Starting a new chapter in his life as a student in Tokyo, Haru never expected his world to be turned upside down. Across the street, he encounters Fujiwara, an aloof and enigmatic young man with a mysterious past. As Haru grapples with unfamiliar em...
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A chunky brown envelope sat on the table; its thickness gave a sense of authority. It had been sitting unopened since nine thirty this morning.
He glanced at the clock on his phone: 7:30 PM. Ten hours had passed since the envelope arrived, and he hadn't gathered enough courage to open it. He had postponed the unveiling, half-hoping that perhaps the envelope would miraculously spill its contents without his help. It wasn't that he lacked curiosity about the sender or the message within. He knew exactly who wrote this letter; in fact, he'd been anxiously wanted to read it for two whole months. But now, when the long-awaited response had finally arrived, a strange terror seized him.
He reached for the envelope, and its weight crushed his optimism instantly. He had received envelopes like this far too often. He tried to amuse himself. Maybe this time, it would be different. After countless disappointments, was it too much to wish for something good?
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and ripped the envelope's head. A few things slid from the inside, and one particular item fell onto the table with a heavy thud. A letter caught his attention first. His heart started to throb. He breathed out slowly and began to read the letter.
Fujiwara-san...
He didn't bother with the pleasantries at the header and dove straight into the heart of the matter.
We are sorry to inform you that we are currently unable to...
He had let his hopes soar too high. Again. Without finishing the letter, he knew it carried the same message he'd received countless times over the past years. They all sounded the same, with only some variations in the sentences.
There are elements in your story that may raise concerns...
It may potentially raise conflicts, considering the investigation is still on-going...
We advise you to seek council from a lawyer first because we don't want to take risk...
The sign-offs were always eerily similar: "Best of luck", as if all the editors responding to his letters were, in fact, one person. What he needed wasn't luck, but a chance.
He picked up the bundle on the table. Its edges were slightly curled, a sign that someone had at least taken the time to read it. He folded the rejection letter and went to the storage.
On the bottom shelf sat a big cardboard box, housing bundles similar to the one he held. The top bundles remained clean and crisp, standing in stark contrast to the dusty layers enveloping the ones below. The paper of the lower bundles had yellowed with time. Extracting them, he placed each bundle on the floor, one by one.
