After the interview and photo shoot were completed, Peter looked relieved. And no wonder – he had finally been able to speak openly about himself. Years spent running away, burdened by the title of a "fallen genius." Times when he'd hide if he thought he heard someone badmouthing him.
"But things have to be different from now on."
Peter resolved firmly, declaring he would no longer surrender to unfounded criticism. No matter how powerful his opponent, he was ready to stand up and fight back. After all, he was the director of The Great Car Thief. He ought to at least be that strong.
Peter's confidence was contagious, and I couldn't help but feel better alongside him. It was as we were leaving Queensman, both smiling, that he turned to me.
"This issue of the magazine…"
"Yeah?"
"I went all out on the interview since I was inspired, but I'm worried no one will read it this time."
"…What?"
"I saw the notice earlier – they're going to stop distributing it at school. So the students might not get to see it…"
Was he really worrying about that? He must have caught my expression.
"Got a plan?"
"What, did you think I hadn't thought of that already?"
"As expected, there's no need to worry about Park Ji-hoon!"
The night streets of London shone brightly with our laughter.
***
Meanwhile, far away in Japan, some people were going through a grueling time. With the deadline for Capsulemon approaching, Tajiri was on a relentless grind, pulling all-nighters every day. Of course, Tajiri was Capsulemon's creator, so it was somewhat expected.
"…."
But why was Suzuki dozing off beside him?
There was only one reason: thanks to Park Ji-hoon's strong recommendation, Suzuki and Tajiri had started working together! Suzuki had a great depth of storytelling but struggled with the pace of serialization. Tajiri, on the other hand, had plenty of ideas but lacked experience. Park Ji-hoon had thought they'd create an incredible synergy by combining their strengths.
"Senpai? Are you sleeping?"
Suzuki could barely keep up and was having a hard time.
"Time to get up now."
"Ten minutes… just ten more minutes."
"You've been saying that for the past thirty minutes."
"Well, I'm sleep-deprived because I'm not getting any rest at night."
"You're the one who said it, Senpai – that we must keep our promises to the readers, no matter what."
"I said that?"
"Yes, you did."
"…"
"If you sleep all you want, how will you keep your promises to the readers?"
Despite Suzuki's half-closed eyes, Tajiri continued his lecture.
"Are you planning to turn in a half-finished manuscript with nothing done perfectly?"
"Am I hearing things…?"
"Nope, you heard right. If you keep slacking off like this, you'll end up taking breaks all the time."
"If there's a reason, taking a break once in a while isn't the end of the world."
"Just sit up for now. If you really feel like you're going to die, I'll call an ambulance. Just draw even one line before the paramedics arrive. Remember, you told me… A true artist must…"
"You're not doing this just to torture me, are you?"
"The more an artist suffers, the happier the readers become!"
"Are you a reader?"
No matter how much Suzuki grumbled,
"Here, take the pen."
Nothing could stop Tajiri's determination. All Suzuki, who had been looking forward to a long, indefinite rest after the serialization, could do was let out a long, weary sigh.
***
That evening, a post appeared on the first-year students' message board.
[Breaking News] - Due to the student council's decision, Queensman Magazine will no longer be supplied to the Royal School. Instead, the same quantity will be redirected to Westminster School.
The board erupted with responses.
"Is this for real?"
"The student council's decision is a fact, right? Even if sending it to Westminster isn't certain, it's confirmed that we won't be getting it here."
"Are they out of their minds? Do they think they're teachers? Who gave the student council the right to make these kinds of calls?"
Amidst the outcry, a calm post appeared.
"It doesn't make sense to blindly follow a student council decision. The first-year student council hasn't even been formed yet. Expecting us to follow a senior's decision without our opinions being considered is unfair."
"Hear, hear!"
Then, another post from the same IP appeared.
"My frustration isn't just about the magazine subscription. It's about whether the first-years' opinions are represented. I'll bring this issue about procedural unfairness up to the principal. Anyone want to join me?"
"What do we need to do?"
"There's a suggestion box, right? In front of the principal's office."
But not everyone immediately jumped on board. Posting online was one thing; submitting a handwritten opinion in the suggestion box was another. Besides, this was a decision led by the second-years. It made sense to be cautious and avoid unnecessary trouble.
However, that reluctance didn't last long.
[Breaking News] - It's confirmed that they really did deliver it to Westminster School.
"I heard from a friend, too. I asked what happened to
"This is insane."
"So where's the suggestion box again?"
Later that night, the hallway in front of the principal's office was reportedly filled with footsteps. And a few days later…
A new notice was posted at the principal's discretion:
"It has been confirmed that the first-year students' opinions were not taken into account in the student council's decision. Therefore, the restriction on the magazine's distribution does not apply to the first-year students."
The following day, another notice appeared:
"Queensman distribution will resume for first-year students only. The distribution location remains the same as before."
Heh. This is why there's no need to worry about me. See? My peers fought for it themselves. Of course, I had planted a few people among them… ahem.
Anyway, having won this right by standing up to the upperclassmen, the first-years' appreciation for the magazine will surely deepen…
"I'm looking forward to this," I thought, smiling in anticipation of tomorrow.
