[For following the rules of this platform this scene is cut from from this chapter]
"I just really like your...." It was a double-edged compliment and a critique. The president held the back of her neck and pulled her hair.
"Ahhhhhhh..." The fingers of the reader cracked as he pressed on them, stretching the numbing feeling in his fingers. Their eyelids slowly closed, but not from the cold wind coming from the ventilation. God knows what the hell they looked like and did before reading these words?
Midori always handled situations like this. As a reader, he always had the first view of the drafts, but as an editor, he polishes and oversees the things the writer expresses while also attending to the blue-colored pencil lines on the paper with green squares and numeric numbers that serve as a guide to print the manga panel drafts, which are safely placed in a brown envelope. Yet this person in front of him was one of the omniscient gods. Everyone knew him in the office, where no one spoke about him unless he allowed it.
Midori rubbed his hands, trying to generate warmth from the friction to ease his discomfort over the head's comment about his talent, Haneul. God knows he often distracted himself by looking over the lines of the hand-drawn posters around the asymmetrically shaped office, as if this hadn't been planned in the building from the start. Of course, he knew this would happen; Midori realized that's why he couldn't help but look in different directions around him: the tiny cobwebs that were left uncleaned in the corners, the slight light coming from the window blinds, and the piled-up manuscripts. The editor had known all along that this was a bad idea, yet he also recognized that the head would acknowledge that his recruit's idea was significant, and he truly believed it would catch the readers' attention as he did, too.
"Midori, what do you plan to do with this?" The head tossed it onto the table, just enough for it not to slip or be considered an angry gesture. His eyes stared down at the paper with the drafts that were placed on the table.
"I don't know. This is heavy." It was the truth; Midori was cornered with this reality once again. "I think we should change the names and create a fictional country." A simple remedy, yet it could cost a lot more than that. "We could even add some mystical and supernatural elements so that it'll be unrecognizable." He bit the back of his lip and lightly chewed on it, one of his knees could not stop going up and down as if shaking, yet he wasn't nervous. "It's the least we editors can do." The head frowned, looking down at a figurine with five black circles and three ribbons on its head to avoid a lawsuit against a company.
"You always know the implications of this when it gets published," his superior sighed, retrieving a handkerchief from the pockets of his pitch ink-stained blue trousers. "This can harm you..." He points at Midori, "and that guy who drew this." His finger drifts across the paper, inadvertently snapping as it settles on a hand-drawn landscape, ink splotches masterfully depicting multiple hand-sewn puppets engaging in activities typical of a small village, where the vast mountains loomed in the background. "And what he represents."
"Mido, your child likes to pursue things that could get him into trouble. God knows that your creative child could make some manga out of real ones that—hah." He can't even articulate this one, yet the image of Haneul preparing to trudge alongside other young mangakas for research and inspiration like the one he drew—the province where townspeople were replaced by dolls—flashes before his mind. "His works will get banned. Pushing these boundaries so far could hurt anyone. Fiction always has borders in reality. It is our job to maintain that border." Frowning, his pointing finger directed at the defaced mangas and folders of manuscripts scattered on the floor near the door. "Despite having emotions and feelings rooted in reality, there are things a writer shouldn't cross. The borders of fiction are slowly thinning because of that word: creativity and truth-seeking aspirations of every author. Warn your child, or he'll soon become like those." These were the example mangas he kept in mind, aware of the authorities. He only had access to them once a month—just a sample for artists daring to pursue that path, a warning, and these were the echoes of those who dared to be innovative, creative, and so on. "Stories influence readers as much as we don't like to admit. Your child needs to learn this now before his case worsens." He exhaled sharply, "I know why you tried to submit this to me, but I hope you understand that one day you're drawing something about your feelings, and the next day it turns into a political art piece being discussed. It's better for them not to be curious about these." The reader rubbed his cheek, deeply sure it would jeopardize the mangaka's career.
"Writers... no, all creatives are built that way. These manga artists I chose are ones I believe will be prominent names, if not now, in the future." Midori affectionately referred to his manga artists as children, influenced by people calling him a child during his college days in the Filipino community. "Especially now, they are more sexually open about things and other topics. Not like before, you know, the difficulties of debuting a manga with a female protagonist in a shōnen one, just because shōnen was 'made for young boys.' I always thought it was limiting."
