“What are you talking about? You worked hard for this, didn’t you? You were always complaining that the author wouldn’t agree to it.”
“Wouldn’t... Huh?” I blinked exactly three times, then put my genius mind to work figuring out what the editor-in-chief meant.
I got more anime offers than you could shake a feather at, but there was only one author among my series stubborn enough to reject every last one. Their work sold like hotcakes even without an anime, so I’d half given up—but that didn’t stop me from negotiating behind closed doors.
“Are you talking about Makigai Namako-sensei?”
“That’s right. He’s given his permission for an anime adaptation, hasn’t he? Honeyplace Works contacted me to talk about the rights, and I found out right away. I can’t believe you kept all of this to yourself! You should have told me the moment you made even the tiniest bit of headway with Makigai-sensei!” The editor-in-chief laughed.
“...Huh?”
Wait, what? It was the first I’d heard of any of that!
“You certainly kept me on my toes! Here’s this newcomer, recent winner of a major prize, and you just weren’t getting him to budge on the whole anime thing. At any rate, I’m glad you’re finally getting somewhere!” He laughed again, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“...Please excuse me.” I slipped past the editor-in-chief and rushed over to my desk.
Most of the editors’ desks here were scattered with manuscript drafts, light novel proofs, figures, CDs, and other miscellaneous items. But there was one that was so conspicuously tidy and clean, you’d think it had never been used. It was, of course, the prestigious desk belonging to superstar editor Kiraboshi Kanaria.
When you are a top-tier editor like me, it’s only natural to keep your work environment— Wait, I’ve got more important things to worry about!
Quick as a flash, I turned on my PC and opened up my emails. It just wasn’t possible that one of my works would get an anime without me knowing it! I checked the avalanche of emails that had come in since I last looked one by one—there was a possibility that everyone else in the office might be experiencing a mass hallucination.
“N-No way...chirp.”
It turned out I didn’t actually need to check them all individually; there were an abnormal number of emails mentioning Snow White’s Revenge Classroom in their subject lines. Some were internal, like the emails from the rights department or the editor-in-chief. Others were external: like the producer from the main music label I’d been negotiating with in secret, or the companies hoping to make merchandise for the series.
The most important, however, came from Tsukinomori Makoto of Honeyplace Works. This deal was already set in stone, and all without me having a say.
Mashiro’s given her approval for the anime to go ahead. Of course, we’ll be the studio that takes it on. Cheers to our new eve of working closely together.
“He seriously tried to toast me over email?! Gaaah! Uh, chirp.” I neutralized my guttural scream with an adorable chirp. Did it save my outburst? Not really; it was more an extra top-up of character, for when I was about to slip up. It was an emergency measure with a ton of different uses!
Anyway, if we ignored Tsukinomori-san’s unprofessional, nauseating tone, that left the contents—and that was where the real problem was.
That problem was called Mashiro: Tsukinomori Mashiro, pen name Makigai Namako. Author of Snow White’s Revenge Classroom. Assuming this email was right, she’d given permission for an anime adaptation to go ahead. Without asking me.
“Ma. Ki. Gai. Sen. Sei,” I growled through gritted teeth as my trembling fingers flew over my phone screen. I found Makigai Namako-sensei’s contact and started a call. I knew she was still on her class trip, and I had planned to leave her be while she was away, but this was an emergency of the most urgent kind.
The ring tone sounded a few times before it was suddenly interrupted.
“Hello? Oh, it’s you, Canary-san.”
“Don’t ‘oh, it’s you’ me, chirp! I can’t believe you went ahead and green-lit the anime without even a cheep!”
“Oh, yeah. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I think I do, actually!”
“What? But you’re super talented.”
“I mean, I’m not not talented! If you can find me another editor as talented as me anywhere in the world, I’ll keep my eye on them and then bring them into my flock, chirp.”
“Take care of it for me then? Shouldn’t be hard for someone like you.”
“What? Your logic is all wrong, chirp! You do realize you’re throwing me into the wind turbines here? At least tell me you’ve put some thought into a plan?”
“Wait, you’re saying you’re in trouble because of how sudden this all is? And you haven’t had time to prepare?”
“You got it! Look, your work is being handled by a publisher now, and that means it’s no longer just yours. Being the author doesn’t mean you can go around handing out rights like candy!”
“But you’re so talented. I’m sure you’ll be able to deal with it.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but that’s not the issue! I’m just asking that you treat me with a teensy bit of respect, okay?”
“But it’s so much effort...”
“How rude! Listen, Makigai-sensei, don’t think you can just treat me however you want!”
“Eh, I sure can. Think of it like a tax on your talent.”
“Excuse me?!”
I was already giving my all to this industry—why did I have to pay a tax on top of that?!
And what was with Makigai-sensei’s attitude? Her work was getting an anime, and she was talking like she couldn’t care less!