On a chilly night in mid-November, the award ceremony for the 20th GF Bunko New Writers Contest was being held within a large conference venue at a certain hotel in Tokyo.
“We’ll begin tonight by having our main judge Haruto Fuwa give us his overall review of this year’s contest. Mr. Fuwa made his debut at the 10th GF Bunko New Writers Contest, and his first work, Holy Knight of the Absolute World, was adapted into an anime series. His second story, Leviathan Revive, saw even greater success as an anime, and with a second season in the works, he has truly become one of the leading writers in the world of light novels!”
After the voice actress emceeing the event gave her spiel, Haruto went up onstage.
Haruto Fuwa was twenty-eight years old and a successful author with a tall frame, a well-balanced face, and a ten-year-long career as a professional writer. Ever since he joined the New Writers Contest judging table five years ago, he had been responsible for offering his general commentary at these award ceremonies. Being introduced as a “leading writer” in this business always felt weird to him, but after five years of it, he had grown accustomed. So, without any particular enthusiasm, he picked up the microphone and began speaking.
“Umm, hello. My name’s Haruto Fuwa, and on behalf of the other judges, I’d like to offer my general comments about this year’s submissions. But first…” He turned toward the voice-actress emcee. “My first work was actually titled Chevalier of the Absolute World. The Chinese characters do mean ‘holy knight,’ but it’s a special term.”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” the young emcee said, hurriedly apologizing in the face of Haruto’s refreshing, sarcasm-free smile. The audience laughed at this little exchange.
“Ha-ha! Well, a few years back, it was kind of the in thing to mix English readings with Chinese characters, but it’s fallen by the wayside lately, which I think is too bad, ha-ha-ha. Man, it’s been ten years since I received this award, hasn’t it…? It’s kind of emotional, in a way. So! First, I’d like to extend my congratulations to all our winners tonight. They’ve produced a cornucopia of truly unique and outstanding work, very much befitting the twentieth anniversary of this contest. As a writing judge, I couldn’t be happier to see this. Lately, it’s become the norm for authors to make their publishing debut with their previously written web novels, but in the midst of that…”
Haruto’s speech, given with his trademark casual, lighthearted tone, was mixed with practical advice for newcomers and sharp analysis of recent industry trends. It captured the attention of not only the winners, but everyone else in the audience as well.
“Thanks very much, Mr. Fuwa!”
After he stepped down from the podium, Haruto was greeted by Tadashi Kamo, a fellow member of the jury. He was dressed in a high-end (if noticeably stained) suit, accessorized with the empty wineglass in his hand.
“Boy, am I glad to leave that speech in your hands, Mr. Fuwa. There’s no way I could ever give one as good as that, I don’t think.”
“Hey, it’s about getting used to it. I’ll have you give it a shot next year, Kamo.”
“La la laaa, can’t hear you…”
Haruto laughed as Kamo very deliberately turned his face aside. Kamo had become a judge two years ago, when Makina Kaizu resigned his position. The jury was traditionally filled with people who had entered the light-novel business after winning this New Writers Contest, but all the other potential candidates—meaning novelists at least as successful or long-lasting as Haruto—had either stopped writing or jumped ship to another imprint for their main projects, and that left Kamo as the one guy qualified for the post.
“I’m really not cut out to be a judge anyway, y’know. Like, a guy who used to be chronically unemployed being responsible for something that can affect people’s entire lives… It’s heavy, man.”
“I don’t think you need to get so worked up about it,” Haruto told the whining Kamo. “Like, you’re pretty much guaranteed to make your publishing debut the moment you’re picked as a finalist anyway. All we’re really doing here is deciding who gets awarded however much prize money.”
This was exactly what Makina Kaizu had told Haruto five years ago, when he joined the selection committee. But not even Haruto was used to the pressure behind these choices—and despite what he said, Kaizu always treated the process seriously. In a way, Haruto thought, if he felt the full weight of responsibility with this work, Kamo was actually a pretty good judge.
“Man… Can’t someone else take over for me next year?”
“I doubt it.”
“…Yeah. My fellow work pals are all gone, so… Like, they were all good guys, too. Goddamn.” Kamo was doing his best war-movie impersonation.
“Who’s all gone?”
Aoba Kasamatsu, who won a prize the same year as Kamo, approached him with a skeptical look on her face. With her was Ui Aioi, another winner that year.
After making her writing debut during her second year of high school, Aoba was now twenty-one and a junior in college. Her second series, The Disappointing Siblings’ Student Council War, hit it big enough that the novels were still ongoing, but the publication pace had slowed down while she focused on her university studies. Ui, meanwhile, was now twenty-eight, writing full-time, and juggling three different light novel series at once. She was producing somewhere around ten books a year, in fact—a very quick pace even by the standards of this business.
“Ahhh, Aobaaaaa! You’ve become more and more beautiful over time, haven’t you? And I think your boobs have gotten bigger, too!”
Kamo accompanied this appraisal with a leery smile.
Aoba turned her cold eyes toward her phone. “I just recorded that, you know. I wonder what would happen if I put it up on the net?”
His face immediately paled. “Gehhh!! No, don’t do that! I mean it! If I get canceled right now, they’ll call off the TV drama version!”
“That’s what you get for being such a casual sexual harasser in this day and age.”
“No, seriously, cut me a break! Besides, I’m into young girls with washboard tits anyway! You’re not even on my radar anymore, Aoba! Go back to high school for me, please! Also, I’m sorry!!”
“Why is this starting to sound like you’re dumping me or something?!” Aoba blushed as she delivered the jab. “Now I wish I really did record it,” she grumbled as she put away her phone.
Ui laughed a bit. “Hee-hee… Well, you really are getting prettier by the day, you know.”
Aoba had always had striking facial features, but when she entered college, she began to dress more fashionably. She had grown into a beautiful, attractive woman with a subtle hint of sex appeal.
“Well, look at you, Ui—actually, never mind.”
Aoba shyly stopped herself before she could begin. Unlike her, Ui was devoting almost all of her time to writing novels—so she was still a fan of hoodies and sweats, all but screaming to the world how little time she had to care about fashion.
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