The Editor's Final Page
The sound of keyboards clacking and the occasional ring of a telephone echoed irregularly through the editorial department of Shueisha's Weekly Shonen Jump. It was busy, yet one could call it peaceful—until the door burst open. The one who charged in was Akiyama, a second-year editor who had finally begun to shed his rookie status.
“D-Deputy Editor-in-Chief!”
Akiyama weaved hurriedly between the desks and stopped in front of Jung Junhyuk, who was tapping away at his keyboard while staring at his monitor.
“I-I… right now…”
Seeing Akiyama stammer, unable to organize his words, Jung Junhyuk spoke without lifting his eyes from the screen.
“Don’t panic. Speak slowly. Repeating yourself will only waste more time, so be clear.”
It was a cold remark, but it helped. Akiyama took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and finally delivered the main point.
“The Day Before the Apocalypse—Michi-sensei just said the final chapter manuscript will be late.”
“Michi-sensei? She’s not the type to miss a deadline.”
“W-Well… it turns out three of her assistants got into a love triangle fight and haven’t been reachable since yesterday. I tried to find replacements in a hurry, but there aren’t any decent ones available…”
“Haa…”
Since it was work done by people, all sorts of things could happen. A writer falling for an assistant, assistants falling for each other, or even three of them turning the whole thing into a fiery love-triangle circus. The last one was a first for him, but once it had already happened, what could you do?
Jung Junhyuk pushed up his glasses and pressed firmly on the bridge of his nose. He finally looked away from the monitor and turned to Akiyama.
“Akiyama.”
Just one word. Simply calling his name was enough to make Akiyama snap to rigid attention like a soldier.
“Y-Yes!”
“When did you say the assistants’ problem started?”
“It… was yesterday.”
“So a full day ago. Then what exactly have you been doing for the past twenty-four hours?”
“I-I tried to recruit assistants, but it wasn’t going well…”
“How did you try to recruit them?”
“I asked other people for introductions and looked through recent New Creator Award winners to find anyone whose style might match Michi-sensei’s art…”
“And?”
“And then I…”
Jung Junhyuk stood up from his seat and began calmly organizing his desk. Akiyama watched his superior’s expression carefully, but before he could find an answer, Jung Junhyuk spoke first.
“Akiyama, this final chapter is thirty-six pages long. That’s far more than a normal weekly installment. The very first thing you should have done was check the detailed progress of the work.”
“So far… she’s inked up to page seven. She said she’ll handle the rest of the inking and screentones together.”
“Screentones, inking, and finishing work are all time-consuming manual labor. In a case like this, you should have asked Michi-sensei to draw more detailed roughs and then secured assistants who are quick with their hands.”
Having finished tidying his desk, Jung Junhyuk was already gathering his belongings.
“Commit everything I just said to memory and make sure you don’t make the same mistake next time. How long are you planning to keep acting like a rookie?”
“Y-Yes! Understood! Then, Deputy Editor-in-Chief… what should I do right now…?”
After slinging his bag over his shoulder and putting on his coat, Jung Junhyuk answered calmly.
“There’s no time to find assistants. Michi-sensei is the type who powers straight through once she gets focused, so I’ll head over myself this time.”
With that, he pulled out his phone, pressed it to his ear, and strode confidently out of the editorial department.
“Haa… haaa…”
The moment Jung Junhyuk left, the previously quiet editorial office grew noisy again as everyone returned to work.
“As expected of the Deputy Editor-in-Chief. That charisma is no joke.”
A colleague who had been listening nearby approached Akiyama.
“Did you see how everyone went silent the second he started talking? It’s valuable teaching, so try to take away something from it.”
“There’s no one in this industry as famous as the Deputy Editor-in-Chief. Every writer he handles ends up with a hit series.”
Akiyama, who had just received a sharp scolding in front of Jung Junhyuk, let out a deep sigh.
“But what is the Deputy Editor-in-Chief planning to do? Does he know some assistant he can call?”
“He does know one. An assistant who answers calls 24/7, goes anywhere, and works incredibly fast.”
