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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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Chapter 16: Dining with the Chairman
"Jung, are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Then let’s go."
Together with the editor-in-chief and Matsuda, I found myself stepping into the Imperial Hotel—a place in Japan known as a go-to venue for high-level business meetings, frequented by the elite.
From the entrance, Matsuda looked completely stiff, while the editor-in-chief, though not showing it outright, was clearly tense. And then there was me, still in my school uniform.
Anyone could tell—we stuck out like sore thumbs.
The reason the three of us, so clearly out of place, had come here wasn’t anything all that complicated.
The cause? Something that had happened just two days ago.
＊ ＊ ＊
- Jung, are you listening?
"Ah—yes, I’m listening."
Matsuda’s voice through the phone reeled my soul back in from wherever it had briefly wandered off to.
"Why did the publisher suddenly reject my series finale?"
Shueisha is one of the publishing giants in Japan—top of the heap.
If you look at the hierarchy strictly by corporate scale, the editorial department of Weekly Shōnen Jump doesn’t even come close in weight class.
Still, they don’t normally interfere with a department’s day-to-day operations.
I mean, how many divisions does Shueisha even have? It's not like they have time to micromanage just one editorial team.
Sure, they’ve vetoed the endings of series before—especially ones that impacted Japan's culture or economy at large—but let’s be honest—’D Note’ isn’t ‘that’ kind of juggernaut.
- We’re still trying to figure it out on our end too.
Matsuda said.
- The discussion in the editorial department was moving toward green-lighting D Note’s ending, but then out of nowhere... Chief?
His words cut off, and I faintly heard another man’s voice in the background.
- Is this Mr. Jung, the author?
Then came Matsuda’s voice again.
- Hang on, I’m handing the phone over.
- Mr. Jung, my apologies for the sudden call. This is Aizawa Touji, Editor-in-Chief of Weekly Shōnen Jump.
A familiar voice greeted me.
"Ah, Editor-in-Chief. It’s been a while."
Which, to be fair, was a bit of a stretch—we’d just seen each other a few days ago—but we exchanged pleasantries out of professional courtesy.
- I assume Matsuda’s filled you in to some extent, but we’ve come to a decision to postpone the ending of ‘D Note.’
Just as I opened my mouth to ask why—
- First, Mr. Jung, I want to offer my personal apologies as Editor-in-Chief. I had intended to give you our full support after reviewing the final manuscript you submitted. Unfortunately, due to some complex internal circumstances, we've caused you unnecessary concern.
So he beat me to the punch—an apology straight from the top.
For someone in his position to bow his head to a lowly manga author like me?
That apology carried weight. Multiple implications.
It meant—
1. The editorial department is taking full responsibility.
2. They have no intention of turning this into a feud with me.
3. They had ‘intended’ to approve the ending.
4. And subtly, they were signaling that it was the ‘publisher’, not them, who blocked it.
By spelling all that out, he essentially stripped me of any grounds to push back further.
Not that I was planning to argue, really—but it seems the editor-in-chief was worried I might storm off to another magazine in a fit of rage.
"I understand, sir. But… if I may ask—what exactly prompted the postponement of D Note's ending?"
There was a pause.
- ...I hate to admit this, but we’re still looking into that ourselves. But the part that’s really troubling... and what I need to tell you now...
Unlike the last time I spoke with him, the editor-in-chief was hesitating—really wrestling with his words.
And the moment he finally managed to say it, I understood why.
"You mean… a dinner with the Chairman of Shueisha?"
＊ ＊ ＊
Shueisha.
A powerhouse in Japan’s publishing and cultural industries.
It’s not quite the same as those family-run mega-conglomerates—the kind that pull the strings behind Japan’s biggest banks and industries.
Unlike those corporations, where power and titles are passed down like family heirlooms, Shueisha works differently. Promotions there come from within.
In other words, instead of being born rich and inheriting a preordained seat at the top, Shueisha’s executives are self-made—people who clawed their way up from the bottom.
So now, a meeting with the chairman of ‘that’ kind of company?
I had only seen the chairman once before in a previous life—just from a distance. It wasn’t anything meaningful. He wouldn’t have even registered my existence.
Before coming here, I tried to mentally prepare by digging through news articles and features about the man.
Bigwigs like him tend to make headlines just by walking out the door, so the info wasn’t hard to find.
Still, no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find a single reason why ‘I’ would be summoned.
The only possible connection we had was his background—but it was a stretch to think that alone was the reason.
So, with no real plan or strategy, the promised dinner came around.
We arrived at one of the most prestigious luxury hotels in Tokyo.
Following the staff’s guidance, we headed to our reserved table.
"Mr. Jung, I imagine this might’ve been inconvenient. Thank you for coming."
"It’s part of the job—no trouble at all."
