Chapter 1: First Week of October: The Light Novel Conference

The usual members had assembled for the survival club meeting after school.

The club president, Mutsuko, stood in front of the whiteboard. The vice president, Kanako, and members Yuichi, Aiko, and Natsuki, were sitting at the table set in front of the whiteboard. Their advisor, Makina Shikitani, sat in a chair a little ways away, watching the proceedings.

Makina’s arrival had thrown the survival club into chaos, but now that things had finally calmed down, Kanako timidly raised her hand. “Um, may I ask a question, Miss Shiki— I mean, President Shikitani?”

“Yes?” Makina asked. “I assume from the fact that you’re addressing me as ‘President’ that this is publishing business, right?”

“Yes. Um... I had thought you didn’t need me as a writer anymore. But the other night, my editor contacted me and requested a new novel...” Kanako had only been made a writer because Makina had needed it for her plan. She’d stopped trying to think of plots when she’d assumed she was of no use to Makina anymore.

“Yes, Hirata did that at my direction,” said Makina. “I had a feeling that you hadn’t written anything. You really put a scare into him, you know?”

“But you said I had no talent!” Kanako cried. “That you created the company just to make me a writer!”

“Oh, I did say that you had no talent. It was a lie, though.”

Makina’s casual dismissal had Kanako at a loss for words. Didn’t she know how much those words had hurt her? They had been the primary reason she had stopped trying to write.

“Let’s set aside the circumstances under which you became a writer,” Makina said briskly. “If you had no talent, your first volume wouldn’t have sold, but the truth is, it got a good reception — and, rare for light novels nowadays, it had a long tail. In addition, regardless of my reason for setting up the company, I can’t just close it that easily. The livelihoods of my employees are riding on it.”

Makina appeared to be surprisingly responsible, in some regards.

“Very well,” Kanako said. “So I just have to write something?” Feelings swirled through Kanako’s mind, but she decided to swallow them all down. Becoming a writer had been her dream, after all.

“Of course,” said Makina. “I hope you’ll continue to contribute to the profits of my company from now on.”

“But why can’t I publish a second volume of Demon Lord? You only wanted The Half-Isekai Classroom because of your plan, didn’t you?” Kanako burst out.

She was sure it was Makina’s scheme that had resulted in the delay of the second volume’s publication. With her plans halted, there should be no issue with publishing the continuation of Demon Lord.

“No, I still want to delay Demon Lord for a while,” said Makina. “There’s a chance that Glowsphere might try to manifest again, so while it’s probably all right, I’d like to wait and observe for a little while longer. The Half-Isekai Classroom is out for the same reason.”

Glowsphere was the setting of Kanako’s novel, My Demon Lord Is Too Cute to Kill and Now the World Is in Danger!, and in the recent incident, it had begun to merge with the real world. The Half-Isekai Classroom was off limits because it was part of the same worldview.

“Oh, no...” Kanako murmured. It was just as she’d feared. She had been hoping that talking directly to the president might change the situation somehow, but it seemed it really was hopeless.

“Hey, what’s up with Orihara’s power anyway?” Yuichi broke in after listening in on the conversation in silence. “All she did was write a novel and hold a ritual, and it gave her the power to rewrite the world? Isn’t that a little extreme?”

Indeed, Kanako had wondered about that, too. She had never shown any signs of special abilities before then, and had always assumed she was an ordinary person.

“I’ll refrain from commenting on that one,” said Makina. “You told me not to use my abilities. That should include the use and sharing of information about people I’ve acquired with those abilities, shouldn’t it?”

“But you can still tell her not to write Demon Lord?” he asked.

“You could have reasoned that out from what you already know. Besides, I can’t put the world in danger by turning a blind eye to it. Keeping my silence would count as ‘bad’ by your standards, wouldn’t it?”

“But you don’t think it’s important for us to know about Orihara’s power?” he asked.

“I don’t. At the moment, there’s no need for you to know.”

“Okay.” Yuichi backed off, seeming to trust Makina’s words.

Kanako also more or less felt like she understood, and so she didn’t ask Makina anything else.

Still, knowing for sure now that she had to write something, Kanako fell back into stewing over a new plot for a story.

