I just want to quietly draw manga Chapter 354

At Chain Veil, the meeting room was already full when Misato stepped inside. Natsume, Sakamoto, Ishida, Kurose, and the rest of the editorial board were already talking. The noise dropped almost immediately when they noticed her.

Clash of Kings had been their top 5 series for eight years. Stable sales, loyal fanbase, consistent quality. But the author had confirmed it, with one year left, maybe less. And they had already started looking for a replacement manga.

She set her files down, took her seat, and let out a short breath.

“I hope everyone has started looking for something new. Clash of Kings has a year left, and I want the new manga to start as soon as possible.”

A few editors straightened up. Ishida adjusted his glasses. Sakamoto nodded lightly.

“So everyone brought new stories for review?”

Half the room raised their hands.

“Alright. Sakamoto, start.”

Sakamoto cleared his throat and began his rundown. The first few pitches showed promise—decent art, clear concepts. But nothing felt strong enough to carry the magazine. The reviews dragged on. By lunch, everyone looked drained.

After they returned, the stack of files on the table felt even heavier. The afternoon submissions weren't any better.

By three, the mood had sunk completely. Faces were tired, and the pile of rejected drafts kept growing.

Kurose closed a folder and leaned back. “Everything feels too formulaic. In today’s market, these won’t last a year.”

Ishida nodded, tapping his pen against his notes. “Our long-running series are safe because their audience is already built, but anything new….” He shook his head. “We’re stuck. If we want to stay No.2, we need something that doesn’t look like the same recycled structure.”

At the far end, Yamamoto, one of the younger editors, flipped through his notes. “Has anyone been reading JoJo or Fullmetal lately? Those two still feel fresh.”

Kurose let out a short laugh. “Echo Shroud really struck gold, huh.”

“Of course they did,” Ishida said, adjusting his glasses. “They’ve worked with so many mangaka over the years, tried so many different stories. Their chances of finding someone like Muzishiro, or even someone close to that level, were always higher than ours.”

Natsume leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So should we try the same approach? Maybe dedicate one or two slots to experimental works, just to keep things fresh. God knows we need it. We haven’t had a standout new story in five years, and every year the new ones fail to build momentum like their predecessors.”

Kurose sighed. “We can’t just follow Echo Shroud’s method. They spent years trying, which is why they were one of the most volatile in terms of sales. Ours is steady. And just because they found Muzishiro doesn’t mean we will too. To find someone of that level, we’d have to publish many mid-tier stories year after year, and even then the chance is barely in our favor.”

“So what do you suggest?” Ishida asked, setting his pen down. “Should we try to bring Muzishiro’s next work here? Would he even want to come?”

Yamamoto shrugged. “It’s not a bad idea, but we’d have to offer him the same perks Echo Shroud gives. Probably more, if we want him to switch publishers.”

Natsume added, “But we could pitch it differently. He writes two manga at the same time, right? If he publishes in our magazine as well, it could help him grow his audience even more. And no matter how talented the mangaka is, a weekly magazine doesn’t rely on just one series. Readers buy volumes separately anyway. He might be inclined to join.”

Kurose rested his chin on his hand. “True. Publishing two stories in Echo Shroud doesn’t give him extra benefit compared to doing one with us. A second magazine means a second audience base.”

Ishida pointed at the papers in front of him. “Right. And we could present it as expansion, not competition with Echo Shroud.”

“But would Echo Shroud allow that?” Sakamoto asked. “Seventy percent of their recent sales growth came because of Muzishiro. They won’t happily let another publishing house get a piece of that.”

Yamamoto leaned forward. “But what can they actually do? They don’t sign mangaka exclusively; they sign individual manga. We could bend our own rules and let him continue his other work at Echo Shroud. That way, everyone benefits.”

Kurose shook his head slowly. “The problem isn’t whether we can do it. It’s whether we’d be willing to give him the same benefits Echo Shroud does.” He gestured toward the rejected manuscripts. “Look at Fullmetal and JoJo, both running strong. We wouldn’t have accepted JoJo back then. Too unconventional. Too risky. And now it’s one of the biggest new shonen manga.”

He paused, looking around the table. “The real issue is that Muzishiro doesn’t like dragging manga out over long periods. JoJo will be long, so he’s doing double chapters now to move it forward faster. Say his next work is also long, and he wants double releases again. Would we allow it?”

The room stayed quiet for a moment.

“No, right?” Kurose continued. “Because that’s not how we operate. Echo Shroud trusts Muzishiro’s future. They believe he’ll keep making manga at this level for a long time. Would we trust him that way, even after everything he’s already proven?”

Natsume leaned back in his chair. “But the later we act, the more Echo Shroud will catch up and take our market share. And if we wait too long, other publishers will try to approach him too. Gilded is facing the same stagnation problem we are. If they make the first move, they’ll have the advantage.”

“You make a good point, Natsume,” Misato said.

The room turned toward her.

“We should invite him.”

Natsume nodded. “We’ll have to move quickly. Fullmetal is in its final arc. It’ll be ending mid or late this year. That’s our window.”

“I’ll arrange a meeting with him,” Misato said. She looked around the table. “But don’t stop looking for new manga. We really need a work that can stand with the legacy of our old titles. I want something strong by the next meeting.”

The editors nodded, though the exhaustion on their faces didn’t lift.

After the meeting ended, people slowly gathered their folders and left the meeting room.

As Misato headed back to her office, she ran the numbers in her head. Echo Shroud’s growth rate over the past three years. Their momentum with Muzishiro’s works. The trajectory.

Two years, maybe less, before they overtook Chain Veil.

Ten years she’d held the editor-in-chief position. Ten years of steady growth, careful management, protecting their No.2 spot against everyone else.

And now this.

She couldn’t go to the president and shareholders with just “we need Muzishiro.” That would sound desperate. She needed to show that Chain Veil was still strong, that they had both a solid new work and Muzishiro. That would prove they weren’t scrambling to survive, but strategically expanding.

She reached her desk and started pulling up everything about Muzishiro. She’d followed his work casually over the years, but never this closely. Now, going through it all—the output, the quality, the consistency, the sheer volume of successful projects—one thought kept circling back.

How could one person be this talented and maintain this much output?

After reading through it all, she leaned back in her chair.

I don’t think I even need a strong new work to convince them. This information alone might be enough to push the decision through.

But she’d still need both. Just to be safe.

“Shinji, can you come in here?” she called.

Shinji stepped inside.

"I want you to gather everything Muzishiro has done," Misato said. "A comprehensive report. Highlight how much work he's produced, the quality consistency, and how much growth Echo Shroud gained from each project. Focus on the details: sales numbers, reader retention, volume sales over time. Make it clear this isn't just hype."

So they don’t dismiss it as a risky gamble, she thought. He could flop eventually. Anyone could. But the chances are small enough to justify the investment.

“Anything else?” Shinji asked.

“No, that’s all. Thank you, Shinji.”

Shinji nodded and left, already making notes.

In the car

Haruki stared out the car window as the buildings blurred past. He and Haruka were headed to Karigawa Hall.

“Are you ready?” Haruka asked, glancing over.

Haruki looked back. "As ready as I'll ever be." He turned back to the window. "One thousand people. Should be fine."