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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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Chapter 47: The Editorial Office Phone Won’t Stop Ringing
The job of a Weekly Shōnen Jump editor isn’t just sitting with the mangaka and working through storyboards.
Nope—it also includes handling a mess of behind-the-scenes deals: media mix adaptations, trademark contracts, merchandise licensing—setting everything up depending on the author's intent.
And then there's this.
Riiing—
“Ugh, another call...”
Handling reader complaints about the manga? Yep. That’s part of the editor's job too.
Riiing—
“Ghhhrrk...! Where’s Matsuda?! Where the hell is Matsuda?!”
“He got called out for external meetings this afternoon…”
“That bastard! He knew this was coming and ran!”
Right now, the Weekly Shōnen Jump editorial department was under siege—an unrelenting flood of angry phone calls.
The primary reason? The explosive debut of ‘Titan of Tremor’, which shook everyone from its very first chapter in the second week of July.
But there was another reason fueling the frenzy.
“Hello, Weekly Shōnen Jump, Atafu—”
- NAINA!! EDWARD-OPPA!! BRING NAINA BACK!!
Yeah. 'Fullmetal Alchemist' was the other culprit.
“Ah...”
First-year editor Atafumi slowly lowered the phone from his ear and muttered to himself with a dead look in his eyes.
“I just wanna go home…”
＊ ＊ ＊
[Wakayama, you bastard! What are you doing?! Bring Naina back!!]
Save Naina Movement (1/100)
ㄴ(2/100)
ㄴ(3/100)
ㄴ(4/100)
[What is this insane level of immersion in 'Titan of Tremor'…?]
[Wakayama: “Yeah, it was me. I did it. So what exactly are you gonna do about it?”]
['Titan of Tremor' and 'Fullmetal Alchemist': Breakdown of Shocking Episodes and Hidden Clues Across Both Series]
Wakayama-sensei's new series, coming off the heels of his infamous 'D Note'—which even made national news back during its serialization—was naturally going to be a media frenzy. News outlets were just waiting to pounce.
So of course, this week’s issue of Weekly Shōnen Jump was under heavy surveillance.
Ironically, the manga that turned the fandom upside down this week wasn’t just the long-anticipated 'Titan of Tremor'.
[Reaching the End of Dark Fantasy? Wakayama-sensei Proves That the Darker the Shadow, the Brighter the Light]
[Wakayama’s Shocking New Series Announcement! And Even His Current Work Is Making Headlines?]
[Shock, Terror, and Sensation All at Once—This Week’s Weekly Shōnen Jump in Total Chaos]
After the end of 'D Note', Wakayama’s 'Fullmetal Alchemist' quietly, yet unshakably, held its place at the top.
The setting was grim, yet the story followed the classic trajectory of a shōnen manga.
Its steady pacing, explosive moments, and a sprawling cast gave it that unique flavor only long-running series possess.
Sure, every now and then it stirred minor uproars with a shocking reveal, but never anything massive.
At worst, fans would just be on the verge of tears, sniffling quietly to themselves.
And then—everything changed.
It all went down on the Monday 'Titan of Tremor' Chapter 1 dropped.
Everyone braced themselves for an onslaught of complaint calls about its jaw-dropping content.
And sure enough, the phones lit up like fireworks.
But what no one predicted… was that 'Fullmetal Alchemist' would pile on top of it—creating a never-ending hell of phone calls.
“…Don’t tell me… Matsuda saw this coming…?”
Editors who aren’t in senior roles are automatically assigned to phone duty.
Matsuda should’ve been helping with that, but after the morning, he’d mysteriously vanished.
Since editors get early access to the manga they’re in charge of, he must’ve known this kind of blow-up was coming.
Which meant that shady bastard definitely ran away knowing full well what would happen.
Just as his fuming senior, Kunoboshi, was mentally preparing to chew him out, someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“Matsuda got called out by higher-ups.”
It was a fellow junior editor—also currently trapped in the phone hell alongside him.
“Who? The editor-in-chief?”
Even if Matsuda didn’t ditch out willingly, forgiveness wouldn’t come easy.
Right now, even a scolding from the chief editor would feel like mercy.
Kunoboshi narrowed his eyes. The junior shook their head with a smirk.
