"Sir, would you like this pot of the exquisite 'Spiritual Intoxication,' or this pot of the ordinary 'White Burn'?"
Runlin An, the Maple Pavilion tavern.
Behind the counter, the genial shopkeeper held up two pots of liquor with a smile, as though presenting two utterly different paths in life.
One was made of fine pottery with a soft, lustrous glaze, a faint halo of reishi shimmering around it.
The other was plain, coarse earthenware, with an almost gritty texture.
Siwei Yan's eyes were fixed on the pot of Spiritual Intoxication.
He could practically imagine its rich, mellow aroma bursting forth the instant he pulled out the wooden stopper, and its lingering, silky layers dancing over his tongue.
And by comparison, White Burn?
That stuff was nothing but alcohol mixed with soul-scorching flames! Aside from burning through his throat and emptying his wallet, it was utterly worthless!
"Gulp." Siwei Yan swallowed hard, steeled himself, and thrust a hand into his clothes. He whipped out a small cloth pouch and slapped it onto the counter with such force that he nearly tipped over the customer's cup beside him.
He poured out all the round coins with a clatter, counting them one by one with his finger.
"1,000... 2,000... 3,000! A mere 3,000 rings!" His voice rang out as he tried to cover his meager finances with sheer bravado.
But the tag on Spiritual Intoxication plainly read—8,000 rings.
The enormous gap of 5,000 rings hit him like a bucket of cold water.
Gritting his teeth, he plastered an downright ingratiating smile onto his face and leaned toward the shopkeeper.
"Shopkeeper, look... next month! Once my payment from Soul Society Communication comes in next month, I'll pay you back with interest..."
The shopkeeper looked troubled, his lips pulling into a helpless smile.
"Fifth Seat Yan Si, it's not that I won't accommodate you. Your tab here has already reached 50,000 rings."
He lowered his voice. "We're a small business. We have to make a living too."
Then his tone shifted. A glint appeared in his narrowed eyes, and his smile took on a knowing edge.
"Still... you're not like the other Seat Officers, Fifth Seat Yan Si. You're a famous bestselling author here in Runlin An now! If you're willing... well, publish three extra chapters in the Communication this week, and I'll let you add another 5,000 rings to your tab."
"Hiss—!" Yan Si sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening and his lips beginning to tremble.
"Three chapters?! Shopkeeper, you're trying to kill me! Writing stories takes serious brainpower! It needs bursts of inspiration! I drink to get myself in the right frame of mind. Do you have any idea how hard artistic creation is?"
He held up his index finger, his expression solemn. "One chapter at most! I'll grit my teeth and give you one extra chapter this week! That's my bottom line!"
"Oh, is that so?" The shopkeeper's smile vanished instantly.
He folded his arms, returning to a cold, businesslike manner. "Then that will be 8,000 rings. Thank you for your patronage. Also, please make sure to settle your outstanding balance next month."
"Oh, right. Your captain came looking for you a little while ago."
Yan Si was so furious that his finger shook as he pointed at the shopkeeper. He stammered "You, you, you" for ages without managing a complete sentence.
But what could he do when he was the one in the wrong?
He was already two weeks behind on updates, and the captain still hadn't given him a definite answer about the idea he had mentioned to the shopkeeper: collecting the serialized story into a published volume.
How could the paltry fixed payments from Soul Society Communication possibly cover liquor this good?
Besides... he really did have a bit of writer's block.
The story had reached a crucial turning point. Going any further would mean touching on material that might invite trouble.
He genuinely hesitated over whether to keep serializing it...
"Oh my, isn't this Fifth Seat Yan Si?"
A warm, mellow voice came from beside him, like a spring breeze sweeping through a bamboo grove.
Yan Si turned and saw a young Shinigami with short brown hair and black-framed glasses.
He had gentle features and a pleasantly soothing smile. Behind his lenses, his eyes were calm and deep. He wore the standard attire of a Central Spirit Arts Academy graduate, but it did little to conceal his composed, reserved bearing.
It was none other than Aizen Sōsuke.
Aizen walked calmly up to the counter and gently laid down a few banknotes, exactly enough to pay for Spiritual Intoxication.
He smiled at Yan Si and spoke modestly.
"Please allow me to pay for the liquor. A good story naturally requires its author to ponder carefully and reflect deeply. I'm very fond of the story you're currently serializing, Fifth Seat Yan Si. If you don't mind, would you do me the honor of sitting down for a proper chat over a drink?"
Without another word, Siwei Yan first seized the pot of Spiritual Intoxication and hugged it securely to his chest. Only then did his face blossom into a smile as he answered Aizen.
"Well, well! If it isn't my young friend Aizen! You're too kind! But... didn't you just graduate from the Central Spirit Arts Academy? Where did you get so much money?"
Aizen chuckled, his tone gentle yet matter-of-fact. "You flatter me, Fifth Seat. My family does qualify as minor nobility, so I have a little spending money."
"I see! A young nobleman! My apologies!" Yan Si nodded as though everything had suddenly become clear.
