Michatsu Kashimo realized something was wrong when the cashier stopped scanning his items.
"…Sir?"
"Huh?" Michatsu blinked, looking up from his phone.
The cashier was staring at him. Not rudely. Not fearfully. Just… intently. Like she was trying to remember where she'd seen his face before.
"You, uh," she hesitated, then shook her head. "Sorry. Total brain lag."
"No worries," Michatsu said automatically, stuffing his phone into his pocket.
The scanner beeped again. Items slid forward. Life resumed.
But as he stepped outside the convenience store, plastic bag swinging from his wrist, a strange feeling followed him out — like static clinging to his skin.
He paused on the sidewalk.
That was weird.
He shrugged and started walking.
1. The First Crack
Back at his apartment, Michatsu dumped groceries onto the counter and collapsed into his chair.
"Another productive day," he muttered.
The system remained quiet. No quests. No pop-ups. No cheerful encouragement.
Which, in hindsight, should've been suspicious.
He cracked open a canned coffee, took a sip, and booted up his tablet — not to draw, but to kill time.
Out of habit, his finger hovered over a bookmarked site.
Manga Jump.
He froze.
"…Right."
He hadn't checked.
Not once.
Not rankings.
Not comments.
Not views.
He told himself it was strategy. Mental health. Letting things breathe.
In truth?
He'd been scared.
Michatsu clicked the bookmark.
The page loaded.
And kept loading.
"Huh?" He frowned. "Did my Wi-Fi—"
The site finally snapped into place.
Front page.
Featured banner.
A black-and-white splash image stared back at him.
A familiar one.
Too familiar.
His breath caught.
At the top of the screen, in bold letters:
"MANGA JUMP COMPETITION SHOCKER — WHO IS 'KARMA'?"
Michatsu stared.
"…Eh?"
His heart didn't race yet. His mind didn't panic. It simply… refused to process.
He scrolled.
The banner expanded.
Seven chapters.
Seven.
A view count that made no sense.
He squinted.
"…Did they add an extra zero?"
He refreshed.
The number went up.
Michatsu's coffee slipped from his hand and splashed across the desk.
"…Oh."
2. Reading the World Reading Him
He clicked the comments.
Instant mistake.
The page flooded.
Thousands of messages loaded in waves, stacking faster than he could read.
"This isn't a debut. Stop lying."
"Chapter 3 ruined me."
"Whoever Karma is, they understand fear."
"Editors must be crying."
Michatsu scrolled faster.
His name — no, not his name — kept appearing.
Karma.
KARMA.
"Karma-sama" made his eye twitch.
"…Sama?" he whispered.
He clicked a random thread.
It opened to a full breakdown of Chapter 1 — his Chapter 1 — analyzed panel by panel.
Red circles.
Annotations.
Paragraphs explaining why a single silent frame worked.
"They're overthinking it," he muttered weakly.
But his stomach tightened.
Because he recognized the explanations.
They weren't wrong.
They were describing decisions he remembered making — instinctively, yes, but consciously.
Another tab.
A reaction video.
A grown man leaned back in his chair, hand over his mouth.
"This page turn? This is cruel. Who does this to readers?"
Michatsu stared at the paused frame.
That panel.
He'd hesitated on that one for ten minutes, unsure whether to add dialogue.
He'd erased it.
"…I just didn't feel like adding text," Michatsu said quietly.
The realization crept closer.
3. The Name Echoes Back
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He ignored it.
Buzz again.
Ignored.
Buzz again.
"…What," he muttered, answering.
"Hello, this is—"
He hung up.
His heart thudded now. Not fast — heavy.
He stood, pacing his small apartment.
"No, no, no," he muttered. "This is… this is just internet hype. It'll die down."
The system finally spoke.
┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
[Status Update]
Global Readers: 3,870,000
Current Rank: #1 (Trending)
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛
Michatsu stopped walking.
"…Global?"
His mouth felt dry.
Another window appeared.
┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
[Achievement Unlocked]
"The Quiet Storm"
Description: Cause widespread discussion without public presence
Reward: ???
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛
Michatsu sank into his chair.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As if sudden movement might make this real.
"So…" he said hoarsely, staring at the translucent screen.
"…they're talking about me."
The system did not deny it.
4. Outside, the World Is Loud
Elsewhere, the noise grew.
Editors refreshed inboxes obsessively.
Critics rewrote columns mid-publication.
Rival mangaka stared at their drafts and erased whole pages.
And all of them wondered the same thing:
Why won't Karma speak?
5. Inside, a Normal Guy Panics Quietly
Michatsu leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"…I just wanted prize money," he whispered.