“Where would you even find an assistant like—huh…!”
Akiyama reflexively started to ask who it was, but the moment he recognized the owner of the voice behind him, his body stiffened like a board.
“E-Editor-in-Chief!”
“Yeah. But for someone whose boss just went to clean up his mess, you look awfully relaxed, don’t you?”
“N-No, that’s not…”
“I’m joking.”
The Editor-in-Chief patted Akiyama’s shoulder a couple of times and chuckled.
“That guy… he really is too good to be wasted as an editor.”
Jung Junhyuk’s neatly organized desk. Framed illustrations of the manga artists he had worked with over the years decorated it. Characters from popular series that had carried the magazine for the past decade. The drawings, packed with every ounce of the artists’ effort, were like love letters sent to their editor.
“What a shame. What a shame indeed.”
The Editor-in-Chief wore a somewhat bitter smile as he gazed at the now-empty desk.
“Uwaaaaaaaaah!”
In a 2LDK apartment that was a bit too spacious for one person. A convenient location reachable by a single train ride from central Tokyo. A manga artist with enough income to pay Japan’s exorbitant monthly rent without difficulty—Michi Arisa—was screaming inside her home.
“The end…! I can’t see the end at aaaaaall!”
Deadline sickness. A terrifying affliction that strikes creators—manga artists, novelists, designers—when a deadline looms. If not suppressed early, it progresses rapidly until the patient reaches the terminal stage, chanting the magic spell “I don’t caaaare! I’m not doing it!” before abandoning the manuscript and disappearing somewhere.
Especially when the problem comes from outside rather than the artist’s own fault, the illness advances with frightening speed. One must be extremely careful.
As a side note, Michi was currently progressing from stage three to stage four.
“Those damn assistant bastards! If they were going to fall for each other, they should’ve just dated quietly and kept the lovey-dovey stuff to themselves! Why! Why! Why! Why did they have to pull this sticky love-triangle drama at the worst possible time?! Whyyyyyy!”
This is unfair! So unfair! The world has abandoned me! She was in the middle of venting her resentment toward people, the world, and even God when the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong—
The temper of a manga artist facing a deadline is equal to—or worse than—that of a Korean high school senior before the college entrance exam. Everything in the world looks hateful and detestable. At that moment, one feels capable of shooting down airplanes with sheer willpower.
With eyes blazing with a spirit that wouldn’t lose even to a red-haired tyrant’s Conqueror’s Haki, the manga artist flung open the front door.
“Who is it?! I’m busy as hell—”
But she was still human. Even a Korean high school senior would shut their mouth if someone truly exceptional appeared.
“J-Jung… Mr. Jung?”
“It’s been a while, Michi-sensei. I heard you were having trouble with the manuscript and came right away. I wanted to call ahead, but it seems you were too focused on work to pick up. I’d like to greet you properly, but shall we put out the urgent fire first?”
“Ah, y-yes… yes… Um, Mr. Jung, wait! The house is really messy right now! C-Could you wait ten minutes? No, five minutes? I’ll open the door right away!”
“Huh? No, there’s no need to go to such—”
Bang!
As if to say questions would receive no rebuttal, Michi slammed the door shut immediately. From inside came several loud thumps and crashes that were difficult to imagine. Then—
“Mr. Jung, I’m sorry for making you wait so long.”
The deadline-crazed manga artist who had been wearing sweatpants with her hair messily tied up and ugly horn-rimmed glasses was gone. In her place stood a graceful, youthful woman who looked like a college freshman, smiling brightly as she welcomed Jung Junhyuk.
“Ah, yes. It’s fine.”
There were many things he wanted to say, but he kept them to himself. It was a virtue Jung Junhyuk had learned through years of social life—and a kind of survival instinct. The instinct that said: just keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.
Jung Junhyuk pretended not to notice the magazines sticking out from under the sofa or the various small bits of clutter, and followed the homeowner into Michi’s workspace.
“I heard the situation from Akiyama. May I check how far you’ve gotten?”
