Three hours later...

"Ah, today's progress is finally done~!"

I stood up and stretched lazily. Since I’d just wrapped up the ending of Volume 7 of *The Midnight Record*, the workload wasn’t heavy. The online serialization only reached Volume 5, but authors must submit one volume ahead for editorial review. I was a fast writer, so I’d even finished Volume 7 today.

After resting a moment, I checked the manuscript for revisions. Confirming everything was fine, I emailed it to my editor.

Soon, my phone rang with her call.

"Sensei Chidori, I’ve received the manuscript."

"Oh, oh, thanks for your hard work."

"I have good news and bad news. Which first?"

Her calm tone gave no hint whether the good news was sweet or the bad news bitter.

"Hmm... what’s the good news?"

"Ah, choosing the good news first? I fear you won’t handle the bad news later!"

Damn it, why not just spill the bad news upfront?

The woman on the other end showed zero awareness of her cruelty and chuckled. "Volume 6’s review is complete."

"And the result?"

"Rejected!"

"Rejected... meaning major rewrites?"

"Rejected means rejected. Not a single word accepted. Total rewrite required!"

"...Huh? Eh? Whaaat?!"

I let out a startled gasp. Did she even grasp what she’d said?

It felt like someone demanding you strangle your own child for being ugly—then restart from scratch. Heartbreaking, but refusing meant losing next month’s pay, and the month after.

The heartless woman kept nagging. "So, Sensei Chidori, no need to rush. Volume 6’s rejected, so Volume 7 needs heavy edits too, right?"

"W-why was it rejected?"

"Why ask... honestly, haven’t you noticed your work’s declining? *The Midnight* is detective fiction, yet romance dominates now. Volume 6 had only one case!"

"W-well... character relationships needed clarity! Readers love Eliza and Lin Zheng’s dynamic. And psychological depth makes characters feel real." I stammered, desperate to salvage her opinion.

"But that clashes with the detective core," my editor cut in sharply. "Worse, Volume 6’s sole case copied the crime method from the Kinden Station murder in Volume 2, Chapters 6–12. Even the protagonist’s deduction mirrored it."

She paused, then delivered the death blow. "Sensei Chidori, you’re coasting on past glory again."

I fell silent. Truthfully, she wasn’t wrong. Detective mysteries drain your brain—planting seemingly useless clues early, then making readers gasp, "Ah! Why didn’t I see that?" at the climax.

But it’s so hard. I regret switching genres.

"Haha, speechless? Shocked?"

Her teasing hit home. I was shattered.

"Cheer up. Good news next." Rare comfort from her.

"Sensei Chidori, your work *The Midnight*..." she drawled, pausing between words, "...is getting published!"

What?

I froze, then realized—this was real joy!

"Come Saturday. We’ll discuss details and introduce your illustrator."

The call ended. So decisive.

I stayed frozen, phone glued to my ear.

My work... getting illustrations?

My novel... published?

YES!

I clenched my fist and burst into loud laughter.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The wall between my room and Baiyu’s rattled. Her angry shout followed.

"Shut up! Are you an idiot, Zong Jun?"

I ached to share this with Baiyu. She’d freak over *The Midnight*’s standalone release.

No. Must hold back.

That publisher who rejected *Lilith*—see now? I, Chidori, am getting published! Too late to regret. Lalala~

Can I call myself a writer now? Just thinking giddies me.

Then the editor called again.

"Oh, right. Forgot—the chief editor says if the rewrite’s still this poor, *The Midnight* gets axed early. Bye."

She hung up before I could speak.

Ice water doused my head. Every spark of excitement died.

...

Saturday arrived. I left Baiyu a note about skipping lunch, with money for her meal, then headed to the editorial department.

IF Novel’s office was in City S. My editor sometimes chased me for drafts, but since Baiyu moved in, I always came here. Truthfully, it’s scary—I’ve been locked in rooms here, denied food or freedom until I finished writing.

After signing in at reception, I took the elevator up.

Doors opened on the fifth floor. I stepped into the editorial department. Familiar editors greeted me warmly.

"Sensei Chidori’s here."

"Morning, Sensei Chidori."

I nodded politely. Frequent visits made us friendly.

My editor Miss Jinmu sat at the back. She glanced at me, then continued her call. "Yes... about that manuscript..."

I found a chair and waited—used to this.

Miss Jinmu was twenty-seven or so, with long golden hair tied in a work ponytail. Tall, slim, and androgynous-faced, she resembled a cool, handsome guy. She always wore a frosty expression toward me, yet I’d chosen her as my editor. Because...

Her chest was super~~~ huge!

Her conservative work suits strained at the buttons. And when one popped open accidentally, her blushing face was weirdly cute.