His phone buzzed again.
This time, the caller ID wasn't hidden.
Manga Jump Editorial Department
He let it ring.
And ring.
And ring.
Finally, he exhaled.
"…I really messed up, didn't I?"
The system pulsed once — soft green.
Not judgment.
Not warning.
Just acknowledgment.
6. Someone Notices the Shape of the Silence
There was a rule in the manga industry that never made it into guidebooks or interviews.
When something appeared too perfect, too sudden, too clean — you didn't ask how.
You asked who was being threatened by it.
In a cramped studio three prefectures away, a man stared at his screen without blinking.
The room smelled faintly of ink and stale coffee. Drafts lay stacked against the wall — rejected ones, accepted ones, half-loved ones. Years of work compressed into paper that never quite made it where it needed to go.
The man's name was Sakuraba Tōru.
Serializing mangaka.
Mid-tier.
Stable.
Invisible.
He scrolled again.
Seven chapters.
Seven.
His stylus hovered above his tablet, unmoving.
"…No," he said quietly.
He enlarged the first page.
The paneling was aggressive, but not sloppy. Confident, but not indulgent. There was restraint in places where beginners always overreached.
Sakuraba leaned back.
"This isn't luck."
He clicked Chapter 2.
Then 3.
Then 4.
Time passed.
Outside, the sun shifted. Inside, Sakuraba's jaw tightened.
"This person knows pacing," he muttered. "Knows when not to draw."
He hated that part the most.
Because restraint came from experience.
And experience left traces.
He opened a private forum — not public, not searchable. A place where working professionals vented, speculated, and occasionally sharpened knives.
He typed.
Thread Title: About 'Karma'
Anyone else uncomfortable?
Replies came faster than expected.
"Uncomfortable how?"
"Define uncomfortable."
"If this is another industry plant conspiracy—"
Sakuraba exhaled through his nose and typed again.
Seven chapters. No drafts leaked. No prior works.
Panel discipline of someone who's failed before.
This isn't a debut.
The typing indicator paused.
Then:
"…You think ghostwriter?"
"Or a studio?"
"No assistant credit though."
Sakuraba stared at the screen.
"No credit," he murmured.
That was the problem.
Because no studio would stay silent if this was theirs.
Which meant…
"…An individual," he said softly.
Someone alone.
Someone hiding.
7. Karma Doesn't Respond
Back in his apartment, Michatsu sneezed.
"…Cold?" he muttered, rubbing his nose.
He stood at the sink, washing rice for dinner, completely unaware that his name — not his real one — was being dissected like a specimen.
He measured water wrong, sighed, poured some out, added more.
"Why is cooking so annoying," he complained to no one.
The system didn't answer.
It hadn't said much all day.
Which, again, should've worried him.
His phone buzzed.
This time, it wasn't a call.
A message.
Unknown Sender:
Congratulations on your success.
Michatsu stared at the screen.
"…Spam?" he guessed.
He didn't reply.
He finished cooking, burned the bottom slightly, shrugged, and ate straight from the pot while standing.
"Still edible," he said, approving his own low standards.
Another buzz.
Unknown Sender:
We'd like to talk. Privately.
Michatsu frowned.
"…No thanks."
He locked his phone and set it face down.
His heart rate didn't spike.
Not yet.
Because to him, this still felt distant. Abstract. Like watching a storm on the news.
8. The First Gentle Push
The next morning, Manga Jump's public site updated quietly.
No announcement.
No headline.
Just a small line added beneath Karma's work.
Editor's Note:
We look forward to hearing from the creator regarding future plans.
Michatsu didn't see it.
But Sakuraba did.
He stared at the line for a long time.
"…They're fishing," he said.
Which meant the editors didn't know either.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
He smiled.
Not happily.
Carefully.
9. A Question Without Teeth
That afternoon, Michatsu wandered through a bookstore.
Not for manga.
He ended up in the stationery aisle by accident, staring at notebooks he didn't need.
"Too many choices," he muttered, picking one up, then putting it back.
Two high schoolers nearby whispered excitedly.
"—telling you, the art's insane—"
"—Karma? Yeah, my brother won't shut up about it—"
Michatsu paused.
"…Huh?"
They moved on, conversation fading.
He stood there, notebook half-lifted.
"…Weird coincidence," he decided.
He paid and left.
Outside, his phone vibrated again.
Another message.
Unknown Sender:
You value anonymity. So do we.
Michatsu stopped walking.
The street noise washed around him.
"…Okay," he murmured.
This one didn't feel like spam.
He didn't reply.
