By Destiny
Sorry I don't know how to read and write Japanese. Good luck reading this novel!
I Used to be the Author of a Popular Isekai Light Novel Series but then my Competitor Killed me out of Jealousy and then I Reincarnated into the World that I Created for my Books
Chapter 1
A roar of ‘Congratulations’ could be heard throughout the room as I entered. A colorful banner draped over the podium, the weight clearly straining the zip ties to which it was attached to. The banner read “Congratulations on 250,000,000 Copies!” in large, neon letters.
“Perfectly gaudy. I approve,” I thought to myself.
“Takumi! Over here!” said a voice in the crowd.
I glanced at the source of the voice. It was my manager and editor, a rotund fellow whose plate was already full of food from the banquet.
“I was beginning to worry, the party officially started 30 minutes ago.” He said
“You can blame my sister for that, Mr. Yoshino. I asked my sister to pick out my outfit for tonight and she had trouble deciding.” I replied.
“What he means is that the only clean clothes he had were two socks, which didn’t match, so we had to do laundry right before coming.” My sister retorted. She was slightly shorter than me at 173 cm but had a personality that made her seem taller. She has always taken care of me since I was a kid and tonight was no different.
“Still could’ve been faster if you just let me wear what I always do” I said annoyedly
“Sure, you could look like shit for your celebration, OR, you could look like Japan’s #3 eligible bachelor.”
“Why #3?”
“Because #1 and 2 are obviously Taka from One OK Rock and Shinzo Abe”
“Your taste in men is so weird. Wait, and Shinzo Abe has a wife, he’s not a bachelor”
“I’d settle to be a mistress”
“Always the witty banter with you two. Glad you took your time to be honest. This is once in a lifetime achievement, you need to look your best. Who would’ve thought that your light novel series, I used to be a farmer but got reincarnated as a slime who has healing powers, a shield, and a smartphone, so I decided to open up a restaurant, would last 25 books and sell 250,000,000 copies around the world?” said Mr. Yoshino
“I wouldn’t be here if – oof!” my sister suddenly whacked me in the gut as she pointed up at the podium. A slim, elderly gentleman in a worn grey coat was standing there gesturing for everyone’s attention. It was the Mr. Hideo Miyamoto, the owner of the publishing company for my book. He was well into his 80s, having started his company, Weekly Joseinen of the Month Jump! back in the 1950s. While his body looked frail, his voice was powerful and projected through the whole room.
“Our publishing company started with 1 press and 2 editors. From there great works such as Two Pieces of Bleached Narutomaki and Neon Cowboy were made famous through the monumental effort of our staff. Now, today we celebrate perhaps the most impactful work of our generation, I used to be a farmer but got reincarnated as a slime who has healing powers, a shield, and a smartphone, so I decided to open up a restaurant by our very own Ushio Hironaka! Please, come up and say a few words”
My sister and editor pushed me forward. While I expected that Mr. Miyamoto would ask for a speech, I was still a bit nervous. You never do get used to the stares. I started to walk forward, weaving my way through the crowd. Pats on the back and the occasional “Congratulations” came from the surrounding people.
As I was nearing the podium, a sudden gasp and a scream came from behind me. I turned and immediately came face to face with Ito. His face ugly with rage, you could see his pain. I looked down as his hands. They were pressed up against my stomach with a glimmer of a knife hilt peaking between his fingers. He twisted the knife and then pulled it, making sure to slice whatever he could on the way out. I didn’t scream, the pain hadn’t hit me yet. The only sound I could make as the air left my lungs was “Why?”
“They dropped me for you. My writing was better. My plot was better. My characters were deeper, yet they chose you because Mr. Yoshino was your old college buddy. I should be on that podium. I would’ve been better.”
As my knees gave out and my fruitless attempt at stopping the bleeding with my hands became apparent, my mind began to wander. Perhaps it was the lack of blood and oxygen to my brain, but all I could think about was; man, I’m glad I let my sis pick my outfit. I would’ve died looking like shit.
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