"Hah... you do know that this man has encountered good ones too." The head smiled as he touched the block of wood with his name, Katsuki Hotaka, before sitting back in his office chair. It reflected the status in which he had been raised. It was old, yet Hotaka always viewed it as a sacrifice he made to attain that position. He even dismissed good ideas that he believed were innovative and futuristic. As a consumer of stories, it was rather disappointing to shut those down. "The only platform those people can now run to is being independent artists and publishing online for free. It won't earn them much money or a larger audience without putting it on a popular site. The chances of gaining popularity through art are slim with all talents being saturated in one place." Katsuki is an editor and was a former mangaka and mangaka assistant; he knows the industry well.
He tossed the block to Midori. Although Midori struggled to catch it, he picked it up from the floor and held it. "Why throw that, sir? I could get hurt—" Katsuki Hotaka only laughed loudly. "Well, do better to catch it. Because soon enough, you'll have that kind of block with your name on it." The head placed a new plastic one on his desk, still with his name, and ripped off the plastic that covered it. "Midori, times change. I may have done something significant to raise our company's value, and right now, new companies like ours are emerging. Save these drafts. They'll be important for future generations—as you can see. Who knows, it could be a bestseller." Katsuki opened the paper bag with the food that Midori bought as a token of thanks for at least opening the pages of the manga proposal. As he picked up the cup with the soda, he took a drink. "Just filter these out for now."
"I really love these soft drinks (飲み物)," he exhales as he looks back at Midori. "They changed the taste, but they still bring back the memories I had."
"Editor Midori, I hope you will make the right decision regarding that and your child. Guide him continuously. You may go now." As Midori bows and thanks the head, he places the triangular wood on the table.
"No, no... bring that one," the head said as he motioned for him to bring it out. "I have a new nameplate." Midori, despite being confused by what he said, brought the block out along with the drafts. "Ah, and also make it clear to him to have only one point of view unless he can transition it better." Katsuki Hotaka, looking at Midori as he ate his meal, thought of texting that person... or maybe calling them. As he slurped the hanging sweet-style spaghetti, he fished out his phone and immediately searched for the number he was going to call.
"Ah," he cleared his throat as he went to the window with much better signal while the other side of the line picked up, "Hello, Miss Lady, I found an interesting story you may want to read."
—------
Days had gone by without any single news show not leaving the assult on the mangaka Haneul Jeo's unmuttered by the news agency that there were on going concerns of the safety of these writers. Talks shows were also making references about the situation too and that even the people on the net have been contemplating about this situation. As leaks of the alleged manuscript that made people shoot Haneul arised. Midori's biological children was the one who pointed these out to him. He was thankful at least he have someone who knows the internet around. Midori has read through the "leaks". It was infact what Haeul submitted. Leaks have always been a problem in this industry. He doesn't have any clue on who leaked it. Was it one of Haneul's manga assistants? The one from the publishing company? He started asking them one by one yet he ended up with nothing.
"How are you holding up the narrative?" one of his editor's coworker asked smoking just beside him outside taking a break as placed a mint candy on his own mouth. "I mean, Haneul was shot again. Man that guy really can't stop being a problem you know. The last time he almost got killed by some guy from the internet forum he pissed, now this... You really have a problem child no?"
"Agh. This is beyond hopeless, Nagai!" He can't help but force his boiling pressure inside himself biting the soft souffle pancake that he carries with a wrapping paper.
"The only remedy you can do though is just be there at the present, make excuses and deceive the readers if you want."
"Deceive?"
"You know, get their sympathy. Make them realize how wrong they were. Make them feel guilty."
"What?"
"Or you can just leave it that way and will resolve sooner or later."
"What are you saying that I do?"
"Leave it?"
"No, the other thing..."
"Make them feel guilty..."
"Where did that came from?"
"From me."
"Making them guilty?" He can't stop it now; the only thing he thought he could do was make a false one or just look away from this. In this moment, Midori was the protagonist who doesn't know what to do or to his own words a foil in a literary piece awaiting to do a flight or fight response to help him and his current position. Despite that he went on the daily schedule that he had created, looking over the works of the artists under him, commenting and writing suggestions. Midori is the real person. Being an editor for manga is terrible-the guilt of rejecting pieces yet he rejects it. Yet he was always there for them.
"Haneul Jeo. How is he?" He coaxed the doctor who has been looking out for the mangaka.
"He's still in the critical condition and has still not waking up."
"Can I see him?"
"Unfortunately no. He's still in the ICU and his body is sensitive to-"
"Nevermind, just take care of hm."