(Narrator: Hikaru Sano)
There's a special kind of fear that exists in the world. Some fear heights. Others fear the dark. But true terror? That's an email from your editor at 3 AM with the subject line:
"Where. Is. The. Manuscript."
Now, to the untrained eye, this might seem like a simple question. But for a novelist, this is a summoning ritual. The next email will either be an extension (unlikely) or a threat disguised as professional encouragement (highly likely).
And so, here I am, staring at my screen, the blinking cursor mocking me like an unpaid intern. The chapter is due, my brain is empty, and the only idea I've had in the last three hours is, "What if I just fake my own death?"
Spoiler: I can't. Because my editor will find me.
I slam my head onto the keyboard in despair when—
BAM.
The door swings open.
(Narrator switch: Miyuki Hoshino)
Let's play a game. It's called "How Badly Is My New Boss Failing at Life?" The answer? Very.
I step into what I assume was once a human's living space. Now? It's an ecosystem of energy drink cans, snack wrappers, and broken dreams. In the center of this disaster is Hikaru Sano, age 18, a so-called 'professional writer' currently face-planting his keyboard like it's a romantic reunion.
"Are you dead?" I ask. "Or just embracing the void?"
He lifts his head, blinking like an ancient tortoise waking from hibernation. "Who are you?"
I drop my bag on his desk. "Miyuki Hoshino. Your new assistant. You hired me. Remember?"
He squints. "That doesn't sound like something I'd do."
I pull out my phone, scrolling to the most recent message he sent me. I read it out loud:
"PLS HELP. DEADLINES. SUFFERING. PAY YOU IN FOOD. – Hikaru Sano."
He groans, rubbing his face. "Ah. Right. Desperation. That tracks."
Welcome to my new job. I am so getting a raise for this.