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605 — A Dirty Deal
🕑 Added 2025-10-22 17:31:08 +0000 UTCThe corporate drones’ wretched wails weren’t pleasant to hear, but they hit people right in the chest.
In the short manga, the protagonist watched the company receptionist—pretty Junko—go into the president’s office with a smile, then come out with her face flushed.
That image broke a lot of readers’ defenses. Soon everyone was sharing gossip about their own bosses.
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“Damn it—I've been busting my ass to make the boss money. Why do I still have to sleep with him?!” — [I won’t cry.]
“Maybe it’s because you make the boss his money that he can afford to sleep with pretty underlings? (lol)” — [No story.]
“Hey, my girlfriend works at a great company. After overtime the boss always walks her home to our building.
He’s a big shot, but he chats with me like he’s a nice guy and apologizes for taking so much of my girlfriend’s time. He’s honestly the most humane boss I’ve ever seen.” — [Rooting for the protagonist’s dream to come true.]
“...”
“...”
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The noisy thread suddenly fell silent—everyone seemed to freeze, like someone hit pause.
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“Wait, aren’t the three people the protagonist kills supposed to be company bosses?”
“Didn’t you read Hojou-sensei’s interview? This story’s about a corporate drone who joins the literary world, fights for awards, and ultimately finds happiness in a different way.”
“So who gets killed—”
“Dude, no spoilers!”
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That explosive comment vanished like it never existed, and everyone moved on to a new topic in perfect unison.
Celebrities who’d tasted the sweet publicity yesterday weren’t about to get off the train—some shamelessly jumped in. One said they’d dieted crazily for a role.
Another complained about abusive treatment from a director.
Someone else insisted they kept acting even after cutting their hand on a plant.
But today they miscalculated badly.
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“Dieting to make money? I had to pay to diet! If dieting made you cash, I’d turn myself into a rack of braised pork ribs.”
“You get famous lying in bed; I have to deal with this boss who’s as fat as a pig and still hand-copy files before I even straighten my clothes.”
“Are you serious? ‘I cut my hand on a leaf’—what a line. I get it, you’re obviously shilling for skincare.”
“...”
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Each celebrity trying to play the pity card got dumped on with a truckload of insults.
If Eriri saw this online circus, her dictionary of swear words would grow a few centimeters.
In fact, she was watching—along with Kato Megumi and Naoka—crammed into the art clubroom.
They were giggling and furiously tapping their phones, having the time of their lives.
“These idiots,” Eriri cackled. “Don’t they know that dumb netizens are just here for entertainment? They’re trying that manipulative fan-script here—do they not remember what Hojou’s earliest supporters are like? They won’t buy it.”
When Hojou first started serializing, Eriri and someone else had sneaked into bookstores to observe—nobody knew his fanbase better than she did.
Besides, she was the ultimate webmaster of Hojou Kyousuke’s site!
Even Kasumi Utako’s novels had become hot online currency, flipping value once the wrong crowd grabbed them.
Those fans weren’t ordinary idol-chasers.
Megumi smiled softly, but it was strained.
In Eriri’s stream of dumb netizen comments she’d found her cousin’s user ID—he was desperately defending a favorite actress, urging her to join the “Rampage Angels.”
Saying if she practiced kendo hard she’d gain the strength to say no, even threatening to decapitate any director who tried to take advantage of her.
And as it turned out, her cousin Keiichi had apparently gotten friendly with the Rampage Angels at a training camp—some members had even posted messages cheering him on.
There was no saving him.
Megumi inwardly resolved to ask Hojou to up Keiichi’s training intensity next time.
Yesterday’s three posters had set an intense tone—blood, death, and then tragedy with erotic undertones.
With Hojou Kyousuke’s website at the hub, the surge of traffic and heat wasn’t just making celebrities jealous; even Tokyo politicians were getting fired up.
These local politicos, who looked like walking influencers, couldn’t resist poking in whenever something popped online.
