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"Should we reschedule?" Leo asked, noting the tension radiating from Machida. "If this is going to be a long process, we can do this another day. I don't want to impose."
Leo hadn't expected his manuscript to land with the force of a bunker buster. To him, this work was a "Frankenstein's Monster"—a stitched-together amalgamation of the best tropes, pacing techniques, and anti-hero archetypes from the thousands of web novels he had read in his previous life. He had refined it, polished the prose, and adapted it for a Japanese audience, but the DNA was foreign. He hadn't invented the wheel; he'd just brought a tank to a knife fight.
"No," Machida said instantly, her voice sharp. She realized she sounded desperate and softened her tone. "No need. I'll call the Editor-in-Chief right now. He can be here in forty minutes. Please, wait."
She stood up and walked briskly to a quieter corner of the shop, phone pressed to her ear. She was terrified that if she let Leo walk out that door, he might walk into the offices of Dengeki Bunko tomorrow.
Leo nodded, leaning back. He was patient. In fact, this was ideal. Skipping the slush pile and going straight to the top brass was a privilege usually reserved for industry veterans, not high school rookies.
While Machida was on the phone, Leo and Utaha chatted.
"You really trust her," Leo observed, watching Machida pace by the entrance.
"She's the only reason I'm still an author," Utaha admitted, tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "My second volume... the one that tanked? Sonoko-san was in the hospital after a car accident. I was assigned a substitute editor. That's when everything fell apart. By the time she came back for Volume 4, the damage was done."
Leo nodded slowly. It made sense. In the anime, Machida was often portrayed as a bit of a gag character—obsessed with marriage and alcohol. But sitting here, listening to her analyze the market trends earlier, Leo realized she was the real deal. She had a terrifyingly sharp eye for quality. She was the kind of editor who could drag 120% of the potential out of an author.
Kasumigaoka Utaha needs a handler, Leo thought. And Machida is the only one who knows how to hold the leash.
Forty minutes later, the bell above the door chimed.
A tall, stout middle-aged man walked in. He was breathless, his tie slightly askew. He had a round, friendly face and a physique that reminded Leo instantly of Totoro from the Ghibli films. He radiated a kind of harmless, grandfatherly energy.
Machida waved him over. She slid into the booth next to Utaha, giving up her seat opposite Leo.
"Hello, hello," the man said, wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. "You must be Leo-sensei. A true hero among young men, from what I hear. I am Kawada Yuichiro, the Editor-in-Chief of Shinazugawa Bunko."
He didn't mention that he was an old friend of Machida's father or her protector within the company. He just offered a hand that felt like a baseball mitt.
"Pleasure to meet you, Kawada-san," Leo said, shaking the hand firmly. He signaled a waiter. "Please, sit. Can I get you something? Coffee? Cake?"
"Coffee, black. Thank you," Kawada said, sitting down. The bench creaked slightly under his weight.
Without wasting time on small talk, Kawada pulled his reading glasses from his breast pocket and turned the laptop toward him.
The table fell into silence again.
Leo ate his own dessert slowly, watching the Editor-in-Chief.
Kawada started reading with a polite, professional expression. Ten minutes in, his brows furrowed. Thirty minutes in, he leaned closer to the screen. An hour in, he had forgotten his coffee entirely.
Leo observed the man's micro-expressions. Kawada was a veteran. He had climbed the ranks from a lowly editor to the Chief. He had seen trends come and go. He knew that Shinazugawa Bunko was dying—bleeding out slowly as they failed to secure a flagship hit. He didn't want to retire as the captain of a sunken ship.
Two hours passed.
Kawada's hand reached into his jacket pocket, trembling slightly as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped one out, brought it halfway to his mouth, then froze as he saw the "No Smoking" sign on the wall. He stared at the cigarette for a long moment, looking like a man in physical pain, before shoving it back into the pack with a sigh.
He took a deep, shuddering breath to suppress the craving and finally looked up.
His eyes were red-rimmed and intense.
"This..." Kawada began, his voice rough. "This is a masterpiece. It's a market-breaker."
He looked at Leo with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"Leo-sensei... you are, without a doubt, the most talented newcomer I have ever seen. As an editor, it is my job to critique and refine. But I look at this text, and I don't know what to say. It's... it's already finished. The prose, the pacing, the biting cynicism... it's mature beyond your years. There is no room for me to intervene."
Kawada leaned forward, his large hands gripping the edge of the table.
"If the subsequent volumes maintain this quality," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "this work will leave a scar on the history of light novels. It will define a generation."
He was internally screaming. This was it. This was the lifeline. This was the Index, the Haruhi, the SAO that Shinazugawa had been praying for.
Suddenly, Kawada reached across the table and grabbed Leo's hand with both of his own. His grip was clammy and desperate.
"Please!" Kawada pleaded, his eyes wide. "Please entrust this work to us! We will give you the best terms! We can discuss royalties right now! Name your price!"
Leo flinched, instinctively pulling his hand back from the intense, Totoro-sized man.
"Whoa, easy there, Chief," Leo said with a nervous laugh, checking to make sure the other patrons weren't staring. "I'm flattered, but I swing the other way. Let's keep this professional."
Kawada blinked, realizing what he had done. He let go, coughing awkwardly and adjusting his tie, his face turning a beet red. "Ah! My apologies! I got carried away! I just... I haven't seen a manuscript like this in ten years."
Machida suppressed a grin behind her hand. She knew she had made the right call. The hook was set. Now, it was time to reel in the contract.