“Higher.”
“…No way.”
“Oh yeah.”
Matsuda had been summoned to a place far, far above the editor-in-chief.
The kind of meeting that made you want to crawl back to phone duty and beg to stay.
＊ ＊ ＊
“So, you’re Matsuda?”
“Y-Yes! I’m Matsuda!”
“Relax and have some tea.”
“R-Relaxed! Totally relaxed!”
With the most awkward posture known to man, Matsuda picked up the teacup with a loud squeak and took a sip.
Junhyuk, watching from the side, looked at him with a tinge of pity in his eyes.
But honestly, Matsuda wasn’t overreacting—anyone would be a nervous wreck in his shoes.
He was still a fairly junior editor, and the people sitting across from him were in a whole different league.
Sitting side by side at the table were Matsuda and Jung Junhyuk.
Across from them sat none other than Moriyama, the Chairman of Shueisha, and Sakami Ando, the company’s President.
The two men gave off very different vibes.
Chairman Moriyama had the calm, mellow aura of an elderly gentleman easing into his twilight years.
President Ando, on the other hand, looked like a robust and energetic middle-aged man—practically radiating vitality.
“So, you really weren’t a woman, huh.”
Ando said.
Junhyuk clenched his jaw so hard his molars ached and shot Matsuda a glare full of blame and regret.
This whole mess had started with an emergency countermeasure meeting held at the editorial department—to figure out how to handle the internet’s reaction.
And the spark?
A single, overly confident line from Matsuda, like he’d just had a sudden epiphany.
- Whatever happens, we just need to fix this, right?
What Jung Junhyuk was most worried about wasn’t anything else—it was the growing clash between fanbases.
It would be ideal if people could just appreciate both Enju and Wakayama equally. But human nature doesn’t work that way. People naturally lean toward what fits their tastes more.
Comments start popping up—
“They should put more effort into one side.”
“They should drop E.D. and focus on this series.”
—And before you know it, the tide turns ugly.
So when Matsuda said he could put a stop to all that, Junhyuk—like a naïve little lamb—just nodded along.
By the time he realized he’d made a deal with the devil, it was already too late.
What made it worse was Matsuda’s method.
He didn’t just throw out the idea.
He asked again and again, with questions like “Are you really sure? Really?” until he dragged a full confirmation out of Junhyuk.
Still trembling as he held his teacup and recalled those moments, Junhyuk snapped out of his thoughts at a single comment from Chairman Moriyama.
“As I mentioned before, I don’t have much sway myself. That’s why I thought it best for you to meet with President Ando directly—and arranged this meeting.”
“What are you talking about, sir? What do you mean you don’t have power?”
President Ando gave a hearty laugh at Moriyama’s humble comment.
Just the way Ando called him senpai made it clear—this wasn’t just a hierarchical relationship between company president and chairman. There was more history between them.
Gulp—Gulp—
With a deep, satisfied sigh, Ando—who drank his tea as boldly as his burly frame suggested—turned to Junhyuk.
“I’ve heard a lot about you from the chairman. About your push for aggressive digitization and export of titles. While I do think it might be a little early… it’s not something we can just ignore either.”
Junhyuk was slightly taken aback. He had expected someone with Ando’s presence to speak bluntly or even casually, but the respectful tone surprised him.
“There’s already been steady internal discussion about making a more active move overseas. And let’s be honest—in today’s fast-moving digital era, we’re only going to see more piracy. And it’s going to get harder to control.”
Junhyuk nodded.
He wasn’t sure exactly when it had started, but it was around this time that pirated overseas versions of manga really began to circulate.
“We were inspired by how you handled the 'D Note' leak. If the problem is low-quality pirated versions, then the solution is simple—we release a high-quality official edition ourselves.”
Junhyuk’s eyes widened at Ando’s words.
He had guessed something good might come out of this meeting, especially since Chairman Moriyama had brought the president along.
But he hadn’t expected it to go this far—not so soon.
Chairman Moriyama must’ve been pushing this idea steadily behind the scenes.
“If we publish digital editions, we can reduce costs and export more easily. Of course, it’s not something we can build overnight.”
“That’s more than enough.”
Junhyuk said.