To grab voters’ attention, they had to keep showing up.
When a social topic trended, they had to weigh in: to show they cared, and maybe, by chance, spark a reaction that would win them votes next election.
One former rural politician told his daughter on the phone that if his old secretary had been as capable as Hojou Kyousuke, he wouldn’t have had to shout from atop a small campaign truck every day, drunk and exhausted.
A former shrine maiden rolled her eyes and told her dad if he ever wanted to run again.
Kyousuke wouldn’t mind helping him drum up votes on the site.
The ex-politician nearly got excited, then laughed awkwardly and insisted he didn’t really like politics—he’d only done it for the happiness of his two daughters.
On Twitter, more than a dozen Tokyo lawmakers had already publicly commented, saying laws still needed improvement—some from major parties, some heavy hitters.
One particularly enthusiastic LDP lawmaker, Daisuke Yamaguchi, even screenshot the top-liked posts from Hojou’s site and invited those users to DM him; he promised to champion their cause and “administer justice.”
Then he launched into his platform: he’d been watching Hojou’s new book closely and hoped the author would act as a “teacher to the nation,” boldly exposing social injustices.
He promised to be a rock-solid backer and to take every proposal that made the country better seriously.
Kisaki Tetta, who monitored online opinion around the clock, sneered at the post. “All rotten maggots pretending to be saints,” he muttered.
His plan was to pull the companies named by the angry commenters into the mess and fan the flames.
That lawmaker—whose seat was basically inherited—would, if Kisaki found those commenters, be far from administering true justice.
At best he’d squeeze those companies and fold them into the political machine—coax them into paying political donations, not compensating workers.
Thinking that, Kisaki quietly directed his team to drive traffic toward that lawmaker.
Lots of politicians were making noise, but Yamaguchi Daisuke was the most useful: he came from an honest political family.
His father had even been the ruling party’s election strategy committee member.
At that very moment, the comment section under Yamaguchi Daisuke’s post was already flooded with praise from several fellow party members.
They applauded his “sense of responsibility as a politician,” calling him “a true man of the Heisei era” and all that.
But the general public’s reaction?
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“Damn, this guy’s a real schemer!”
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Comment after comment copied that line.
Nobody was dumb—everyone could see this was just a PR stunt to ride the hype.
Still, Yamaguchi Daisuke wasn’t one to be rattled.
As a new-generation politician who knew how to work social media, he didn’t even bother denying it. Instead, he immediately posted again:
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“So, are you satisfied with my little scheme this time?”
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He even added a string of laughing emojis.
The man was completely shameless—textbook politician behavior.
Then, not forgetting to thank the “source of his inspiration,” he mentioned The Writer’s Dream and Death, saying it was all thanks to that book that he’d gotten the chance to engage with the public.
He admitted he hadn’t actually read it yet, but said it “seemed like a masterpiece.”
Smooth move—turning a cheap stunt into an image of cultural sophistication.
Surprisingly, it worked. His new “authentic and relatable” persona won over quite a few online viewers.
One of the top-liked comments read:
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“Politicians are all trash anyway—might as well vote for the funny one.”
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Whether that came from his campaign team or a random netizen, nobody knew.
Meanwhile, over on Kisaki’s side, Yamaguchi’s team had reached out.
The secretary on the other end couldn’t stop gushing:
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“Hojou-san is such a responsible writer! A true teacher of the nation! Japan needs more artists brave enough to whip society with words like him!”
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Kisaki, of course, responded with practiced humility:
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“Oh no, Hojou-sensei merely observes the world through his wise eyes. Real change must come from the pillars of society—politicians like Yamaguchi-san.”
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The man was so smooth he even quoted a few lines from Yamaguchi’s campaign speeches, claiming that Hojou had long admired him and would definitely vote for him once he was of legal age.
The two of them practically bathed each other in honeyed flattery. Even the Wi-Fi signal between them felt sticky with sugar.
