Haruki, as one of the authors serialized in Inkbolt, also bought a copy of this week's issue to support himself.
As a creator, he understood well that The Garden of Words was, in many ways, a risky debut. The story was short, and its plot wasn't driven by dramatic conflicts. For a newcomer, launching a series like this wasn't exactly ideal.
It was for this reason that Haruki had poured his energy into the visual style—his goal was to hook readers with the artwork, hoping the emotional subtlety of the story would resonate through its aesthetic.
Although the manga itself came from the system, Haruki wasn't completely unaware of how it performed in its original world.
The system didn't allow him to read any works he hadn't unlocked, but it did provide information on their popularity, status, and even their creators. So he knew that The Garden of Words was originally the work of a renowned animation director—Makoto Shinkai, often dubbed "the wallpaper god." Compared to the overwhelming success of his later films like Your Name, The Garden of Words had only achieved modest recognition.
And that was with Shinkai's reputation and promotional backing in the original world.
In this world, Haruki was just a rookie author, and Inkbolt was a small magazine with a circulation of only tens of thousands. He honestly had no idea how far The Garden of Words could go.
His only hope was that the work would reach as many readers as possible, that some would truly connect with it. That it would earn him enough world points to unlock a second series from the system.
---
At the Kurokawa Publishing headquarters, Sora Aizawa sat quietly in her office after finishing the day's tasks.
It was already late afternoon, but she hadn't left yet—she was waiting.
Today marked the release of the first chapter of The Garden of Words.
In the manga industry, neither editors nor publishers determined a work's true success. That judgment came from the readers.
Every time a magazine issue dropped, the editorial team would collect reader feedback to determine which series had resonated the most.
Of course, reader surveys weren't done through old-fashioned mail anymore. Online voting had become the standard.
Despite some lag in print distribution, the first 12 hours of online votes usually gave a very accurate picture of how readers felt.
Just then, a man stepped into her office without knocking.
"Still here?" Riku Hayashi walked in with a smile, casually taking a seat.
Sora didn't bother to hide the flash of annoyance in her eyes, though she kept her tone even. "I'm cutting back on meals. No dinner for me, Deputy Editor."
The emphasis on his title made Haruto's smile stiffen slightly.
"You're waiting for the voting results, aren't you?" he said with a grin. He wasn't surprised—over the past six months, his dinner invitations had been rejected dozens of times.
In fact, Sora's constant refusals were the reason he'd been making her life difficult at work.
He wasn't the type to take rejection gracefully.
Haruto Minami wasn't interested in being the "gentleman" who walked away when things didn't go his way. No—if he couldn't win her over, then he would do everything in his power to make sure she paid the price.
"If you ask me, that manga is a lost cause. Wasting a serialization slot in Inkbolt—you'll see. Once the survey results come out, I doubt The Garden of Words will even make it into the top half."
"And if it finishes in last place, well... seven chapters and done. People in the industry will laugh. Your judgment as an editor will come under scrutiny."
He leaned back in her chair without invitation, still smirking. "It's been months since you've had a proposal get approved. Sure, a few of your authors are running in second-tier magazines, but none of them have made a splash."
"Are you done?" Sora's tone was ice. "If there's nothing else, I'd like to be alone."
Riku stared at her for a beat, then stood, keeping his smug composure. "Suit yourself."
But as he closed the door behind him, his expression darkened.
If she wouldn't play nice, he'd make her regret it.
---
Time ticked by.
At exactly 7:00 PM, the reader support rankings for that week's issue of Inkbolt arrived in the inboxes of all Kurokawa Publishing editors.
Sora opened her email the moment it landed.
"First place: Demon Monk — 1,263 votes."
She bit her lip. She hadn't expected much, but it still stung a little.
"Second place: Black Cat — 1,105 votes."
She kept scrolling—and then her eyes caught something that made her sit up.
"Third place: The Garden of Words — 998 votes!"
---
Sora breathed a sigh of relief. To be honest, as long as the series didn't drop to the very bottom of the popularity rankings or get abruptly cut, Sora believed that by the time *The Garden of Words* ended, the feedback would likely be positive.
Fortunately, it seemed that the audience this year had responded well to such a delicate, small-scale manga.
Otherwise, if it ended up near the bottom, things would play out exactly as Rika had warned. The editorial department, led by Rika, would come after him.
After all, in the competitive world of publishing, the process didn't matter much. Rika would use any weakness to his advantage.
When that day came, Sora would have two choices: either compromise or resign from a job he had poured years of effort into.
---
Rika, driving his sports car toward his girlfriend, glanced at the popularity rankings for *Inkbolt Series* in this issue.
Seeing that *The Garden of Words* had secured third place based on the first chapter's votes, he paused for a moment to study the numbers.
Then, he smiled faintly.
"It's just a smaller publication in the Inkbolt Series," he muttered, dismissing it.
"But who is this muzushiro? At this crucial time, He has thrown their support behind Sora's project..."
Rika had initially thought he'd completely out maneuvered Sora. He had strategically persuaded or pressured the creators working with him to move to other editors.
For three months straight, five out of eight works that Sora was handling had requested to switch editors, citing his poor performance.
The remaining works were all minor series, and Sora's proposals for new works had been rejected month after month.
Rika thought he had pushed Sora into a corner.
But now, Sora had found something that had potential.
Sora had proposed The Garden of Words at the serialization meeting, and Rika had strongly opposed it, publicly calling the work "too simple" for Kurokawa's prestigious manga. He had expected other editors to back him up. After all, *Sora* was Kurokawa's flagship journal, and a newcomer's work seemed too trivial for it. But Rika had taken a more aggressive stance, dismissing it outright.
If The Garden of Words ends up performing well, Rika would have to face the consequences, no matter how he tried to spin it.
---
Ahee!
At home, Haruki Yuuki sneezed suddenly.
"Who's thinking of me?" he wondered, unaware that he was being discussed elsewhere.
Haruki had simply submitted his work to Sora through Kurokawa's official site, never anticipating that Sora would become a target in the office politics surrounding the editors.
Ding dang dang dang!
The phone rang. Haruki looked at the screen.
It was a call from Sora Aizawa.
"Hey, Sora, what's up?"
"I've told you a hundred times—just call me Sora or Sora-chan, but never 'Boss!'"
"Got it, Boss... I mean, Sora. What's going on?"
"..."
"It's nothing serious. Just wanted to let you know that today's the release of the new Inkbolt issue, and The Garden of Words's first chapter is officially out."
"Judging by the online voting results so far, I'd say it's been pretty well-received."
"As part of the industry tradition, I'm hosting a dinner to celebrate. Are you free to join?"
"A dinner?" Haruki thought for a moment.
"Sure, sounds good. I haven't eaten yet either, so I'm happy to join."
"Great! I'm downstairs waiting for you."
---
Haruki ran to the window and looked out.
Outside, Sora's car was parked on the side of the street. She was holding her phone with one hand, waving cheerfully at him with the other.
"Stop staring, come on down! I skipped lunch, and now I'm starving!" she called up to him.