Self-Questioning

Production management is a grueling position. Not only must one manage specific schedules and budgets, but one is also responsible for a mountain of trivial tasks, all while bearing pressure from every direction. The complaints Gu Xue heard in the restroom that day were merely a microcosm of the situation production managers face.

This was even with Mihara Chisa being experienced and assertive. Even if the staff were dissatisfied, they only dared to grumble in the shadows. While her aggressive and unreasonable nature was annoying, it did provide her with certain conveniences. If it were a different production manager, given how the episode directors were acting so recklessly, they would easily collapse under the multi-faceted pressure without a heart of steel.

Therefore, in the position of production manager, one either persists or quits after a short stint.

Even those who manage to persist sometimes feel like dying, because in some ways, they have it even harder than the animators, and pulling all-nighters is a daily occurrence.

There are plenty of production managers like Mihara Chisa who go out in the middle of the night to collect and deliver key animation frames.

Because time waits for no one.

Drowsy driving and the like are also normal.

It is no longer news for many production managers to collapse on the road due to exhaustion; there is even a specific term to describe this situation.

If only the production manager collapses, it is called "pugei" (crashing).

If the outsourced key animators or in-between animators collapse along with the production manager, it is called "kam-ga-chaan" (total wipeout).

The terminology is a bit absurd, but it truly captures the bitterness of the job.

Mihara Chisa is awake right now, but her current situation is not just a "total wipeout"—it is even more severe.

A strong gust of wind scattered the key animation frames, and the rain soaked them all. Six full cuts, and not a single one can be used.

Drawing on paper has many advantages, but it also has many drawbacks. The biggest drawback is that it is fragile, and before it is scanned, there is absolutely no backup.

Five minutes after leaving, Mihara Chisa knocked on the door again.

Bo Wen stood in the hallway, looking at the hunched, bedraggled Mihara Chisa. He listened to her explanation calmly, showing no anger. Instead, he said in a slightly worried tone, "Why don't you take a shower here first? Change into some clean clothes. Wait a moment, I'll go wake my wife up."

"Mr. Bo Wen, there's no need." Mihara Chisa kept her head down, her expression unreadable, her voice very soft.

"..." Mr. Bo Wen, who was about to turn around, stopped and gave a wry smile. He understood what she meant and said softly, "I usually have a good habit of remembering things, but you were in too much of a hurry. Although the images are still in my mind, I can't guarantee I can redraw them. When is the deadline?"

"Before midnight." Mihara Chisa's voice was even softer.

"..." Bo Wen wore a troubled expression. "I have two high-difficulty action cuts on hand that need to be finished, and the time is equally tight. I..."

The hunched Mihara Chisa did not speak, only lowered her head further.

"How about this." Bo Wen sighed. "After I finish those two action cuts, I'll contact you. If you still can't find anyone to draw them, I'll do everything in my power to get them done. I can't guarantee the quality... or even if I can finish them at all. I can only say I'll try my best. Also, you will still need to find a key animator for the second key frames; the time is just too tight."

Mihara Chisa pursed her lips and said hoarsely, "Thank you."

Water droplets ran down her cheeks and landed on the floor, shattering upon impact. It was impossible to tell if they were raindrops or something else.

"You should change into some clean clothes here..." Bo Wen said softly, but was interrupted halfway through.

"Thank you." Mihara Chisa said hoarsely again, then suddenly straightened her back and turned around quickly. She was so hurried that the glistening things in the corners of her eyes were flung away.

"Wait, that girl at your company with the excellent drawing skills—the young one you mentioned—isn't she almost done with her work? You could..."

Bo Wen raised his voice slightly, intending to offer an idea; it seemed he wasn't very confident himself.

But Mihara Chisa could no longer hear anything. She bolted out the door, not even taking her umbrella.

Outside the door.

The wind and rain were still fierce. Mihara Chisa walked into the storm.

Thank you, no need, it's not that much trouble, I'll consider it, please don't cause trouble for others.

Every word she had said echoed in her mind. The one that appeared most often was the "it's not that much trouble" she had just used to refuse Bo Wen's offer to see her out.

Mihara Chisa clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into her palms, but she didn't seem to notice.

With what kind of mindset did she say those words? What right did she have to think everyone else was meddling, and what right did she have to think she was enough on her own?

How ugly she must have looked begging others just a moment ago, and when she impatiently refused help, had she ever thought such a thing would happen? Why did she still have the face to ask others for help!

She had unilaterally refused help, then unilaterally begged for it; why did she have to act like that in the beginning?

She kept telling others not to cause trouble, yet in the end, she was the one causing trouble for everyone. Who exactly was the one with the problem!

What on earth was wrong with her?

Mihara Chisa stood outside the car door, asked herself this, then sniffled hard and pulled the door open with force.

Then, at a speed that would surely make anyone else urge her to slow down, she sped off toward the company.

The roar of the car engine even drowned out the heavy sound of the torrential rain.

She returned to the company safely.

Mihara Chisa got out of the car and jogged back to her desk. Covered in mud and water stains, she truly gave her colleagues still in the office a fright. However, everyone hesitated, exchanged glances, and thinking of her usual demeanor, they all chose to remain silent, not stepping forward to ask what had happened.

Mihara Chisa couldn't care about them either. She placed her water-damaged, unusable phone on the edge of the desk and, relying on her memory, began to make calls using the company's landline.

Her voice was very soft, but many people heard what she said.

No one wore a gloating expression. Everyone was an adult with enough emotional intelligence, and many even showed expressions of sympathy, though it was impossible to know how much of it was sincere.

She made several calls in a row, but the replies were all similar. Some people were already asleep and, having been woken up, roared at Mihara Chisa with great irritation. The gist was: Don't you have a watch? Don't you look at the time? Do you know what time it is?

Mihara Chisa apologized, then made her request.

The reply she got was to stop joking.

After making the last phone call she could remember, only one person accepted her reckless request—not for the whole job, just for a single cut.

In less than twenty hours, six full cuts was a task that was practically impossible to complete.

Bo Wen was merely trying to comfort her.

Mihara Chisa knew this very well, which was why she had started making calls the moment she returned.

Yet, even for just a single cut, there were few people willing to take on the work, because everyone else's situation was much the same as Bo Wen's.

Mihara Chisa hung up the phone; because she was soaked to the bone, the blast of the air conditioner made her feel colder and colder, her body began to tremble slightly, and she started to experience headaches and dizziness.

Mihara Chisa tried her best to endure the discomfort, looking down at the desk and struggling to think of anyone else who might be willing to take the job, but unfortunately, there was no one left.

Finally, she raised her head and stared at the names of the key animators on the computer screen's schedule, an unnatural flush appearing on her face as she clenched her left hand into a fist.

Thank you to Lantern Grass Under the Moon, Fool's Ending, Book Friend 22247, and Kamen Rider for the tips, thank you.