Afterword

“You aren’t meant to be a novelist.”

February. My feet had brought me to a hidden corner of the city…

Before me stood a fishy-looking elderly lady. She never glanced up from the scraps of paper on the table before her.

This was a famous fortune-teller—famous enough to be on TV.

My first novel was getting published soon, and I was nervous about it—so when I heard about her, I paid a little visit.

I took a seat on an ordinary chair, giddy as a little kid, and handed over a page filled out with necessary information—like a job application. A few minutes later, a printer spit out some scraps.

The words above are what she told me. Can you blame me for frowning?

The fortune-teller claimed I hadn’t been born under a creative star. If I chose to live as a novelist, I was going to face many trials and tribulations in my future.

Then she held out a hand for payment. Still scowling, I paid and left.

I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, let out a sigh that hung visible in the cold air, and looked up at the night sky above.

Fine. A new challenge in my thirties…even getting published at all was a stroke of luck.

I never thought it would be easy. But I’m going to prove I can succeed.

My hands balled into fists that stayed in my pockets all the way home.

A year later…

…I was balding.

That fortune came true! This wasn’t the kind of trial or tribulation I’d expected at all. I never imagined she was talking about the hair on my scalp… You gotta laugh.

Good work, Toshio Satou. Stress gave you a bald spot.

It wasn’t hair loss from age but rather a temporary condition…but if it never gets better, who can tell the difference? I’d best get to my acknowledgments before I start really crying.

Nao Watanuki—thank you for the beautiful illustrations. When I first saw Micona, she instantly jumped near the top of the characters I personally would want to marry. Obviously, Lloyd has a lock on number one.

Hajime Fusemachi—thank you again for the magnificent manga adaption. It’s the thing I look forward to most every month.

To my editor, Maizo—I’m sorry for all the trouble. This time, I promise to do everything I can to present you a manuscript you can approve in the first round. (If I succeed, can you give me a reward?)

To all my colleagues, thanks for your words of advice. I keep forgetting I’m a writer. Being able to discuss our work and outlines has been truly invaluable.

To all my readers, thank you for picking up my books.

I hope we’ll meet again in the next volume.

From the writer afraid of his daily shower,

TOSHIO SATOU