Okami's POV:
"Sorry, but we don't think it will work well in the market," the editor said, flipping through the pages of my manuscript before closing it with a dull thud.
Again. Again my work held no value. I clenched my fists under the table, swallowing the bitter lump in my throat.
"It's not that your writing is bad," he added, as if that would soften the blow. "It just doesn't align with the mainstream demand. I'm sorry."
With that, he gathered his things and left, leaving behind nothing but the lingering weight of rejection.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to stay still, to not react—to not feel.
I guess… Sister was right. I'm useless. I hold no value in this world.
Ahh… I'm just a burden on Usagi too.
She's doing so great—keeping up with her hotel management studies, working as a chef under Mom, earning to support us so we can live together… and here I am, unable to even write something worth publishing.
I clenched my jaw, frustration bubbling inside me as I stared at my manuscript.
What's the point?
My hands moved on their own, crumpling the pages, crushing the countless hours I had poured into them.
Hah… what good comes from someone staying with me?
I'm just a boring, average-looking guy with a bad reputation. A guy whose own family doesn't even want him.
And yet… she wants me.
Usagi, that idiot, stays by my side like it's the most natural thing in the world. She smiles at me like I'm worth something. Like I matter.
But what can I even do for her?
Nothing.
All I ever do is mess with her, tease her—because that's the only thing I'm good at.
"Why…? Why does my work hold no value?"
I clenched my fists, staring at the crumpled manuscript in my hands.
"Can't they read it? Don't they see what I'm trying to do?!"
Is there really a problem with going against the trend? With trying something unique? Why does everything have to fit into a stupid mold to be considered good?
I bit my lip, my chest tightening. Maybe… maybe it's not the industry. Maybe it's just me. Maybe my writing really isn't good enough.
Maybe my sister was right all along.
"Okami-kun?"
A sudden voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Huh?" I looked up, startled. "Usagi? What are you doing here?"
She grinned, plopping down across from me. "I got off lectures early, so I was heading home when I saw you sitting here all gloomy in a café." She leaned forward with a teasing smirk. "Hehe… are you having an affair behind my back?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Idiot. What kind of affair would I even have?"
She chuckled. "Hmm, I dunno~ Maybe a secret relationship with your manuscripts?" She pointed at the crumpled papers in my hands. "Looks like a pretty toxic one, though."
I put on my usual expression and joked, "Yeah, the editor rejected another one of my manuscripts. Nothing less from me!"
Usagi picked up the crumpled manuscript from my hands and started flipping through the pages. Her eyes scanned the words, and after a while, she smiled.
"It's interesting, Okami-kun," she said, her voice filled with genuine excitement. "You have a slow yet steady opening, and the humor—hehe—it's actually funny! Unlike all those other novels with ridiculously overpowered main characters."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."
She shook her head. "Nope! I mean it. It's refreshing! You're not just following trends—you're creating something new. The problem isn't your writing, Okami-kun. It's that people are scared to try something different."
I sighed. "Doesn't matter what the problem is—if I can't publish it, how will people ever read my work? Every new trend needs a starting point, but I can't even get there!"
Usagi leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. "Ahh, well, editors reject manuscripts because they want mainstream content that sells. Right now, that's what people are reading."
I scoffed. "Exactly my point."
She shook her head with a grin. "But, Okami-kun, listen—if you manage to create interest in your unique genre among readers, why wouldn't publishers want to take a chance on you?"
I frowned slightly. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"
She pointed at herself confidently. "See, it's the same as my field. In a restaurant, we make dishes based on what people want to eat at that particular time, so we add them to the menu because they sell. But—" She raised a finger, "—we never remove our specialties, because some customers come only for those dishes. And over time, those specialties become the restaurant's identity."
I blinked. "So... you're saying I should make my work my identity?"
She nodded. "Exactly! Instead of forcing your story to fit a trend, make people want your style of storytelling. If even a small audience loves it, eventually, it'll grow into something bigger."
I sighed. "But not a single editor wants to publish my work..."
Usagi grinned. "Hehe, that's because you're going with the old way, Okami. Go with the trend!"
I frowned. "You just told me not to blend myself into the trend."
She shook her head with a playful tch tch tch. "Baka Okami~ I don't mean to change your writing style. I mean you should adopt the new trend of publishing!"
I raised an eyebrow. "And that is...?"
She crossed her arms proudly. "Post your work on the internet! Build your own reader base. Once you have loyal readers, publishers will want to print your work because they'll see the demand. It'll take time, but—"
She suddenly held my hand, her expression soft yet determined. "Okami-kun... you don't have to stop chasing your dream. I won't allow you to."
I stared at her, my chest tightening. How does she always manage to pull me back when I'm about to give up? O
I chuckled softly. "It's just like when we first met…"
That day is still fresh in my heart, as if it happened just yesterday.
Back then, I was lost—buried under the weight of my past, convinced that I was nothing but a shadow of my former self. And then she appeared, barging into my life like a storm I never saw coming.
I looked at Usagi, her eyes filled with unwavering confidence in me, just like they were that day. No hesitation, no doubt—only belief.
How does she do it?
How does she make me feel like I'm worth something… even when I can't see it myself?