"Hey." The hotel staff member in charge of handling things shook his head again and muttered to himself, "I wonder whose kid that is. Could they be an enemy of your publishing house, sent here to cause trouble...?"
The other bigwigs were also mingling in small groups. Only then did Sogo Doma realize he still couldn't join in their conversations. Chatting about a few classics before a meeting was practically an unspoken rule for showing off in literary circles.
Unspoken rules were fine as long as nobody broke them. But once they did...
In fairy tales, The Emperor's New Clothes showed only a child's innocence and willingness to speak the truth. In real life, though, all that awaited him would be a very real gallows.
Did they really think there were no smart people in the story? The smart people understood, but kept quiet and played it safe.
A little while later.
Quite a few authors began sizing Sogo Doma up. They seemed to be trying to identify him by his looks, and some of the bolder ones even whispered bets to people they knew.
Faced with this, Sogo Doma was incredibly excited. "It's happening, it's happening! The moment when a plagiarist gets to show off and slap everyone in the face! Could it be that I was wrong all along? Maybe I really am the protagonist?"
"How do I pull off this act in style?"
"If I'm going down the plagiarism route, I should develop ACG... No, I should build myself up as a great literary master and rise to the top of life!"
Three minutes later.
"Ugh, what a hassle. Why do I have to establish myself as a great literary master? Isn't it better to casually plagiarize a few things and collect royalties? And wouldn't it be more profitable to take those royalties to the stock market and gobble up the little fish?" Sogo Doma, whose enthusiasm lasted all of three minutes, had already started overturning his earlier assumptions.
What happened next proved that Sogo Doma had been overthinking things in certain respects.
After all, before they knew what was going on or had figured out Sogo Doma's identity, the sort of people who would jump out and start shouting, boldly challenging everything, only existed in novels.
In reality, these people might have seemed rather unprofessional, but every one of them was highly educated and had plenty of degrees to their names.
They all made their living with their writing and imagination. Nobody could pull a fast one on them—and anyone who could show up at an internal publishing-house gathering and brazenly break an unspoken rule had to have some standing. They wouldn't believe otherwise themselves.
Those with bigger imaginations had already figured out how to turn this into a mystery.
Those with smaller imaginations were still guessing. "I heard they invited people from XX Publishing House today. Could the kid have come with them?"
They couldn't help it. They were all mystery writers; without a good imagination, they'd starve. Some had even started writing a whole tale of feuds between the major publishing houses in their heads, all centered on Sogo Doma's appearance.
Whatever they imagined, matters between publishing houses had nothing to do with them. It was fine to gossip, but as for standing up for their own publishing house, all the major houses were present. Who knew whose toes they might step on?
Besides...
He was just a kid. If he came from an important family, they could write it off as childish ignorance. Hadn't plenty of people held back, with only a few bigwigs asking, "Whose kid is that?"
They weren't stupid. Better to see how the publishing house handled this unexpected situation.
But one thing was certain—the kid was a real pain for his parents. If their own child offended that many bigwigs in the industry, they'd break his legs.
A few minutes later, the hotel staff member who had gone out to look for someone still hadn't returned, but editor Yamagami had arrived.
"Hey!" At last, Sogo Doma saw someone he knew and raised a hand to greet him.
He felt like he had a talent for drawing attention. He'd barely opened his mouth before he'd drawn everyone's eyes again.
Seeing the direction of Sogo Doma's greeting, the authors all turned to look.
"Is that kid editor Yamagami's?"
"What is editor Yamagami up to?"
"Is the publishing house planning to interfere with the established rules?"
"I heard Matsumoto's Blue Moon Era sold poorly because it was too close to traditional literature..."
"Could this be a warning from the publishing house?"
"Heh. They're pushing out some nobody of a kid..." someone sneered.
"The publishing house only cares about sales. I hear traditional literature is having a rough time lately."
"Nonsense! I love mystery novels, but I know that only traditional fiction can save Japan's literary scene!" An older author glared at the person beside him, his whiskers bristling.
"Exactly! Especially now, when someone has even created the kind of trash called light novels..."
The more they talked, the angrier they became. Some even glared at editor Yamagami.
Unaware of any of this, Yamagami felt a chill run down his spine. He hurried over to Sogo Doma. "Gyojin, what happened?"
"Hmm!" Sogo Doma put both hands behind his head. "Basically, it's a bunch of people who want to break into traditional literature but can't find a way in. Then they look behind themselves, decide they're superior, and start complaining..."
Yamagami was sweating profusely. That was enough, Gyojin-sensei! He'd already learned over the phone that the man had a nasty personality, but why was he even worse in person? Could he really say things like that so casually?
Before Sogo Doma could finish, the man who had just asked whose kid he was cut in.
"Editor Yamagami, I'd like to know: is this your idea, or the publishing house's?"
"Teacher Kimura, I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean." Yamagami straightened up.
"This kid's words—are they your idea, or the publishing house's?"
"Uh!" Yamagami was utterly bewildered, but he hurriedly wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Teacher Kimura, I forgot to introduce him. This is Gyojin-sensei, and he's also with our publishing house..."
"Ridiculous!" The domineering bigwig cut him off again. "Editor Yamagami, this isn't a place for light-novel writers who've written a couple of compositions."
"Yes!" Yamagami bowed repeatedly. "But, Teacher Kimura, Gyojin-sensei is about to publish a mystery novel!"
Kimura: "??"
Everyone: "@_@"
Hey, hey, they'd heard of genius light-novel writers, but genius mystery writers...
Unlike light novels, where romance was everything, a mystery novel needed more than just a plot. It needed a structure and clues, too. You could say that writing and publishing a mystery novel was a battle of wits with the readers.
And now they were being told that a twelve- or thirteen-year-old kid was going to pit his wits against readers. Did he even know all his letters yet?
"Brrring, brrring..."
Before the others had finished reacting, a shrill ringtone rang out.
"Excuse me, I need to take this." Kimura glanced at the caller ID, bowed apologetically, and hurried out of the room.
By then, the authors had recovered from their shock. At least, nobody crowded around to gawk.
Still, every so often someone quietly asked editor Yamagami, "Yamagami, has the publishing house gone crazy? They're publishing a mystery written by a twelve- or thirteen-year-old?"
What had they been doing at that age? Probably playing soccer. Forget writing mysteries—they'd even blushed at the sight of a girl from the class next door.
"Bang!"
As they were talking, someone suddenly shoved the hall doors open. Kimura, who had just gone outside, came back with a livid expression. "Editor Yamagami, I need to ask you something."
Yamagami felt his head ache. If only he'd helped Gyojin-sensei turn down this gathering when it had first been arranged.
Before you continue