The school's Ice Princess is moving the grown-ups of this country with a single phone call, all to bring a novel I wrote out into the world.
The top floor of the tower condo. With the night view at her back, Kisaragi sat with her long legs neatly together, her gaze lowered to the tablet on her lap. A single strand of silver hair fell across her cheek. Her voice was quiet, as flat as ice.
"Yes. That figure is acceptable for the first print run. Secure the display tables in every affiliated store. ...No. Give the author's proofs top priority. Do not take a single second of the writer's time."
The person on the other end seemed to be an executive at a major publisher. A grown-up who surely hadn't known my name was repeating yes, yes.
I just sat at the end of the sofa, dazed.
Three years. For three years, I hadn't reached anyone. I'd cut into my writing time with part-time work, slurped cheap cup noodles, and still never stopped my fingers. Those three years were being cleared, effortlessly, by a few hours of this heiress's phone calls.
I didn't feel bitter. I just felt dizzy.
The height I couldn't reach in three years of clawing at the wall with my nails, she reached for with a perfectly ordinary face. That was what a conglomerate really was.
When she ended the call, Kisaragi turned toward me.
In that instant, the ice melted.
A soft warmth came into her expressionless face. Her gray eyes took on that moist light they had whenever she talked about my work.
"My god. I have something to report."
She slid a single document across the table. It was a rollout plan for my new serial—The Silver Princess and the Tale of Dawn.
Publishing. Advertising. Bookstore placement. Media exposure. Every place I'd spent three years watching from the outside, unable to do anything but look, was lined up there as if it were only natural.
"One week from now, we will announce the book deal on a grand scale. An affiliated agency will place the advertisements in stations, on trains, and in the prime spots of bookstores nationwide. Your story will appear everywhere in this country."
I was at a loss for words.
"That's... too much."
That was all I finally managed.
For three years, the only one who'd read my stories was the one at 12:02 a.m. I hadn't been writing because I wanted to reach tens of thousands. If it reached that one person, my nights had meaning.
"I don't need scale. I—"
"I know."
Kisaragi cut me off quietly.
"I know better than anyone that you are not someone who writes for numbers. ...But."
She gently laid her hand on the document.
"There must still be so many nights in this country that your words could keep alive. I want to find as many of them as I can. That is all."
There was a quiet weight to her voice, something like prayer.
I couldn't say anything back.
I'd said I didn't need scale. But what she was talking about wasn't scale. It was the number of nights it could reach. If even one more person could survive until morning because of my words. For that, she'd use the whole of a conglomerate.
The way she put it was unfair. It was the one way of putting it that I couldn't refuse.
Kisaragi turned to the next page. A chart of the distribution network, filled in with fine detail.
"Printing will be handled by the group's paper and printing companies. Transport by the group's logistics network. ...The world is smaller than one might think."
Her finger stopped abruptly at a corner of the chart.
"Among the second-tier subcontractors, there is this company as well. Someone in your class, Mr. Akizuki—Shota Mizuki. It belongs to his father."
At that name, I held my breath, just slightly.
Shota. The transfer student Yuna had switched to after she called me cringe and dumped me.
Who would have thought his family was under the Kisaragi Group's umbrella. The world really was small.
"...What a coincidence."
When I said that, Kisaragi closed the document. Then she smiled as if it were nothing at all.
"Yes. A mere coincidence."
For some reason, that smile looked just a little bit cold.
But at the time, I didn't think about it much.
Because my head hadn't caught up yet with the reality that my name was about to be posted all over the country.
Kisaragi stood and looked down at the sea of lights outside the window.
"Next week, your world will change."
The night view traced her silver hair in a pale blue outline.
"The full strength of a conglomerate. ...At last, I can show it to you."