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I just want to quietly draw manga Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2025-04-17 06:42:46 +0000 UTCSora looked at Haruki , a little startled.
This young man was so decisive—he just got up and left, giving no room for negotiation.
But when the opportunity for cooperation reappeared, the person who seemed indifferent before suddenly smiled, his attitude completely different.
Sora smiled, realizing that Haruki was someone she found rather appealing.
After all, in the professional world, it's often hard to tell who's being genuine. But Haruki didn't hide anything—no, it was more like he didn't even want to hide his thoughts. On the contrary, it made getting along with him surprisingly easy.
From there, things went smoothly. Since both of them were willing to publish The Garden of Words in Kurokawa Publishing's Inkblot Series, the focus shifted to discussing pricing and copyright.
While the dialogue in The Garden of Words was sparse, the content across seven chapters was just barely enough to compile into a single volume.
Although Sora didn't believe the story had a strong chance of getting a full-volume release, she still suggested writing the details into the contract to avoid disputes later.
After nearly thirty minutes of discussion, they reached an agreement: Kurokawa Publishing would publish The Garden of Words in the Inkblot Series at a rate of 220 yen per page. If it were eventually published as a standalone volume, the royalty rate would be set at 7%.
In other words, with The Garden of Words totaling around 160 pages, Haruki's compensation would come out to about 35,000 yen.
As far as Haruki knew, this was a fair rate for a rookie manga artist—possibly even slightly above average. It seemed that Sora didn't intend to take advantage of his inexperience or lack of knowledge about the industry.
There was, however, an additional clause in the contract: for the next year, if Haruki created a new manga, he would have to submit it exclusively to Kurokawa Publishing. Even if his submission was rejected, he wasn't allowed to take it elsewhere.
As compensation, the company offered him a modest stipend—but honestly, it was barely more than a token gesture. Hardly better than nothing.
Haruki looked at that clause and fell silent for a while.
"This is standard practice in the industry," Sora explained gently. "Not just here—even the major publishers with national distribution follow similar rules. If you want to serialize as a newcomer, you have to agree to these conditions. It's not just us."
After all, no publisher wants to invest in nurturing a new talent only to have them jump ship the moment they gain recognition. While the terms were undeniably strict, it was a rite of passage for any aspiring manga artist.
Accept the terms first—then earn your freedom through success.
Haruki understood this. He just couldn't help feeling a bit dazed—this would be the very first contract of his life. Signing it meant he was stepping into society with one foot already in the professional world.
He would earn money through the contract—and be bound by it as well.
It was a little scary. A little overwhelming. But more than anything, it was exciting.
Haruki picked up the cool metal pen, took a deep breath, clenched his teeth, and signed his name without hesitation.
Sora smiled and stood, extending her hand.
"Sensei Shuishin, here's to a successful partnership."
"Likewise."
Haruki returned her smile and shook her hand firmly. After exchanging a few parting words, Sora escorted him out from the 18th floor of Kurokawa Publishing.
Once back in her office, Sora pulled out the original manuscript of The Garden of Words.
She took a deep breath as she flipped through the beautiful panels.
To be honest, at the serialization pitch meeting, hardly anyone had supported Haruki's work.
For one, Haruki was a complete unknown, and the reviewers were being cautious.
Secondly, the tone of his story was vague. It wasn't a standard school romance, nor was it a mature workplace drama.
It couldn't even be called a student-teacher romance—Takao and Yukari only truly connected in an emotional outburst at the very end, and the story ended right as that emotion peaked.
Still, there was something undeniably refined about it. The pacing was tight, the narration clean, and the plot free from clichés.
So, Sora fought against the odds. Though she couldn't get it approved for full serialization, she did everything in her power to land it a spot in the Inkblot Series.
Because this work... had soul.
She wasn't sure if it would sell, but it moved her. And for an editor who reads mountains of manuscripts every month, it was rare to find something that resonated like this.
So, it wasn't just that she saw potential in *The Garden of Words*—it was that she saw potential in Haruki Yuuki himself.
He was still just a high school student. And if his very first manga already had this level of quality…
Then what about the next one?
Haruki Yuuki returned home and flopped heavily onto his bed. He hadn't done anything physically exhausting, but somehow, he still felt worn out.
He added Sora Aizawa's contact on his phone, and naturally, they connected on Line as well.
A moment later, a message came through.
> "Everything went smoothly. Your serialization is officially scheduled. A series in the Inkblot Series is ending next week, and the editor-in-chief has agreed to have *The Garden of Words* take its slot."
That fast?
Here's the continuation in the same polished style and consistent with your localized setting, names, and tone:
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Haruki blinked in surprise.
But on second thought, it made sense. The Inkbolt Series was known for short-format manga—quick reads from fresh faces and experimental creators. Openings came up regularly, and it wasn't unusual for a newcomer to slide into a vacated slot on short notice.
Still... it felt surreal.
He glanced at his phone and noticed several missed calls from his homeroom teacher.
After a brief pause, he tapped out a quick message—something about catching a cold and needing to rest. He requested a leave of absence, then set the phone aside.
With school off his plate for the day, the apartment felt eerily quiet. Too quiet.
He got up, wandered into the living room, and stood before a small household altar where two modest memorial tablets rested. They belonged to his parents. With practiced hands, Haruki lit a stick of incense and placed it gently in the holder. A thin curl of smoke rose in silence.
He let out a breath, long and low.
Maybe it was because he'd lost them so young that he'd grown up without any boundaries. There had never been anyone around to scold him for skipping class, for wasting time, for sinking so deep into anime and games that the real world became secondary.
And now? Somehow, he'd ended up with a mysterious manga artist system—and had actually become a manga artist.
His gaze lingered on the framed photo of his parents beside the tablets.
After a moment of silence, Haruki suddenly spoke.
"Mom… Dad… If you really are out there somewhere, watching, you don't have to worry about me anymore."
He smiled faintly.
"Your good-for-nothing son—the one who used to waste whole days on video games and anime? He's technically a working adult now. I even earned 35,000 yen today. That's something, right?"
He chuckled under his breath.
"With my grades, college was always a stretch. So if I'm not going to make it there… then I'll go all in as a mangaka. I mean, worst case, I won't starve… probably."
"…Yeah. That's the plan."
As the words left him, he felt something ease in his chest. The lingering tension he'd been carrying all morning began to lift.
He stood up, walked across the room, and threw the curtains open.
The afternoon sunlight spilled in, painting the tatami floor in golden warmth.
At first, when he got this weird system, all he wanted was to enjoy the brilliant manga it pulled from parallel worlds.
That was the only reason he'd even started drawing. He'd been tricked into it, really.
But now...
A soft breeze drifted in through the window. Haruki closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Even if all he was doing was copying… it was still manga. And it still moved people.
He could make money. He could share incredible stories. He could dive into one amazing world after another.
Maybe… becoming a manga artist wasn't such a bad future after all.