Both sides understood perfectly well that the other was full of crap—and that’s when the real deal-making began.
Soon after, Yamaguchi Daisuke posted again:
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“I’m honored to announce that I’ve invited Hojou-san to appear with me on a TV talk show after the release of The Writer K’s Dream and Death. We’ll be discussing novels, life, and the modern working class.”
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Kisaki immediately replied using Hojou Kyousuke’s official account, confirming the appearance and— for the first time—asking everyone to support the upcoming release.
The moment Hojou officially appeared in the spotlight, fans lit up like fireworks.
His comment section exploded.
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“You’ve got time to draw promo art this detailed, but not to update One Punch Man?!”
“Nonsense! He should be updating Attack on Titan! Hojou-sensei, I’ve already written the outline for you—just draw it! Free of charge!”
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Within minutes, the tone of the comments had completely changed.
Sure, Hojou was notorious for his slow updates, but most fans still sympathized with him.
After all, juggling two weekly series would’ve killed any other artist.
But now, seeing that he had time to write a novel and draw promo manga for it, the fans’ patience snapped.
If they could, they’d probably chop off their own hands and attach them to his body just to make him work faster.
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“Hold up! Don’t you guys wanna see a Sword Art Online manga drawn by the original author?”
“You know what… now that you mention it…”
“Agreed!”
“Seconded!”
“I wanna see NTR scenes!”
“Shut up! Take your damn NTR and go die!”
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In just a single minute, the post gained over three thousand comments.
Hojou Kyousuke’s sheer popularity left even the actors and politicians following the trend completely stunned.
Yamaguchi Daisuke, who had secured the collaboration first, could barely contain his excitement.
He was already imagining the next step—what if Hojou wrote a novel starring him?
Picture it:
A young, brilliant politician finds himself at the center of a murder case during a campaign rally.
The police are stumped, the public is enraged, and the fate of the election hangs in the balance.
Fueled by justice, he uses his razor-sharp intellect to solve the crime, uncovering a sinister plot orchestrated by the opposition.
And in the end—he stands as the one beacon of hope in a corrupt political world.
“A collaboration of art and politics! A masterpiece of truth and justice! WIN-WIN!”
Yamaguchi was practically trembling with excitement.
His family’s legacy would rise again—with him at the center of it all.
He immediately ordered his staff to come up with a campaign plan to milk every last drop of publicity from Hojou’s fame.
At the same time, a message came in from Kisaki Tetta.
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“Yamaguchi-san, would it be possible to reach out to someone in the Ministry of Education? The president of the Mystery Writers’ Association, Mr. Konno, is planning a reform summit and hopes for broad public support…”
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Yamaguchi didn’t even hesitate.
He instantly agreed.
After all, Hojou’s new book was about corruption in literary awards—clearly the association was on board too. This was about to become a very big cake, and everyone was invited to take a slice.
Meanwhile, comments continued pouring in under Hojou Kyousuke’s latest tweet.
The overwhelming majority were just fans demanding updates, which made him break out in cold sweat.
Finally, once the hype reached a fever pitch, he posted a follow-up:
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“I completely understand everyone’s feelings now! So, as a thank-you, aside from my short manga Blood and Dreams of a Salaryman.
I’ve also prepared an exclusive bonus story titled 372 Days of Happiness!
Anyone who purchases The Writer K’s Dream and Death will have a chance to get it—while supplies last!”
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The fans immediately started roasting him even harder.
“So this was your plan all along, huh?”
But despite the complaints, Hojou knew them too well—while their mouths cursed him, their wallets spoke the truth.
An hour later, the publisher called. Every major bookstore had already placed massive reorders.
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“What can we say? Hojou-sensei may be lazy, but the man delivers. The quality of Blood and Dreams of a Salaryman rivals any top-tier serial. I’m sure 372 Days of Happiness will be just as amazing.”
“Yeah, but seriously, what does 372 even mean? Is it about a salaryman who finally gets to rest 372 days a year?”
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