“Ah, yes. While you check, I’ll make some tea…”
“It’s alright. And here. It’s not much, but I picked up a few things on the way. I bought the hamburger you used to like. If it doesn’t suit your taste anymore, there are other options, so please help yourself.”
“Th-Thank you…”
Jung Junhyuk had been Michi’s editor for several years back when she was still a rookie. He knew her habits inside and out—how she would skip meals and focus solely on work when a deadline approached, and how much she loved hamburgers. Even though it had been nearly three years since he stopped being her editor, the fact that he still remembered such details filled her with both gratitude and embarrassment.
While Michi stared at the various foods inside the paper bag, Jung Junhyuk kept his eyes fixed on the monitor and spoke clearly.
“The roughs for the latter half still aren’t done. I’ll handle the inking and finishing work, so please focus on drawing the roughs for the back half first. Mark any parts you want to emphasize, and I’ll make the adjustments on my end.”
An editor who could operate the digital program that every manga artist used with practiced ease. Because Jung Junhyuk had been her very first editor, Michi had once mistakenly believed that every editor knew how to use the software.
After giving Michi concise instructions, Jung Junhyuk plopped down on the sofa.
“You haven’t eaten yet, have you, sensei? I know you’re in a hurry, but let’s eat first. If you collapse, that really will be the end of the manuscript.”
Normally she would have refused, but perhaps it was because a reliable reinforcement named Jung Junhyuk had arrived. Michi nodded and finally ate her first proper meal in two days.
Ding-dong—
“E-Excuse me.”
Even though the highly competent Deputy Editor-in-Chief was handling his work for him, no company employee would shove their responsibilities onto their superior and then leave work with a clear conscience. Well, some might, but they probably wouldn’t last long. Having tact and a conscience was a necessary virtue for anyone living in society.
That was why, even though he knew he wouldn’t be much help, Akiyama felt obligated to go see the scene where his boss had gone to clean up his mess.
Click—
The door finally opened, and Jung Junhyuk greeted Akiyama.
“Akiyama, did you come because you were worried about the situation?”
“Ah, hahaha! Of course! No matter how incompetent I am, I still have a sense of responsibility!”
“Perfect timing. The manuscript is almost at the final stage.”
Akiyama had unconsciously let out a slightly exaggerated laugh to shake off the awkwardness and pressure, but Jung Junhyuk answered in his usual calm tone.
When Akiyama stepped into his assigned manga artist’s workspace, he looked around with wide eyes. It was the same studio he visited regularly for meetings, yet something felt off in many ways.
First, Michi-sensei—who always wore comfortable clothes—was dressed up nicely. Second, there was a complete absence of the assistants he thought the Deputy Editor-in-Chief would have called via hotline.
“…Deputy Editor-in-Chief, where are the assistants…?”
Akiyama’s question didn’t last long. Before he could get an answer, Jung Junhyuk moved and showed him the solution in person.
“Sensei, please check this part.”
“Looks good. Please finish it off just like that.”
Jung Junhyuk was sitting in front of the large LCD tablet where an assistant should have been, playing the role of assistant himself. And above all else—
“…No way.”
From where he secretly watched from behind, the work speed was astonishing. Whether it was the speed of his pen or his mastery of the manga program’s tools, it was clearly not the skill of someone who had only done it once or twice.
‘He could probably be a manga artist himself…’
Just because someone could draw well didn’t mean they could become a manga artist, but Jung Junhyuk’s hand movements were so exceptional that the thought crossed Akiyama’s mind. And this was coming from a current editor, no less.
How many hours had he stood there in a daze? He wasn’t sure.
“Akiyama, check the completed pages as well.”
“Ah, yes…”
Akiyama turned his eyes to the monitor as if in a trance and let out an involuntary gasp of admiration. It was a manuscript completed without assistants, yet the quality looked far better than when assistants had been present.
“I-It’s good. At this pace, it looks like we can make the deadline without any problems.”
Watching Jung Junhyuk single-handedly doing the work of the original three assistants—or perhaps even more—Akiyama swallowed hard.