✽✽✽✽✽

“Okay! Today’s club meeting is a women’s self-defense class! At least, that was the original plan...” Mutsuko cut in as the conversation dwindled.

“When the atmosphere in the room turns awkward, you shout ‘Okay!’ and change the subject. In a way, it’s impressive...” Yuichi muttered.

The person with whom he’d been locked in a battle to the death not long ago, and the person who had been extremely cruel to Kanako, was now joining them as their advisor, yet Mutsuko didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Um! About that...” Kanako had fallen silent after Makina had finished speaking, but now she looked up again.

“What? It’s rare to hear you speak up, Orihara!” Mutsuko exclaimed.

“There’s something I have wanted to ask you all,” Kanako said. “I’m running out of time to think of a subject for my novel, and I don’t know what to do...”

“You’re always getting along by the skin of your teeth, Orihara...” Yuichi said. He’d thought so before too, but he had assumed she couldn’t always be this way. “But you’ve got the president of the company over there. Can’t you extend the deadline?”

Kanako’s book was being published by the company that Makina ran. It seemed to him that she should have some control over that.

“Hmm,” said Makina. “It’s true that I could extend the deadline. And since you’re irreplaceable, I couldn’t refuse you if you asked. But — and I’m not saying this just to abuse you — it’s for your own good to stick to the current one. The world of light novels moves quickly nowadays. The readers might forget about you if you spend too much time between installments, which can have an impact on sales. So if you want to keep on as a writer, trying to push your way through now is probably the best thing you can do.”

“But if you’re the president, can’t you give her any advice?” Yuichi asked.

“I’m management, not editorial. There’s not much that I can say. As president, the most I can say is that I would like you to write something that will sell.” Makina wasn’t much help, it seemed.

“Then let’s use this meeting to work together to help Orihara!” Mutsuko declared excitedly.

If she said it, that’s what they would do.

“But I thought aspiring writers always had lots of ideas,” Yuichi suggested curiously. Kanako had dreamed of becoming a writer, and had apparently written lots of stories before. He wondered why she couldn’t just adapt one of those.

“Apparently... they’re not cut out to be light novels,” Kanako drooped.

“That’s right,” Makina said. “To elaborate on that, our company mainly publishes web novels, so we know exactly how likely they are to sell. From what her supervising editor has said, none of the plots she’s submitted so far have seemed likely to sell. I looked through the plots as part of my earlier plan, too, but I don’t know much about what sells.”

“What about the Demon Lord story? That one didn’t seem like it would sell... ah, though I do like it,” Aiko asked. She was a fan of Kanako’s, and was apparently very much looking forward to the next volume.

“That one... just happened to gain popularity on the internet fiction site,” said Makina. “That’s why it’s a problem now.”

My Demon Lord Is Too Cute to Kill and Now the World Is in Danger! seemed to be the only work of hers that had gotten good reviews on the internet.

“Anyway! It’s not the content that sells a light novel, is it?” Mutsuko declared casually.

“That’s too out of nowhere!” Yuichi objected.

“But it’s true! It’s not the content that determines whether the first volume sells or not! The readers only have superficial information to go on!”

“That’s true, now that you mention it. It’s not as if they read it first, and then buy it,” Aiko said, but Yuichi wasn’t convinced.

“True... ah, but web novels still sell, and everyone knows what’s in them...” Kanako said awkwardly, apparently being unable to fully agree that the contents didn’t matter at all.

“What about putting a social game serial code on it?” Mutsuko asked. “You can unlock rare weapons or rare characters! And if you make it so they need more codes to make the weapon or character stronger, a single person might buy dozens of volumes! Oh, and put a meet-and-greet ticket in with them! Free for one handshake with the beautiful high school girl light novel author! If you include a photo of Orihara with the book, the boys will line up around the block! That’s the best way to get them to buy! They’ll buy it in droves! They won’t be able to live without it! Then, if it’s a good story, they’ll buy the later volumes, too!” Mutsuko gushed on, apparently thinking it was a great idea.

“Isn’t that a bit harsh? It’s like saying that what’s inside doesn’t matter at all.” Yuichi scowled. Kanako surely wasn’t asking for their help to do something so exploitative.

“Sakaki, I don’t have any control over that...” Kanako said.

“If you want to do it, there’s no reason why you can’t,” said Makina. “I have clout with game stores, too.”

