— — — — — —
When Oikawa saw the words Dengeki Bunko Editorial Department, he froze.
"They're emailing me after just the first round? Aren't big publishers supposed to be aloof and untouchable?"
Curious, he opened it.
{Dear "Copycat Transmigrator"}
{First, congratulations on being selected for the first round of the Dengeki Prize.}
{After internal discussion within our editorial department, we believe your work 'Your Lie in April' is exceptionally promising and has strong publication potential.}
{According to Dengeki Bunko's award rules, you must expand the manuscript to at least 100,000 characters before the final judging deadline.}
{If you encounter any issues during revision, you may contact the responsible chief editor at any time.}
{—Chief Editor: Ayame Kagurazaka (Line ID: Jessie0727)}
"…So that's why they emailed me."
"They're chasing updates."
Under normal circumstances, publishers only contacted authors who had won the Grand Prize or a Gold/Silver Award.
This time was different.
The editors had clearly recognized the quality of Your Lie in April. But with only twenty thousand characters submitted, it was hard to judge the full scope of the story.
Plenty of writers started strong and collapsed halfway through.
A flashy beginning meant nothing if the plot later spiraled into nonsense.
Writing wasn't as simple as people imagined.
Just avoiding obvious pitfalls and telling a coherent story eliminated ninety percent of aspiring authors.
Oikawa closed the email and didn't overthink it. He'd already finished drafting the full manuscript. He attached the completed Your Lie in April and sent it over.
"Doesn't feel like this'll stop at Silver Prize."
"If I can snag Gold, that's 1.5 million yen."
With 1.5 million yen, life would change dramatically.
And when that happened…
Kekeke~
---
Dengeki Bunko, publishing department—
Chris Yamada sat in the reception room, meticulously reviewing submissions.
In the corner, a blonde girl in full Lolita fashion hammered away at a keyboard, looking utterly miserable.
"I'm not writing anymore. Absolutely not."
"Chris, if you've got guts, just kill me. My mana is empty. I can't squeeze out another word."
The girl flopped face-first onto the desk like a broken doll.
Chris didn't even glance at her. "Elf, you can leave once you finish Volume Two of the Dark Elf of Bursting Flame."
"I need to go to the bathroom!"
"There's a solution bucket beside you."
"You monster… fine!"
Grumbling, Elf Yamada slammed her fingers back onto the keyboard, pounding it hard enough to try and break it.
"Don't bother. I have an identical spare keyboard ready."
Chris calmly continued reviewing manuscripts while fending off his younger sister's rebellion.
No one knew her better than he did.
Without pressure, Volume Two would be delayed until next year.
"Trash. Trash."
As an editor, the worst part of his job was the mountain of garbage flooding his inbox.
Finding a gem among them was like searching Kabukicho for an untouched maiden.
Nearly impossible.
"…Hm?"
"This one's interesting."
His mouse stopped. A spark of interest lit up his eyes.
"The premise is a bit conventional. But the character work and plot progression are solid. The prose is excellent."
"Very good. Really good."
He felt like he'd actually found that mythical gem.
"Your Lie in April. Author: Copycat Transmigrator."
"Interesting."
After a moment's thought, Chris typed out a reply.
This work shows strong publication potential.Please contact our editorial department as soon as possible after receiving this message.
{Editor Line ID: Cris11223}
Many publishers still clung to the old system of selecting talent solely through major prize competitions.
Chris believed that model was outdated.
Open submissions. Early editorial feedback. Securing promising authors before competitors did.
It required more effort from editors. But it was worth it.
He hoped this "Copycat Transmigrator" would reach out soon.
Your Lie in April had the potential to sell at least 300,000 copies.
---
Convenience Store—
"Your instant noodles, sir."
Oikawa carried over two bowls to the seating area.
"Hmm?"
"What did you just call me?"
The young woman in pajamas looked up at him with a dangerous smile.
"…Sensei. Shizuka-sensei."
He corrected himself immediately.
"That's better."
Shizuka Hiratsuka nodded in satisfaction, lit a cigarette, and casually ordered, "Grab me two colas."
"Coke or Pepsi?"
"Coca-Cola. Pepsi's undrinkable."
Oikawa felt a headache coming on.
How was this a teacher? She looked more like a street boss.
"Well? Move."
He obeyed.
"Cold ones."
"I know, I know."
When he returned with the drinks, Hiratsuka patted the seat beside her.
"Sit. Eat."
Oikawa sighed and sat down. "Sensei, you don't have to check on me every night. I'm not going to hurt myself again."
"Oh? I just got off work and came for a late snack. Happened to run into my student. Buying him noodles. Perfectly normal."
She played dumb flawlessly.
"Once or twice is normal," Oikawa said gloomily. "Every single night isn't."
"And honestly… I'm tired of instant noodles."
"If you really want to keep me, at least treat me to wagyu."
"I can cook, clean, and warm the bed. Guaranteed satisfaction."
Hiratsuka didn't even look up.
Her fist clenched.
A sharp gust cut through the air.
In the next second, her punch stopped just beside his ear.
"Say one more stupid thing like that and next time I won't miss your head."
Oikawa shut up instantly.
Slurping his noodles, he gave her a sincere thumbs-up. "Sensei, how did you know this is my favorite brand? We really are on the same wavelength."
.
.
.