If they were willing to go forward with it, that was all he could ask for.
Still, things were moving faster than expected, and Junhyuk gulped nervously.
“If we do move forward with digitization, we’d like to consider translating and exporting not just your works, but other manga and novels from the publisher as well.”
Ando then fixed Junhyuk with a sharp gaze.
“And the ones you drew under the name Enju—”
“I’ll include them.”
Junhyuk cut in, not waiting for Ando to finish.
“But... I have one small favor to ask.”
“I’m listening.”
Ando flashed a typical businessman’s smile. But as Junhyuk continued, that smile quickly faded.
“That’s the only condition. Just that one.”
“Is that so? Nothing else…?”
“If you can grant that, I won’t ask for anything more. Is it too much?”
“It’s not hard… No, actually, it’s so simple that I AM curious. Wasn’t this an IP you worked so hard to protect—keeping it under a separate pen name and all? Why agree so easily now?”
‘So he did know.’
Junhyuk thought to himself, nodding.
“Yes. I have my reasons.”
A faint smile crossed Junhyuk’s face.
It was a smile, no doubt—but it carried a touch of nostalgia, and a trace of quiet sorrow.
“…But I’d be a little embarrassed to say what they are.”
He said it playfully, as if brushing it off like a joke.
But no one at that table dared to follow up with a question.
To lighten the now-somber mood, Ando broke the silence.
“Well then—let’s save the artist’s ‘embarrassing story’ for another day. For now, let’s talk business in detail.”
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Dreams that come in sleep—they always arrive without warning.
Sometimes, it’s a memory from earlier that day.
Other times, something completely unrelated comes crashing in from nowhere.
A familiar hospital room.
A first-person perspective entering through the door.
Jung Junhyuk, wearing his high school uniform, checked himself in the mirror—feeling oddly detached—then swung open the hospital room door with energy.
Inside, seated on the hospital bed, was his classmate.
A kid from the same class who couldn’t come to school.
“You came?”
“Yeah, your big bro is here.”
Trying hard not to notice how much more frail the kid looked than yesterday, Junhyuk pulled a book from his bag and held it up.
“I translated this one perfectly, so read it with gratitude. Word for word.”
It was a manga. One not yet officially released in Korea.
Junhyuk, who bought the original Japanese editions every month, had translated this one himself.
“Last time, you messed up the speech bubbles and the story made no sense.”
“Hey, a little mistake here and there makes it more human, more charming, y’know?”
Junhyuk averted his gaze. The kid on the bed chuckled.
With a bright smile, the kid started flipping through the pages.
His expressions changed with every page—anyone could tell he was totally absorbed.
Watching that, Junhyuk cautiously spoke up.
“Hey, you know…”
The moment he opened his mouth, the scene shifted.
Darkness—pitch black—flooded the view, then suddenly receded as light burst through and revealed a new setting.
Now Junhyuk was sitting in a family restaurant somewhere in Japan.
“I’m not going to force you.”
A blunt, no-nonsense man was looking at Junhyuk as he spoke.
Junhyuk recognized him instantly.
Lost in the haze of the dream, Junhyuk couldn’t meet the man’s eyes.
His gaze sank to the floor.
“But promise me one thing.”
The man’s stare sharpened, locking on him.
Unable to bear the weight of it, Junhyuk forced himself to lift his eyes and face him.
“Promise you’ll never let go of the pen. That someday, you’ll pick it up again. That’s all I ask. That’s enough for me.”
There was trust in that gaze.
This man—even when looking at the pitiful, washed-up 24-year-old version of Junhyuk—never once doubted his potential.
“…Yes, I understand.”
“Good.”
That was the end of their conversation.
And because of that… Junhyuk hated himself for answering that way.
He had taken his teacher’s final words—those words filled with hope and belief—and bound himself with them.
Turned them into chains of despair and self-cursed obligation.
He resented himself so deeply, he could hardly bear it.
And then—
FLASH.
The sound of cicadas in the summer heat rang in his ears.
His eyes opened.
The hum of the air conditioner echoed in his studio, fitting for a July summer.
“…Shit. For real…”
The dream had been too vivid.
The tablet he’d used as a pillow was now drenched in sweat.
“…What a damn nightmare.”
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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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