“When Michi-sensei was a rookie, I often filled in as her assistant. We did it that way for two years, so it’s easy for me to match her rhythm.”
“I-I see…!”
Jung Junhyuk had read the emotions on Akiyama’s face and offered an explanation, but that didn’t erase the younger editor’s astonishment. No, this wasn’t a matter of experience. What kind of editor possessed high-level assistant skills on top of everything else?
After giving the short explanation, Jung Junhyuk immediately returned his focus to the manuscript. Several more hours passed like that.
“Sensei, it’s finished.”
The backlog of work that had seemed impossible was completed in just ten hours. One might argue that ten hours wasn’t exactly “just,” but given how short-handed they had been and how uncertain it had looked with only two days left until deadline, it truly felt like “just” ten hours.
‘W-What on earth is going on…?’
It wasn’t simply that he had worked like an assistant. He had given Michi appropriate advice at the right moments, suggested scene changes, and shared ideas. He had even deliberately included Akiyama, the assigned editor, in the confirmation process. The entire sequence had flowed so naturally and swiftly.
‘So this… is what an editor can be?’
Watching the work process of Jung Junhyuk—who was currently considered the top in the industry—was an incredible learning experience in itself.
“Akiyama, are you very tired?”
“Ah! No, I’m fine!”
Jung Junhyuk lightly patted the dazed Akiyama’s shoulder and handed him a drink.
“Good work. Once Michi-sensei finishes the final touches, review the manuscript thoroughly and submit it.”
“Yes! Understood!”
“It’s already morning. After you submit the manuscript, take a half-day off and get some rest.”
“Ah, no, that’s—”
“Rest.”
“Yes!”
Thinking it would be best not to disturb Michi while she was focused on the manuscript, Jung Junhyuk left those words of encouragement for his junior and stepped outside.
It had already been more than ten years since he first set foot in Japan. Looking back, his life had been full of twists and turns of all shapes and sizes. He lost his mother at a young age, then lost his father while still young himself. He had dreamed of becoming a manga artist, but because the income was so uncertain—when it would start and how much it would be—he had been forced to set that dream aside.
To survive in the world together with his sister, who was seven years younger, there had certainly been other paths. Yet he couldn’t completely let go of manga, so he had stubbornly walked the path of a manga editor.
Thanks to living diligently for the sake of life itself, his salary was decent for his age. His younger sister had also decided on her career path and was about to graduate from university. There was nothing left to really worry about.
Despite all the ups and downs, the fact that his life could be summarized in less than a single page felt truly ironic.
As he watched cherry blossom petals dancing in the wind and entertained such trivial thoughts—
Beeeeeeeeeep—!
A large truck blaring its horn entered his vision, along with the sight of a small child picking up a ball in the middle of a large intersection crosswalk right in front of him.
“—!!”
There was no time to hesitate. The child happened to be only five steps away. If he moved now, he could just barely avoid the truck. In that brief instant, he made the judgment and sprang into action, wrapping his arms around the child and throwing himself forward.
Fortunately, he managed to avoid the truck as planned.
However, he could not avoid the passenger car speeding down the adjacent lane.
Screeeeeech—!
Still clutching the child, he was struck by a dull impact and lost consciousness.
“Someone call an ambulance!”
The murmur of the crowd that had gathered and the piercing wail of a siren.
“Patient is in cardiac arrest!”
As his heart stopped and his life began to fade, Jung Junhyuk voiced a few regrets in his mind.
One was that his end had come not in his home country. Another was the regret of never having pursued his dream. But what weighed on him most was the thought of his little sister left all alone.
It had been quite a while since he last saw her face because he had been so busy working overseas… They say death doesn’t wait its turn, and it seemed that saying was true. He had been living an ordinary day like any other, and now this.
With that final thought, he quietly closed his eyes.
.
.
.
And then.
“Is this some kind of otaku-exclusive heaven…?”
He opened his eyes inside a mysterious space. A pure white area filled with enormous bookshelves. His mouth fell open as he stared at the countless manga volumes packed tightly inside them.