***
Perhaps because it was exclusively supplied to first-years, my classmates rushed to the classroom early in the morning. The atmosphere was lively, and everyone eagerly immersed themselves in the magazine, cherishing this hard-won reunion with it.
Almost as if by agreement, they all started with Dragon Ball. Since most of this week's chapter was action scenes, some even finished reading it in just a minute.
"This leaves me wanting more."
For friends like these, I had something prepared: three chapters of
I'd obtained them by, well, squeezing it out of Tajiri and Suzuki. Some might find the slightly childish characters off-putting, but my classmates, eager for more content, began reading
I observed their reactions with cautious curiosity.
"…"
Maybe they were just warming up to the new story, as there was little conversation at first. The encouraging sign, though, was that everyone was silently turning pages. By the time they reached the end of the third chapter, there were a fair number of comments about how refreshing the concept was or how cute the characters were. Some of the girls even reacted more positively to
"Thank goodness."
Even after finishing the comics, my classmates didn't put down the magazine.
"Hey, there's an interview with the
"And the director of
Then, they spotted a certain name.
"Huh? Peter Vindt?"
"What? Why is he being interviewed?"
"Where? Where is it?"
Soon, the sound of pages flipping filled the air. I glanced carefully at Peter, who was sitting beside me. Was he nervous about what our peers would say? His face was redder than ever, though he had boldly agreed to the interview.
"…"
Meeting everyone's gaze must have felt overwhelming. He probably wanted to dash out of the classroom right then and there. But he couldn't keep running forever. Peter gritted his teeth and stubbornly stayed put. If someone with a fear of heights went bungee jumping, they'd probably look just like him at that moment.
Fortunately, Peter's effort wasn't wasted; no one spoke carelessly about him. Perhaps out of awkwardness, no one approached him directly like they did when Jack's photo appeared.
Instead, they showed a distant but noticeable sense of remorse, a silent acknowledgment of the judgment they'd passed without truly understanding him. Of course, people are fickle; it might have helped that Peter's interview appeared alongside those of other notable figures, or that he wore the specially crafted outfit and styled hair that Faber had prepared for him. This change in style might have also swayed some opinions in his favor.
But whatever the reason, as long as it meant Peter could enjoy a smoother school life!
While I was lost in these thoughts, a few classmates noticed Tennessee's photo in the magazine.
"T-Tennessee is their first customer?"
"Really?"
"Has he already figured out where the store is?"
They seemed eager to know the location of the shop. You'd think they could just go and ask Tennessee directly. But…
"…"
No one dared approach him. If they avoided Peter out of guilt, they now hesitated around Tennessee out of a different kind of discomfort.
He was a peer, sure, and they were in the same advanced class. But somehow, he felt even more intimidating than an upperclassman. So they just murmured from afar, not one of them willing to approach Tennessee. As this strange silence persisted, Tennessee, perhaps sensing the awkwardness, rose from his seat. Maybe he was just frustrated and wanted to get some fresh air, as there was still plenty of time before class started.
But then, instead of heading for the exit, he turned and walked straight toward me.
"Huh?"
It wasn't my imagination. His gaze was fixed on me. Reaching my side, he held out the magazine and quietly asked,
"This is your work, isn't it?"
"What?"
"The magazine, the brand featured inside, even the store where it's displayed."
"…"
"Isn't all of this your doing?"
***
"All of it is the work of Park Ji-hoon."
That's what Gilbert McGill, the lawyer, intended to report. But the shouting from beyond the door made him reconsider. Carl was reprimanding the marketing team.
"Look at this! Their first customer is Tennessee Grosvenor! I hired you for marketing, so what exactly have you all been doing?"
"…"
If he reported now that both the magazine and the concept store were Park Ji-hoon's creations, Carl wouldn't just lose his temper; he'd make reckless business decisions. And then all the blame would inevitably fall on the support staff.
"Am I supposed to take the fall again?"
Sighing deeply, Gilbert decided to leave Carl's office discreetly.
Leona Harris, the head of Harris Department Store Group and Carl's mother, was known to be more level-headed. That's why Gilbert chose to approach her instead. After thoroughly reviewing the documents, Leona slowly looked up.
"So that's why my son has been stirring things up so much lately. It's because of this young man?"
"Yes, that's correct."
The documents contained additional details about Park Ji-hoon that she hadn't been aware of: that he ran a game company with a strong cash flow, making the magazine and concept store pursuits nothing more than hobbies. And that, thanks to his considerable financial resources, he even held the secondary rights to Dragon Ball.
"It seems that his impressive career is quite dazzling for a teenage boy, which may be why your son keeps paying attention to him…"
"Are you suggesting my son considers this young man a rival?"
"Well, that's…"
"That's not what you're implying, is it?"
If he only saw him as a rival, that would be fortunate; at this point, he's more like an adversary. But how could Gilbert reveal this truth in such a setting? He chose to remain silent.
"My son has had a strong sense of morality since he was young. Whenever he saw litter on the street, he would always stop to pick it up. Isn't he still the same?"
In other words, far from seeing him as a rival, he's treating Park Ji-hoon as the "trash" he feels obliged to remove?
Sigh. And here he thought Leona was a reasonable person.
"What's your opinion on this?" she asked, despite the answer already being evident.
"…"
Gilbert could only nod with an awkward expression.