Given my age, the editor-in-chief had broached this whole situation very delicately.
Even for someone older, this kind of meeting would be intense. And me? I wasn’t just ‘young’—I was flat-out ‘a kid’. You can guess how awkward that made things.
The table was already set with plates and utensils—perfectly arranged.
I’d never been to a place ‘this’ fancy before, but I had done a few business meetings in similar upscale spots.
I honestly thought I’d go my whole life without ever needing to know high-class table manners.
As I was thinking that and sitting quietly, heels began clicking against the floor—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Someone was approaching.
"The Chairman will be entering now."
＊ ＊ ＊
Moriayama Takashi.
Chairman of Sueisha.
No further introduction was necessary.
Naturally, Jung Junhyuk, the editor-in-chief, and Matsuda rose from their seats upon seeing the chairman. But Chairman Takashi gave a good-natured laugh and waved his hand to stop them.
“Please, stay seated.”
He looked every bit the grandfatherly figure entering his seventies. Yet Junhyuk could read in those kind eyes a gaze that seemed to pierce right through him.
“My name is Moriayama Takashi.”
Grasping the outstretched hand, each member of the group bowed and introduced themselves.
A seasoned veteran of countless battles. Despite his age—or perhaps because of it—everyone in the room could sense the resolute spirit radiating from him.
“We’ve prepared a course meal. I hope it suits your tastes.”
“Not at all, thank you very much for your thoughtfulness.”
The editor-in-chief responded on behalf of the group, and Matsuda and Junhyuk nodded slightly alongside him.
“These are busy people you’ve brought, so please take extra care today.”
“Of course.”
A waiter standing behind smiled faintly and withdrew.
The room was spacious, the table large. Once the waiter left, only Junhyuk’s party, the chairman, and his personal secretary remained.
A brief silence followed, broken by the host, the chairman.
“Mr. Jung—or should I say, Writer Jung?”
“Please call me whichever you prefer, Chairman.”
“Ha ha. I heard you’re Korean, yet your Japanese is excellent. You might even speak better Japanese than I do.”
It sounded like a simple compliment, but it was an implicit sign of interest from the chairman. He was letting them know he was aware of them.
Depending on the listener, it could feel like pressure—but his gentle expression dissolved any suspicion.
Junhyuk read the meaning behind the words and lightly shook his head.
“You flatter me. And if I may, feel free to speak casually with me.”
“Alright then—but only here, just between us.”
Everyone nodded.
The chairman smiled without losing his composure and continued the conversation.
“I’ve seen your works, Writer Jung. It’s incredible to think they were created when you were just a middle schooler. There’s a depth of philosophy in them that’s hard to believe.”
“Thank you for the praise. Thanks to Editor Matsuda and the editor-in-chief here, I was able to achieve good results.”
“By the way, it was Editor Matsuda who discovered Writer Jung, right?”
Matsuda gulped nervously and replied—
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You’ve uncovered a treasure from overseas. Ha ha. Honestly, if it weren’t for Matsuda, the world might never have seen such fascinating work.”
“You flatter me.”
The conversation naturally turned to ‘D Note’.
But no one at the table dared to mention the conclusion of the series lightly.
It was clear that the chairman was steering the talk, and since he was the first to bring up ‘D Note’, everyone was watching for his intent.
“Writer Jung, I want to hear why you want to finish ‘D Note’.”
Mocking the caution of the three, the chairman immediately got to the point, still smiling.
But Junhyuk instinctively sensed that this smile was different from before.
In his past life, he’d encountered similar types of people during business meetings—people like this chairman.
He hadn’t thought much of those experiences then, but they had left a mark deep inside him.
Like the chairman, Junhyuk answered with a smile.
“Chairman, before I explain my reasons, may I ask a few questions?”
The unexpected reply surprised the chairman inwardly, but he showed no sign of it.
“By all means.”
“Then, may I ask, do you think a masterpiece and commercial success are separate things?”
“Hmm... I’d say they are. I don’t know much about art, but artistic works don’t always become popular with the masses.”
“I think so, too. And only sometimes, when the audience’s tastes and the artistic quality align, can a work gain both popularity and critical acclaim.”
“Ha ha. Did I get the right answer?”
Though the exchange was simple, Matsuda and the editor-in-chief sitting nearby were drying up from nervousness.
“Well, if that’s the answer you expected, maybe so. Then let me ask, what do you think is necessary for commercial success?”
“As Writer Jung said, isn’t it a work that understands both artistic merit and what the public prefers?”
Junhyuk smiled slyly and replied—
“You’re wrong.”
Everyone froze.
Only the two involved understood each other’s true intentions.
‘This old man…’
‘This kid…’
‘...he never meant to stop the ending in the first place.’
‘...is slick as a snake’
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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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