Mutsuko’s random idea that had seemed irresponsible was suddenly given the weight of reality by Makina.

“Huh? Ahh... well... m-maybe we shouldn’t...” Kanako looked around awkwardly. She must have thought it over.

“I see... what about flame war marketing?” Mutsuko asked. “Post something people will want to attack on the internet! Then when everyone’s talking about it, you give a half-baked apology and fan the flames! You get aggregate sites and news sites up in a furor, and people start thinking ‘Fine, what did this idiot end up writing?’ It’s a great way to get sales!”

“Would you stop it with the crazy schemes?” Yuichi shouted. “Even if you got sales that way, you couldn’t keep it up!”

All that would do was ruin Kanako’s reputation. It would be one thing if the book sold, but if it didn’t, her life as a writer would be over.

“Fine, we’ll stick to the above-board!” Mutsuko said. “To get people to pick up your book, you need to appeal with the surface information! That means the packaging is important! To trigger the buying impulse of readers in the stores, you need them to know what it’s about when they just see it on the rack! In other words, you need a gimmick in the title, the cover illustration, and the obi!”

“I understand what you’re saying, but that’s something you do after you know what the story is about, right?” Yuichi asked. “Thinking about marketing doesn’t matter until the story’s decided.”

“Wrong!” Mutsuko declared. “You can come at it from another angle! Think of packaging that will sell, then come up with story to match! You can come up with the plot and the themes later, but first, you need to look at it from the point of view of ‘what kind of packaging will sell’!”

“Are you sure about this?” Yuichi looked around the room to see what the others thought.

Aiko’s jaw was dropped in shock; perhaps she had been blown back by Mutsuko’s forcefulness. As usual, Natsuki’s expression was unreadable. Makina was looking at Mutsuko with an intrigued expression on her face, while Kanako, the person most invested in all of it, appeared to be deep in thought.

“That’s true... the fact that I’m desperate enough to ask for your help does suggest that I don’t have any ideas of my own,” said Kanako. “Maybe it would be good to write based on a prompt...”

So Mutsuko’s suggestions hadn’t crushed her pride as an author? Yuichi had been worried about that, but Kanako seemed surprisingly unfazed.

“If I could weigh in?” Makina asked. “Cover design and obi are an editorial matter; not everything goes through the creative staff. But Mutsuko’s idea isn’t a bad one. And if you can attain synergy with the editorial side from the start, it just might work.”

“Synergy?” Yuichi asked, unfamiliar with the word.

“It means a team effort that leads to something better than what each individual could produce on their own. I’m speaking in business jargon. Paradigm, leverage, proactive, consensus... we love our three-syllable words.”

“I don’t suppose you could speak to my editor for me?” Kanako asked.

“I’d rather not,” said Makina. “Of course, I could give the order as a member of management, but that would reduce the editor’s motivation. He has the right to pursue his own duties however he seems fit. I don’t want to impose on that.”

It felt a bit strange hearing Makina talking like a responsible CEO. It was hard to understand how someone could have so much knowledge of how the mundane world worked, yet still set up those murder games.

“I see,” said Mutsuko. “We’d need their help with the cover and the obi, but first, the title! That’s the most important thing! If you can’t plan the cover and the obi, the right title can spark word of mouth, and viral advertising and lists! Why don’t we think up that first?”

Mutsuko wrote “Let’s think of a title!” on the whiteboard. As usual, her handwriting was ridiculously good.

“First, let’s all offer some ideas! Yu first! Whatcha got?” Mutsuko pointed straight at him.

“That’s pretty abrupt... um, let’s see... how about ‘Forte Piano’?” Yuichi asked. He had no idea what kind of title would sell, so he just pulled a phrase from his hobby, piano-playing, that he thought sounded a little stylish.

“Disqualified!” Mutsuko struck the whiteboard.

“Why?!”

“The title sounds like it has to be about classical music, and that’s not going to grab the readers’ interest. It also has a fundamental problem that you can’t hear music in a novel, which would make doing performance scenes very difficult. You’d also need a lot of specialist vocabulary to write it, and it would get very tedious.”

“You can’t know that!” Yuichi exclaimed. “Even if piano is the theme, The Perfect World of Kai and Your Lie in April both sell. How can it be bad for a novel but okay for a manga?” Yuichi felt a bit miffed about having his suggestion shot down so abruptly.

