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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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Chapter 25: Summer Comic Market
“Not at all.”
“I don’t pity you, Ishida-sensei. Not even a little.”
Ishida stared blankly at Jung Junhyuk’s fresh, confident expression, answering without a trace of hesitation.
- Do you pity me?
That question slipped out without Ishida’s control—a clear and obvious slip of the tongue.
Though the two writers shared a complicated relationship, no one was truly at fault.
Still, while the words weren’t meant to wound, they could easily be taken as sarcasm.
From Jung’s perspective, snapping back with a sharp reply would be justified.
But instead, Jung answered Ishida’s question as if it didn’t bother him at all.
And not just that, he said—
“I haven’t taken anything from you, Ishida-sensei.”
Ishida looked into Jung’s eyes.
There was no coldness, nor any sense of grandiosity—just calm, everyday ease in his gaze.
“Ishida-sensei, it’s been a full ten years.”
“What do you mean…”
“I mean the time during which you serialized your previous work, Hurricane.”
Jung smiled lightly, as if recalling something pleasant.
“Before that, you published several works that offered social satire and messages wrapped in gender-conscious manga. Even earlier, you wrote novels.”
Ishida had loved drawing since he was a child.
His simple dream was to draw pictures and tell stories.
But in his youth, society was in turmoil, and as an intellectual, he couldn’t just watch silently.
So he wrote.
Back then, manga wasn’t highly regarded socially, so his options were limited.
Through novels, he cynically critiqued political and social issues: the burst of the bubble economy, political paralysis, the rise of irregular employment.
Though the results weren’t satisfying, he still lived as a writer.
“You are the same person who once wrote novels about struggle, now drawing enjoyable boys’ manga and still serializing in a major magazine today.”
Since starting college, Ishida had held his pen and became a writer before even turning twenty.
And still, after nearly thirty years, he hasn’t let go of his pen.
Jung knew that this life as a writer would continue on.
“I think pity is a feeling reserved for those worse off than oneself.
Who could possibly pity Ishida-sensei?”
He said this plainly, without even a hint of heat or emotion, speaking at the same calm volume and tone as when he first arrived.
“That said… if anyone were to feel it.”
The boy who looked better suited in a school uniform than a suit looked Ishida in the eye and said,
“I might feel jealousy.”
“Haha...”
Ishida smiled, softly amused.
From the moment he stepped into the hospital room, Jung had never spoken a single insincere word.
This wasn’t flattery; he truly read Ishida’s works and genuinely admired them.
And he didn’t pity Ishida in the least.
‘Is he jealous of me...?’
Ishida didn’t understand why.
All he could do now was cling to the cliff’s edge, barely holding on as an aging writer.
And even that strength would eventually run out.
Yet here was a young genius full of infinite potential, feeling jealousy toward an old man.
“I just don’t get you, Jung-sensei.”
“That’s something I hear often.”
For some reason, just acknowledging that rekindled a fierce passion inside Ishida.
“Well then, foolish as I am, I’ll do my best to keep earning your jealousy, Jung-sensei.”
“I’ll do my best to keep up and keep feeling jealous of you, Ishida-sensei.”
Charaang—Charaang—
The sound of the wind chimes hanging on the window filled the hospital room.
Their voices weren’t loud, and their laughter was quiet.
Yet their conversation continued flowing without end.
＊ ＊ ＊
“Your expression looks good.”
“Does it?”
Ishida-sensei smiled in response to his editor Takahashi’s words.
“Yes. Looks like you had an interesting conversation with Jung-sensei.”
“He was just humoring the old man, you know.”
Though Takahashi joked like that, Ishida’s expression had noticeably lightened since Jung Junhyuk stopped by the hospital room.
His physical condition didn’t seem too bad, but the time spent in the hospital had clearly weighed on him, casting shadows on his face.
Knowing Ishida’s feelings, Takahashi hadn’t dared offer any premature words of comfort—he knew Ishida didn’t like empty formalities.
But now, the shadow that had hung over Ishida’s face had lifted, and his eyes shone bright with clarity.
“I want to pick up my pen again soon.”
As if he were a writer just starting out, full of eager hope.
