stood abruptly, pacing the office with fists clenched in excitement.
"We were wrong before! Warukawa-sensei wasn't arrogant—he's overflowing with confidence and talent!"
"Machida!" Aida stopped, eyes blazing.
"Contact him immediately. Tell him we agree. No—tell him we're begging him! Get that Index contract signed as fast as possible!"
"Yes, sir!" Machida snapped to attention, already turning to grab her phone.
"Wait!" Aida stopped her again.
Drawing a deep breath, a shrewd smile spread across his face.
"No, this can't be handled over the phone. I'll have legal draft an S-rank contract. You'll deliver it personally and meet him face to face. And remember—show humility. Lay our sincerity bare."
"S-rank contract?!" Machida gasped.
That was the highest-grade contract Fushikawa Bunko had.
Reserved only for their most celebrated pillars—authors with cumulative sales over ten million copies.
And now… they were giving it to a rookie who'd only published a single short story?
"That's right. S-rank!" Aida's tone brooked no argument. "For a genius of this level, rules can be broken. We have to chain him to Fushikawa's chariot at all costs!"
An hour later.
The doorbell rang at Seiji Fujiwara's apartment.
Utaha Kasumigaoka opened the door to find a short-haired woman in a neat business suit, bowing politely with a luxurious gift box in hand.
Sonoko Machida's smile was almost painfully humble.
"G-good afternoon. I'm Sonoko Machida from Fushikawa Bunko," she said, bowing deeper still. "Is Warukawa-sensei at home?"
Utaha's chest tightened. She wasn't stupid. Seeing Machida's complete one-eighty in attitude, she knew instantly what it meant.
That manuscript written in just three days… it had succeeded.
And not just succeeded. It was a massive hit.
A sour wave of frustration rose inside her chest.
Wordlessly, she stepped aside. Machida bowed again and slipped into the living room with exaggerated care.
"Warukawa-sensei!" the editor greeted with a ninety-degree bow at the sight of the relaxed figure on the sofa. "Forgive me for intruding!"
Somewhat surprised by her personal visit, Seiji rose with a smile. "Not at all. Please, have a seat, Editor Machida."
"Y-yes!"
Sitting stiffly, she placed the gift box and a thick contract onto the table and slid them forward.
"Sensei, we've already read your manuscript with the Chief Editor. It's astonishing—truly astonishing!" she said, pouring out praise without hesitation. "This is Fushikawa Bunko's S-rank contract, along with a small token of our appreciation. Please take a look!"
"Is that so?"
Seiji smiled faintly, picking up the contract and flipping through it at a leisurely pace.
Utaha stood nearby, apparently preparing tea, but her ears were locked onto every word.
When she heard "S-rank contract," her hand trembled so hard the teapot almost slipped.
An S-rank contract.
The ultimate symbol of status. The line dividing top-tier legends from everyone else.
And this man… had earned it with only his second work.
Seiji skimmed quickly, eyes landing on the key line: royalties.
"12%?" he murmured.
The casual tone sent Machida's heart lurching into her throat.
"Yes, Sensei! This is the highest royalty rate we can offer—absolutely top-level in the industry!"
"Not enough."
Seiji closed the contract and set it back on the table, still smiling. "We talked about this last time. I expected better terms the next time we met."
"An extra 2% isn't enough. Based on the success of 6 Days, 6 People, 6 Guns alone, I deserve that much. But with Index's quality? Didn't you and the Chief Editor both say it yourselves?"
Sweat broke out across Machida's forehead. She'd just talked herself into a corner.
"Then… what terms are you asking for, Sensei?"
"15%," Seiji said flatly.
"What…!"
Machida and Utaha both sucked in a sharp breath.
Fifteen percent.
That was beyond precedent. Across the entire Japanese publishing industry, fewer than five authors could command such a number.
Each one a living legend, backed by sales in the hundreds of millions.
And here was a newcomer—demanding it on his very first long novel.
Too outrageous.
Machida grimaced. "Sensei, that's… very difficult. A 15% royalty requires approval not just from the Chief, but the entire board—"
"Then ask the Chief," Seiji interrupted smoothly.
"Th-this… very well."
Machida rose and hurried to the balcony to make a call.
Moments later, Seiji's own phone rang. Caller ID: Ryuji Aida.
Seiji answered, switching to speakerphone and setting it on the table.
"Warukawa-sensei? This is Aida." The Chief's voice came warm, even jovial.
"Chief Aida," Seiji greeted with a chuckle.
"Sensei, to be honest, 15% is outside my authority," Aida said sincerely. "I understand your confidence, but with no track record in long novels, it's hard for us to justify to the board."
"Oh?" Seiji replied lazily. "So you're saying we can't make a deal?"
Aida stiffened. He could feel the unspoken threat. One "no" from him, and this manuscript would be on Shueisha's or Kadokawa's desk by tomorrow morning.
They couldn't afford to lose this godsend.
Before the stalemate could set in—
"…How about this? I'll add another percent. And if the market reacts well, I'll personally ensure more reprints," Aida offered after some thought.
Seiji only chuckled.
"If you don't have faith in the market, I do. So why don't we… make a bet?"
"A bet?" Aida repeated, stunned.
Seiji spoke slowly, his voice brimming with pride and absolute confidence.
"Simple. We set the line at 350,000 copies."
"If A Certain Magical Index Volume 1 fails to sell 350,000, I'll settle for just 10% royalties."
"But…" His tone sharpened, cutting like a blade. "If it sells above 350,000, then royalties are locked at 15%—and every future contract stays at that rate."
Silence.
Dead silence.
Aida. Machida. Even Utaha, still holding the teapot, went blank at the sheer audacity of the proposal.
Madman.
Three hundred fifty thousand copies? That was top-ten annual sales territory. Numbers most bestsellers couldn't dream of in their lifetime.
And Seiji Fujiwara was betting on it—staking five percent of royalties on the line.
That insane confidence left everyone speechless.
On the phone, Aida's breathing turned rough.
Inside his mind, two voices clashed.
One said it was reckless, too risky.
The other roared:
Bet! Take the bet!
A genius willing to wager real money on himself—this confidence alone was worth investing in.
And if he won?
Index would become the crown jewel of Fushikawa Bunko.
And Aida himself would go down as the man who discovered the prodigy of the era.
"…Fine!!!"
At last, Ryuji Aida let out a fierce shout.
"Warukawa-sensei! I'll take your bet!"
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