“You can hear music in a manga!” Mutsuko answered forcefully. “It says so in Even a Monkey Can Draw Manga!”

“Then you think up a title, Sis!”

“Good point!” she exclaimed. “I can’t just shoot you down without coming up with an idea myself! Let’s see... we want to pull from titles popular on the internet now... and catchy, too...”

Mutsuko thought for a moment, then, as if getting together her thoughts, wrote on the whiteboard:

“When I Saw the Most Beautiful Girl in Class Being Sold as a Slave...”

“That’s way too harsh!” Yuichi found himself bolting to his feet.

“Really? I’d be incredibly curious to hear what it was about!”

“But Orihara is the one who’d have to write the story!” Yuichi looked at Kanako. She was sitting there, mouth hanging open, and apparently surprised by the suggestion.

Aiko’s face turned red, as if it had triggered certain thoughts in her mind. Natsuki was, as usual, expressionless, while Makina was trying to stifle a laugh.

Kanako was calmer than he’d expected. “Sakaki... it does feel rather catchy, but I feel like it’s missing something.”

“Good point... it’s from the protagonist’s point of view, but it does sound like the material might be limited... how about this, then?” Mutsuko added to the title.

“When I Saw the Most Beautiful Girl in Class Was Sold as a Slave... (I Got a Part-Time Job!)”

“He’s planning to buy her?!” Yuichi yelped.

“Yes! The protagonist is going to try to buy the girl! It’s a simple, easy-to-understand goal!”

“That is never going to sell!” he shouted.

“You think? It would sell a lot more than yours, Yu!”

“You don’t know that!” he exclaimed. “Is it really that bad?!”

“Light novel titles are something you need to put thought into!” she told him. “What about you, Noro? Do you have anything?”

“Ah, let me see. I’ve been looking at quite a few...” Aiko seemed to have been looking them up on her smartphone. “I put together some popular keywords. How about ‘I Was Reincarnated in an Isekai With My Class and I’m Raising a Cheat Harem to Explore Dungeons’?”

“Noro... you...” Yuichi looked at Aiko in exasperation.

“Noro... that’s a classic bad pattern, you know?” said Mutsuko.

“Huh? Is it?”

“It’s okay to put popular keywords together,” Mutsuko said. “But what you’ve done is dilute the theme. Isekais, reincarnation, and harems go together, but cheats and raising don’t mesh, and doing a class reincarnation story might make it hard to tell all the characters apart.”

Mutsuko’s criticism of Aiko’s idea was much more gentle than her treatment of Yuichi’s. He felt a little annoyed by the favorable treatment.

“I see...” Aiko mused, then turned to Natsuki, who had snorted at her suggestion. “Fine, Takeuchi, do you have anything?!”

Natsuki, who had otherwise been listening quietly, spoke up. “Those long titles are so predictable. I stopped listening to it halfway through. Here, then, is my suggestion.”

Natsuki stood and walked towards the whiteboard. Then, she wrote:

Massacre.

“That’s totally not a light novel title!” Yuichi shouted. It just evoked images of a series of tragic, blood-soaked scenes. Certainly there were light novels with high body counts, and one had even been a big hit in the past, but it would be hard to repeat that success.

“I see... You rarely see light novels with just one-word titles nowadays, so it could stand out...” Mutsuko put a finger to her chin, looking rather intrigued.

“If we want short, how about this?!” Aiko exclaimed.

“.”

Rebelliously, Aiko wrote a single dot on the whiteboard. Just a period, nothing more.

“That’s... also actually pretty good, surprisingly,” said Mutsuko. “Sort of like striking down a full stop. It’s cool.”

Yuichi found himself walking forward and wrote his own suggestion: “fp”.

“That’s just an abbreviation for ‘Forte Piano’! Why are you so obsessed with that?!” Mutsuko exclaimed.

“Why do you only object to my suggestions?!”

✽✽✽✽✽

Kanako watched blankly as the club argued with each other.

I guess this won’t work after all...

She had asked the others for help, but it didn’t look like this was something that could be settled by committee.

She would just have to write the novel by herself, without shunting the task to anyone else.

Kanako swore that she would do the best she could.