Chapter 59

Tokyo, October 27th, morning.

"Sir, your coffee."

Shiratori Kiyoya snapped back to reality, pulling his gaze from the glass and nodded at the sales associate. He glanced at his watch.

10:18.

Twelve minutes until his scheduled meeting with the producer.

When meeting someone important, he always liked to arrive twenty to thirty minutes early. Not just out of respect or worry about unforeseen delays on the way.

Arriving early gave him a chance to reaffirm the purpose of the meeting, what he wanted to say, what he wanted to express, to anticipate what kind of person the other party was, what they might say, and how he should respond.

Shiratori Kiyoya never considered himself intellectually superior to others, so he especially put effort into preparation.

Not necessarily aiming for a perfect hundred percent, but at least ninety percent readiness.

After all, society wouldn't treat him like a child and tolerate his mistakes.

Today he was meeting a producer from M TV station. The opportunity came from their previous collaboration on a TV theme song.

But it was just a meeting chance. Whether it would succeed depended on the actual discussion.

Since mentoring Takahashi Mio, Shiratori Kiyoya had been thinking about their development path.

It wasn't hard to imagine—just like his relationship with Kitajo Shione.

Originally, he and Shione were lyricist/composer and singer; now with Takahashi Mio, it should be the relationship between producer and actress.

The reason was simple: to produce a TV drama, the core decision-maker at the start is the producer.

The process roughly goes: the producer has an idea or selects a script, submits it for planning, which is approved by the TV station's department heads, directors, and top management. Then the core team is assembled—screenwriters, directors, lead actors...

Of course, just as Takahashi Mio couldn't become an experienced actress overnight, he couldn't become a producer all at once.

Normally, he would participate in a script competition and win, but from submission deadline to results took about a year.

He couldn't wait that long, and who knew what might go wrong in between.

Besides, having connections was better than being clueless—contacting the producer directly, joining as a screenwriter first, then climbing up to producer by merit was obviously more efficient...

As Shiratori Kiyoya was thinking this, the café door suddenly opened. A middle-aged man in a suit asked the sales associate something.

Shiratori Kiyoya raised his hand in greeting. The man noticed, smiled, waved back, and approached him.

Fujikawa Shunpei hadn't even sat down before looking at Shiratori Kiyoya and saying,

"Ah, sorry for keeping you waiting, A-sensei."

"No, I came early."

"A-sensei's style hasn't changed."

Fujikawa Shunpei smiled, pulled out a chair, and sat down. He turned to the sales associate.

"Please bring a cup of Blue Mountain coffee, thank you."

"Certainly, please wait a moment."

After the sales associate left a few meters away, Fujikawa Shunpei looked at the young man's face with a complicated expression and said,

"Sigh, sometimes I really envy you—young and talented..."

"Miss Kitajo's new song is coming out soon too, right? I hear she's preparing for a concert. She's really going to establish herself in the music world. If I were a woman, I'd definitely marry you."

Shiratori Kiyoya smiled.

"Not at all, it's just an empty reputation. I've already run out of creative steam."

Fujikawa Shunpei narrowed his eyes.

"I also heard about your retirement, A-sensei. You don't know how many people say it's a loss to the music industry to see a talent like you retire."

Shiratori Kiyoya took his words as mere pleasantries, not taking them to heart.

The music circle's pie was only so big; jealous peers wished he'd retire sooner.

He smiled.

"Fujikawa-san, don't mock me. I really don't have that level anymore."

Seeing Shiratori unwilling to speak more on the subject, Fujikawa cut to the chase.

"But, well, the music industry's loss might be the literature world's gain. I'm really looking forward to the screenplay you mentioned, A-sensei."

Though he said this, it was just surface courtesy. He was here to do Shiratori a favor since they had cooperated before. If the script wasn't good, he'd probably just give a few pointers and leave without looking back. Next time, he'd send his assistant instead.

Hearing this, Shiratori nodded and pulled a small stack of scripts from his bag.

"These are my recent screenplays and outlines. Please, screenwriter Fujikawa, kindly review them."

"Alright."

Fujikawa Shunpei took the scripts and glanced at the title: The Kidnapper's Daughter.

A typical suspense crime genre.

His eyes then scanned the credited writer's name: Suspect X. He chuckled teasingly.

"Looks like I'll have to start calling you Mr. X."

Shiratori smiled but said nothing.

Fujikawa continued reading.

After half a page, his brow furrowed deeply, the wrinkles on his forehead forming a pattern resembling the character 'kawa'. He flipped further, sneaking another glance at Shiratori.

He wasn't expecting much but found the script very mature, with a neat overall structure and writing style, unlike a novice's work.

He opened his mouth, stared at the young man's face, hesitated, then asked,

"A-sensei, have you registered the copyright for this script?"

Shiratori understood the implied doubt about authorship. He opened his phone and brought up the website interface he had prepared earlier, placing it in front of Fujikawa.

"I just started the registration two days ago. It's not completed yet."

In Japan, scripts automatically enjoy copyright protection upon completion. The registration process in Tokyo usually takes about a month. He registered immediately to silence doubters.

In truth, no one really cared who wrote the script; as long as the law recognized it and it could earn money, that was enough. The origin didn't matter.