But for the first time, he didn't immediately put the phone away either.
10. Somewhere, the Trap Is Being Built
Sakuraba closed his laptop.
He had sent nothing directly.
Not yet.
But he'd nudged.
Forums.
Editors.
Quiet questions.
If Karma was a fluke, the silence would break.
If Karma was real…
"…He'll slip," Sakuraba said calmly.
Because no one stayed invisible forever.
11. This Is Probably Fine (It Is Not Fine)
Michatsu told himself he was overthinking.
Which, to be fair, was his default state whenever something required effort.
People talk about stuff online all the time, he reasoned while lying on his futon, staring at the ceiling.
Just because they're talking about Karma doesn't mean they're talking about me.
That logic felt sound.
Comforting, even.
He rolled onto his side, pulled his blanket up, and checked his phone again.
Bad habit.
Three new notifications.
All emails.
All from addresses that looked painfully professional.
Manga Jump Editorial Department
Subject: Regarding Your Submission
MJ Talent Relations
Subject: Future Serialization Inquiry
MJ Legal & Licensing
Subject: Creator Verification (Time-Sensitive)
Michatsu's brain stalled.
"…Why is legal emailing me," he whispered.
He didn't open them.
Instead, he locked his phone and tossed it aside like it had personally offended him.
Okay. Breathe.
He stared at the wall.
They don't know who I am.
I didn't give them anything.
Anonymous means anonymous.
The system flickered faintly in the corner of his vision, translucent and quiet.
He ignored it.
12. Rational Thought, Step by Step (Poorly)
Let's think this through, he told himself.
Step one: He submitted anonymously.
Step two: They accepted it anyway.
Step three: They want to talk.
"…That's normal," he muttered.
Authors talked to editors all the time.
Sure, usually before publication. Or with names. Or without half the internet foaming at the mouth.
But still.
They can't force me, he decided.
I haven't done anything illegal.
His stomach twisted at the word legal.
"…Probably."
He sat up.
Worst case, he continued internally, they ask for proof I drew it.
That was fine.
He did draw it.
Mostly.
With help.
A lot of help.
Okay, but that still counted.
And even if they push, he reasoned, I can just… stop uploading.
The thought felt like a punch.
Stop.
He didn't like that option.
Which annoyed him, because he hadn't even realized he cared that much.
13. The Indirect Confrontation Begins
The next escalation didn't come as a demand.
It came as visibility.
The following day, Michatsu opened Manga Jump out of morbid curiosity.
Right under Karma's series title:
Editor-in-Charge: Pending
Pending.
That word gnawed at him.
He refreshed.
Same thing.
Scrolled down.
A new section had been added to the page — subtle, almost polite.
Creator Comment:
We welcome any message from Karma regarding future plans.
Michatsu stared.
"…They're talking to me," he said.
Not directly.
Not aggressively.
But publicly enough that everyone could see.
His chest felt tight.
If I don't answer, he thought, this just keeps sitting there.
He imagined it like a chair pulled out for him, waiting.
The longer he avoided it, the more obvious his absence became.
14. Panic, But Quiet
He went outside to clear his head.
Bad idea.
On the train, two salarymen across from him were talking.
"—telling you, this Karma guy's gonna be the next big thing."
"Yeah? You think they'll serialize?"
"They'd be idiots not to."
Michatsu stared at the train floor.
Stop, he told his brain.
You're connecting unrelated dots.
But his heart didn't listen.
At his stop, he nearly missed getting off.
He walked aimlessly, hands in pockets, mind looping.
What do they want from me?
What happens if I answer?
What happens if I don't?
Every option branched into worse ones.
For the first time since transmigrating, Michatsu wished — genuinely — that he could go back to being nobody.
15. The System Doesn't Save Him
Back home, he finally opened the first email.
Carefully.
Like it might explode.
Dear Karma,
We would love to discuss your creative vision and future goals. Please note that continued publication may require verification of authorship, per standard policy.
We look forward to your response.
Verification.
His palms went sweaty.
He glanced instinctively at the translucent interface.
"…You're not gonna bail me out, right?"
The system responded — but not with instructions.
┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
[Status: Creator Autonomy Required]
Note: This decision must be made by the Host
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛
Michatsu laughed weakly.
"Of course it does."
16. A Crack in the Laziness
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling again.
In the quiet, his thoughts finally aligned into something clear.
This isn't going away.
They weren't attacking him.
They weren't exposing him.
They were waiting.
And waiting was worse.
Because waiting assumed he'd eventually step forward.
"…I hate responsibility," Michatsu whispered.
His phone buzzed again.
Not an email this time.
