Living in the bubble economy of Tokyo, I became a literary giant through lotteries.

A conservative judge with gray hair slammed a copy of Sword Art Online onto the table, the paper making a crisp sound.

"Does this novel, which has absolutely no literary merit, deserve an award?"

"This is the first-ever fantasy novel award. We're looking for works like Kenji Miyazawa's *Night on the Galactic Railroad*, which can prove the status of Japanese fantasy literature. Even *Kaze no Matsusaburo* would be fine."

He paused, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

"What's the difference between this piece and a comic book drawn for children?"

"That's because you've gotten old and become cowardly!"

The radical representative across from him slammed his hand on the table and stood up, pointing to a pile of manuscripts half his height in the corner. His voice echoed in the conference room.

"Look at the stuff you've chosen: old-fashioned Western hero-dragon-slaying stories, fragmented European and American magic, and Japanese ghost stories that are just repeating the same few formulas over and over again."

"This novel," he said, picking up a photocopy from the table, his face flushed, "is a rare innovation. It's not a mythological world, not historical fantasy, but 'virtual reality,' a concept never before seen."

"What do you mean 'unprecedented'?" the conservative retorted. "Isn't it just a fantasy setting of swords and magic? It's just in a different shell."

"So what if it is!" The voice of the radical representative exploded in the conference room. "Look at those submissions, they're either showing off their vocabulary or pretending to be profound. There's not a single thing that makes people want to read them."

He took a deep breath, and his tone became calmer.

"This one is different; these core elements of fantasy are perfectly integrated into an unprecedented 'virtual game world'."

"It breaks the shackles of traditional fantasy and grasps the core of fantasy novels: adventure, passion, and the struggle of humanity."

He sat back in his chair, looking directly at the conservative judges across from him.

"Can the other works here do that?"

The meeting room erupted into chaos again, with the two sides arguing vehemently and neither side willing to back down.

Just then, the representative of Mitsui Fudosan, who was sitting at the end of the long table, raised his hand.

He was a middle-aged man in his early forties, dressed in a meticulously tailored dark gray suit and a neatly tied tie. The entire room fell silent, and all eyes were on him.

"Dear teachers," he said calmly, "I am just a businessman and don't understand what you mean by 'literary quality'."

"However, the market doesn't lie."

He took out a copy of Sword Art Online from his briefcase; the edges were already curled, indicating that it had been read many times.

"When the first meeting ended, I took a copy back with me, just to kill time and see what kind of book had caused such a big controversy."

His voice was the only one heard in the entire conference room.

"I've finished reading it, and it is indeed an excellent work."

He raised his eyes and swept them over everyone present.

"Moreover, I have a friend who works at Nintendo headquarters. After reading this novel, he immediately took a copy and ran back to the company."

Nintendo.

Even if the literary figures present look down on mass entertainment, Nintendo is still a true giant that has made games suitable for all ages.

"I've never seen my friend so excited. He said he would have his company buy the rights to the book so that everyone in Japan who plays the game would know about this novel."

The meeting room was so quiet you could hear the air conditioning running.

The radical representative seized the opportunity and stood up.

"Among everyone here, who hasn't played video games at home? Nintendo has made games suitable for all ages, isn't that exactly what we want?"

He looked at everyone present.

"Literature is never something confined to a high tower; it only has vitality when it enters the lives of the people."

"If you think that obscure and unapproachable things are what novels should be like, then you shouldn't even think about holding another award."

"It's already dead in this conference room."

The conference room fell into an eerily quiet silence once again.

At the head of the long table, the presiding judge remained silent for a long time. He was 67 years old and had spent his entire life working in the Japanese literary world.

He has seen too many "innovations" ultimately prove to be short-lived, and too many "traditions" be abandoned by the times.

But at that moment, he picked up the inkpad on the table and opened the lid.

"...This is it."

"Slap."

The red marks appeared on the original manuscript of Sword Art Online, like a spark that had been ignited.

……

In early February, winter in Tokyo finally showed signs of fatigue.

In early February, the snow stopped falling, but the wind was still blowing, dry and cold, like a knife scraping against your face.

The neon lights in Shinjuku appeared much dimmer in the morning light, like someone still hungover.

6 a.m., inside a convenience store.

The goods on the shelves were neatly arranged, and the oden pot was steaming, with the soup already changed.

Guan Gufeng stood behind the counter and handed over the work to the store manager.

The store manager, head down, tapped his fingers on the cash register buttons, counting the night shift's revenue.

"Guan Gu," the shopkeeper suddenly remembered something and asked without looking up, "how's your novel coming along?"

"I submitted it, and the results should be out soon."

The store manager said "Oh," without stopping what he was doing.

Once, Guan Gufeng forgot his manuscript at the shop. The shop manager found it while tidying up the counter. He originally only intended to flip through a couple of pages and put it back, but ended up reading the whole thing in one go.

From then on, the shop manager became Guan Gufeng's second fan, and he even specially instructed him: "Write well, and as long as you write well, you can eat whatever you want in the shop."

"Ha." The shopkeeper put the last banknote into the cash box, looked up, and had the kind of expression a father has when looking at his son. "Well, after your novel is published..."

He turned around and pointed to the display shelf against the wall behind him.

"I'll reserve this largest space in the middle to store your novel."

Guan Gu Feng looked in the direction he was pointing and smiled.

"Thank you very much for your support, store manager."

He picked up the homemade rice ball that the store manager had brought that morning, plum flavored, and was about to push open the door to leave.

"Ring ring!!!"

The sudden ringing of the telephone was particularly jarring in the empty convenience store, like a needle piercing the silence of the early morning.

The store manager picked up the receiver and said, "はい, 7-Eleven Shinjuku store です."

He listened for a few words, his eyebrows twitched slightly, and then he turned his head to look at Guan Gufeng.

"Guan Gu, it's looking for you."

Guan Gu Feng paused for a moment, then took the receiver from the store manager.

"Hello, I am Guan Gufeng."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then a voice rang out, filled with barely suppressed excitement.

"Mr. Kaze Sekiya! I am the person in charge of the 'First Fantasy Novel Award' from Yomiuri Shimbun. I'd like to speak about your work, Sword Art Online."

The person on the other end took a deep breath, seemingly gathering their emotions. "Congratulations! Your work has successfully won this year's Grand Prize after three judging meetings!"

"Also," there was a pause on the other end of the phone, "a representative from our sponsor, Mitsui Fudosan, has something they'd like to convey."

"He has a friend who is a high-ranking executive at Nintendo, and he may come to meet with you to discuss the copyright matters of this book."

"A representative will come to discuss the specific details of the bonus and publishing contract with you this afternoon. Would it be convenient for you to leave your address for the meeting?"

Guan Gufeng's mind was buzzing, but he managed to keep his voice steady.

"There's a Ramburu (coffee shop) near Shincho-sha, I go there after 3 pm."

"Okay, I wish you success in publishing your book."

"Thanks."

Guan Gufeng hung up the phone, his expression relatively calm, but the trembling of his fingers betrayed him.

The store manager stood to the side, watching Guan Gufeng's changing expression.

From initial calmness, to slightly dilated pupils, and then to an unconscious curve at the corners of the mouth.

Guan Gufeng turned around and looked at the store manager's kind face, which was full of expectation.

Suddenly, he smiled.

It was a laugh unique to young people, a laugh brimming with youthful vigor.

"Store Manager."

"Um?"

"The display shelf behind the bar," Guan Gufeng pointed to the spot against the wall.

"Remember to leave room for my novel."