"Oh."

Relieved, Fujikawa praised, "As expected of A-sensei," and resumed reading.

As he read line by line, he gradually immersed himself. After about ten minutes, he looked up thoughtfully, stroked his chin, then glanced down at the outline again and asked Shiratori,

"Is there more after this?"

Shiratori smiled.

"It's still being polished, but the script for episode three will be ready next week."

In fact, the entire series' scripts and the original novel were locked away in his drawer at home. He only brought this much to spark Fujikawa's interest—part of the negotiation.

"Oh."

Fujikawa pondered a moment.

"I'll need to discuss specifics further..."

Shiratori's script was beyond his expectations.

The story was about a shocking infant kidnapping at a hospital. The kidnapper demanded a ransom of one hundred million yen. During the police chase, two main suspects died in a car accident, cutting off the trail, and the baby's whereabouts became a mystery.

Twenty years later, the suspect Akio Tsukumo's daughter, Asakura Hiroko, was hired by a well-known newspaper that had reported the case. However, a weekly magazine exposed her identity with the headline "Kidnapper's Daughter Joins Newspaper," stirring public controversy...

To manage the PR crisis and clarify the truth, the newspaper decided to reopen the cold case. As the investigation deepened, hidden truths from the past gradually surfaced.

The plot was tight, suspenseful, and the narration was steady...

"What are your expected royalties?"

Fujikawa asked cautiously.

Shiratori waved his hand.

"Those things are negotiable."

"I have only one request."

"Go ahead."

"Give a friend of mine a chance to audition."

"......"

-----------------

Six o'clock in the evening, the classroom bell rang. Takahashi Mio relaxed against the chair back, her body sliding down slightly.

After a whole day of studying, her brain seemed to have reached its limit.

No exaggeration, she had never been this exhausted even during college entrance exams.

Her eyes blankly stared at the clock on the blackboard, only snapping back when most of the class had already left.

She packed up her books, about to leave when Shiratori Kiyoya popped into her mind.

Pursing her red lips, Takahashi Mio took out her phone and messaged him to ask if he had eaten yet, and if he wanted to join her for dinner—her treat today.

However, her message went unanswered.

She frowned unconsciously.

It had been like this for days. He seemed particularly busy, hardly seen at school, and even when she messaged, it took him at least half an hour to reply.

What was he busy with?

Writing scripts?

Thinking back to that night watching Shiratori take notes, a smile involuntarily appeared on her face.

But then the smile froze instantly.

Could he be with another girl?

In her mind, Kitajo Shione and Hasegawa Saori flashed one after another.

Hasegawa Saori hadn't said anything, and Kitajo Shione had gone completely silent ever since she sent that message last time.

Mio wasn't sure if Shione had been shaken by what happened with Hasegawa Saori, or if she was just busy preparing for next month's concert.

After mulling it over, she decided to test the waters and ask Shione what was going on.

But just as she tapped open the chat window, a call suddenly popped up on her phone screen.

When she saw the word "Mom" flashing on the screen, she paused in surprise. Then she quickly came to her senses and picked up.

Normally, she called home about twice a week. But it had almost been a month now. So much had happened lately that she'd completely forgotten to check in.

"Hello? Mom?"

There was a long silence on the other end. Mio blinked and pulled the phone away from her ear to check if the call had dropped. Seeing it was still connected, she called out again.

"Mom?"

"I thought you'd gone missing."

Her mother's voice came through, full of quiet reproach. Mio bit her lip and gave an awkward laugh.

"Ah, sorry, Mom. I've just been so busy lately—I totally forgot to call you back..."

"You were never this busy before, Mio."

Mrs. Takahashi's tone was calm and gentle, even as she scolded her.

"That's exactly why, the busier you are, the more you should call home. You're out there all alone, under all that pressure. If you don't talk to your mom and just bottle everything up inside, that's not good for you."

"Do you still have enough money? You barely did any part-time work in high school, and now you're juggling school and a job. You must be exhausted, right?"

Mio's heart clenched at her mother's words, and tears welled up in her eyes. She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and forced a smile.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm doing okay."

"Sigh... You think I don't know how you're really doing? With no one to take care of you, I bet you're barely feeding yourself properly. Your dad and I have been really worried. We even asked your cousin to go check on you..."

Mio was touched by her mother's concern at first, her tears nearly spilling over. But the moment she heard that last part, her heart skipped a beat. She held back her tears and blurted out in shock:

"My cousin? She's coming to see me?"

"That's right. You hadn't called in so long, we were really getting worried. Your dad and I got in touch with your uncle..."

Mio didn't wait for her mother to finish. She threw her shoulder bag on and bolted out the door, asking in a panic:

"When is she coming?!"

Even though she couldn't see her daughter, Mrs. Takahashi could hear the urgency in her voice through the phone.

"What's wrong? She said she'd be there tonight. She should be arriving about now, I think?"

As soon as she heard that, Mio's expression twisted in panic. She bit down on her tongue and said,

"Got it. I'll call you back when I get home."

Without waiting for a response, she hung up and sprinted toward her place with the kind of energy she hadn't used since her last fitness test.

Damn it...

If she found out, she'd be screwed!