A private message through the platform.
From a verified account.
MJ_Editor_Saito:
Whenever you're ready.
Michatsu closed his eyes.
His heart thudded.
Not fast.
Not wild.
Just heavy.
"…I really just wanted to draw manga," he muttered.
For the first time, the thought scared him.
17. Typing, Erasing, Repeating
Michatsu stared at the blinking cursor like it had personally insulted him.
The message box was open.
The editor's name sat neatly at the top.
The white space beneath felt endless.
Okay, he thought. Just say something normal.
His fingers moved.
Hello. Thank you for reaching out.
He reread it.
"…Too stiff."
Delete.
He typed again.
Hi. I saw your message.
"…Too vague."
Delete.
Another attempt.
I'm currently considering my options regarding the series.
He grimaced.
Who talks like that?
Delete.
Michatsu leaned back, rubbing his face.
"This shouldn't be hard," he muttered. "It's just… words."
But the problem wasn't the words.
It was what came after them.
Once he replied, things would move. Conversations would happen. Decisions would be expected. He wouldn't be able to pretend this was just some side quest he accidentally triggered.
He cracked his knuckles and tried again.
I'd like some time to think.
He hovered over send.
His thumb refused to move.
Time to think about what? his brain supplied helpfully.
About whether you want this? About whether you can handle it? About whether you're even allowed to?
He deleted it.
The cursor blinked again.
Patient.
Relentless.
18. The Window Narrows
An hour passed.
Then two.
Michatsu didn't notice until his phone buzzed again.
Another email.
Same sender.
Shorter this time.
We will need confirmation within the next few days to proceed.
He stared at the words.
"…They're not asking anymore," he said quietly.
Not threatening.
Not harsh.
Just factual.
They're closing the window, he realized.
If he stayed silent long enough, the choice would be made for him.
The series would stall.
The hype would rot.
The opportunity would quietly disappear, filed away as "unresponsive creator."
That thought felt worse than panic.
It felt like regret.
19. The Annoying Thought That Won't Go Away
Michatsu stood up and paced.
"Okay, let's say I do answer," he muttered. "What's the worst case?"
His mind, traitorous as always, answered.
They verify you.
They serialize you.
You get money.
You get readers.
You unlock idol stage faster.
He stopped pacing.
"…Tch."
He didn't like that his brain had gone there.
Because it wasn't fear this time.
It was calculation.
He sat back down slowly.
If I play this right, he thought, I don't actually lose anything.
He was anonymous.
He could stay that way longer.
Editors didn't need his real name yet.
And the system… the system wanted this.
That was obvious.
And, annoyingly—
"…This is kind of perfect," he admitted under his breath.
The platform.
The timing.
The fact that this world didn't have his manga.
All the risk he was afraid of?
It came bundled with leverage.
20. Rewriting the Narrative (In His Head First)
Michatsu opened the draft again.
This time, he didn't type immediately.
He thought.
If I respond now, he reasoned, I respond as Karma—not me.
Not a nervous guy in a tiny apartment.
Not a transmigrator winging it.
But a creator with options.
Someone valuable.
"…Huh."
That framing changed things.
His shoulders relaxed a little.
He typed.
Thank you for your message.
I'm interested in discussing future plans, provided my anonymity is respected at this stage.
He paused.
Read it again.
It wasn't perfect.
But it wasn't weak either.
He added one more line.
I believe the series' current momentum speaks for itself.
He stared at the message.
His heart thumped.
Not panic.
Anticipation.
"…Yeah," he murmured. "That sounds like someone important."
His thumb hovered.
This time, it moved.
Send.
21. After the Click
The moment passed.
Nothing exploded.
No alarms.
No system fanfare.
No instant reply.
Michatsu exhaled, long and slow, like he'd been holding his breath for days.
"…Wow," he said softly. "I did it."
His phone buzzed almost immediately.
A reply.
Short.
Understood. We will proceed carefully.
Michatsu leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
A strange feeling settled in his chest.
Not fear.
Not excitement.
Something quieter.
Possibility.
"…Guess I can't pretend anymore," he muttered.
The system pulsed faint green in his peripheral vision.
Not a quest.
Not a warning.
Just acknowledgment.
22. End of the Chapter, Not the Calm
Outside, the world kept buzzing.
Editors prepared meetings.
Rivals sharpened interest.
Readers refreshed pages obsessively.
And Michatsu Kashimo?
He lay back on his futon, arms behind his head, staring at nothing.
"…This might actually be good for me," he said, half-amused, half-uneasy.
The thought lingered.
And for the first time—
He didn't immediately push it away.