Unable to wait, he pulled out the stopper and breathed in the intoxicating aroma, a satisfied expression crossing his face before he hurriedly plugged it again.
He glanced around like a thief, making sure there was no captain chasing him for updates or acquaintance chasing him for debts. Then he jerked his chin toward the tavern's exit and beckoned to Aizen.
"Too many eyes and ears here. This is no place to talk. Come on, my young friend Aizen. I know a good spot! Care to join me?"
After all, the man had paid 5,000 rings. Most of that had gone toward this pot, so sharing a few cups with him was only fair.
The gaze behind Aizen's glasses brightened slightly, and his smile grew a little more sincere. "I would be honored."
They went to a small river flowing through Runlin An, not far behind the tavern, and sat on stone steps beneath a weeping willow.
Yan Si produced two small ceramic cups from somewhere, opened the pot with care, and filled them before handing one to Aizen.
Aizen gladly accepted. They exchanged smiles and gently clinked their cups.
"Cheers!"
"Please, enjoy."
Yan Si drained his cup, savoring the mellow liquor as it slipped down his throat like a warm stream of reishi, then slowly spread through his limbs and body, bringing the pleasant glow of a light buzz.
He exhaled contentedly, his breath fragrant with liquor. "Ahh—! Now this is liquor fit for a person to drink! That White Burn stuff is nothing but industrial alcohol!"
Three cups later, the atmosphere was warm and friendly.
Aizen turned an intent gaze on Yan Si and finally came to the point.
"To be honest, Fifth Seat, I've been a devoted reader of yours since my days at the Central Spirit Arts Academy. The Loneliness and Arrogance of a Genius Boy, in particular, is truly outstanding."
He paused to gather his words. The protagonist, Lan Chuan—his way of thinking, the dilemmas he faced, and the methods he used to solve problems—aligned closely with Aizen's own ideas. One could even call him a literary reflection of Aizen's inner world.
Had he not been certain it was merely a fictional novel, he might almost have believed someone had peered into his soul and written it into a book.
At first, he had suspected that Siwei Yan possessed some sort of Zanpakutō ability that could foresee the future or write destiny.
But after several "chance encounters" and probes during his academy days, he had discovered that the man seemed to have no special ability. He truly had constructed that world of genius, which resonated so deeply with Aizen, through profound insight and imagination.
And that, instead, made Aizen even more... delighted.
Because he had finally found an intellectual kindred spirit.
So Seireitei was not filled entirely with mediocrities after all.
As a fellow genius, he, Aizen Sōsuke, might not have to remain alone forever.
Of course, in terms of reiatsu, Aizen—who had already reached captain-level strength during his academy days—naturally far surpassed Fifth Seat Yan Si before him.
But on an intellectual level, Aizen considered Siwei Yan his equal.
That was far rarer than mere equality in strength.
Yet just as the recent plot reached a crucial moment, Yan Si had stopped updating for some unknown reason. This had left Aizen rather restless lately, prompting him to approach the author himself.
Aizen asked with a smile, "Now that Lan Chuan has reached the upper limit of his power and seen the barrier ahead, what method will he choose to cut open a path forward?"
Siwei Yan chuckled and filled another cup for himself, secretly muttering inwardly.
Of course! I adapted this story from yours. How could it not be good?
The plot has reached a crucial point now. Sure, the novel doesn't directly use Shinigami, Hollows, Quincy, or the like for its power levels.
But anyone who isn't an idiot can tell what the power system is alluding to.
Lan Chuan has now reached the pinnacle of Shinigami power. If I follow the story's trajectory, I'll have to write about him researching "Shinigami Hollowification" or "turning Hollows into Shinigami" to break through his current bottleneck.
But can I actually write that?
If I do, I could get hauled in for questioning before I know it!
Even if I can bluff my way through now by calling it "creative writing," once Aizen really starts researching the Hogyoku and stirring up trouble a few decades or a century from now, I'll definitely be among the ones taking the blame.
Now that the man himself has come knocking, I need to find a way to fob him off, fast.
Yan Si set down his cup, sighed softly, and raised his head to gaze at the sky.
"Tell me, just how high is this sky?"
At that, Aizen also looked up. Gazing into the pitch-black night sky, he murmured, "Perhaps not as high as we imagine."
Yan Si's eyelid twitched. As expected of Aizen—what ambition.
He collected himself and continued.
"But beneath the sky, there are far too many shackles. If Lan Chuan wants to stand above the heavens, he mustn't rush."
"Stand above the heavens?" Aizen turned back toward Yan Si, light flickering repeatedly in his eyes. After a moment, the corners of his mouth rose slightly.
"Indeed. There are too many shackles. He must take his time and make detailed plans."
At the very least, he needed to find a direction for breaking through his bottleneck, as well as a way to deal with Soul Society's constraints.
He could not rush any of those things, or all his efforts would surely come to nothing.
Aizen said admiringly, "Lan Chuan has made the right choice."
"..." Yan Si had no idea how to respond, so he chose to smile.
They looked at each other in silence, then clinked cups again and drank deeply.
Before you continue