＊ ＊ ＊
“You look pretty happy.”
“That’s because Matsuda scored the Mikutsu-chan glasses version from the gacha for just 1,000 yen.”
“Jung-kun…! You actually worried about me that much? I always thought you were some crazy manga artist who got off on watching his money disappear in gacha… Turns out my narrow-minded thinking just made you out to be the villain!”
“That’s why I don’t like editors who catch on too fast.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Mumbling to cover up my sudden honesty, I strode past Matsuda without hesitation.
“So, what exactly did you talk about with Ishida-sensei to get that warm, friendly vibe?”
“Nothing much.”
“But both of you looked pretty cheerful for ‘nothing much.’”
Oh, really?
I thought I was holding my emotions in check, but I guess from the outside I must’ve looked kind of hyped.
“Maybe it was just good seeing him again after such a long time.”
“Hm?”
Honestly, who wouldn’t be a little excited?
Ishida-sensei was not only a writer I’d admired since I was young, but also one of the two mentors who kept me from quitting manga altogether.
He’d probably reclaim his serialization spot on his own without me bothering him like this.
In the future I came from, his work ‘Gold Crown’ had been a long-running series for over ten years.
Surviving means you’re strong.
And he truly was a writer who proved that.
Still, the reason I deliberately sought him out was because—
- Jung-kun, someday…
I guess it was guilt for not keeping that promise back then.
＊ ＊ ＊
“Sigh...”
A woman let out a deep breath, leaning back in her chair as if collapsing.
“Any luck?”
“Yeah, there are a few that aren’t bad, but... still...”
The woman, who’d just received coffee from her university classmate, pressed one hand to her forehead with a faint groan.
“Ugh! This is so frustrating! Why did you have to get hospitalized right before our event?!”
Sanae, the woman who threw her glasses down in frustration, finally lost her cool and shouted.
Hearing her outburst, the other members of the circle just gave awkward smiles and didn’t try to stop her. Everyone there completely understood how she felt.
“If we mess up Summer Comiket, it’s game over for Winter Comiket! Totally bankrupt!”
Natsu-Comi.
One of the two Comiket events held each year, the summer edition.
It’s an event where hobbyists, or those halfway into professional work, gather in individual or circle groups to showcase their works in a market.
Maybe because it only happens twice a year, the event runs for three days but easily draws over 500,000 visitors.
There are individuals and groups active under the name ‘doujin,’ but large circles are almost companies in their own right, with solid recognition and profits.
Among them, a circle called ‘Field Scroll,’ which had been gaining attention for the last three years, was in a similar position.
They started as a university club circle.
Although they had no concrete goal, their youthful energy and passion helped them create high-quality games.
Encouraged by others, they joined Comiket for the first time and sold over a thousand copies—an unbelievable record for a new circle.
Having gained a fanbase from that debut, ‘Field Scroll’ kept hitting successive hits and grew to produce projects on par with major circles.
And now...
This was the big project they saw as their last major effort.
Not just games, but also a limited edition artbook and an original manga created with outside talent.
If this project succeeded, the circle might even transition into a commercial brand rather than a doujin group.
But...
“How can it get so messed up?! Why is this happening to me?!”
Their ambitious big project had spectacularly fallen apart.
The main game was fine, and while the artbook was running slightly behind schedule, it still looked like it could be finished just in time.
The problem was the original manga.
’Sorry... I’m right-handed, but I injured my right hand…’
The expensive outside artist they’d hired had dropped out halfway through.
Suddenly, they had to find a manga artist who could draw a 100-page original manga for the game in just six weeks.
But realistically, how many artists could pull off 100 pages in a little over a month?
So, swallowing her pride, ‘Field Scroll’ cut the manga down to 50 pages and began recruiting an artist.
The result?
“Nothing... nothing at all... all the decent artists are fully booked this season, and everyone who emails after seeing the recruitment ad is way below standard... We’re screwed... totally screwed...”
Sanae, the circle’s representative, was on the verge of despair, ready to give up completely.
Then, an email arrived.
From: Enju.
The name that was about to become the talk of this Summer Comiket.
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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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