The editorial department of Silver Leaf Publishing was unusually quiet that afternoon.
Several editors sat behind their desks, surrounded by towering piles of manuscripts, unfinished reports, and cups of coffee that had long since gone cold.
Among them was a young editor named Sato.
He looked absolutely exhausted.
His hair was a mess, dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and his tie had loosened so much that it barely resembled part of a professional outfit anymore.
He stared at the manuscript in front of him.
Then he stared at the clock.
Then he stared at the manuscript again.
"…Another fantasy novel."
Sato sighed so deeply that a nearby colleague glanced over.
"Still going through submissions?"
"Unfortunately."
"Found anything good?"
Sato slowly turned his head.
"Do you want the honest answer or the answer that preserves my remaining sanity?"
"The honest answer."
"Nothing."
His colleague laughed sympathetically before returning to work.
Sato slumped against his chair.
For the past several weeks, he had been reviewing manuscripts from aspiring writers. Some had interesting ideas but terrible execution. Others had decent writing but painfully predictable plots. A few were so poorly organized that he struggled to understand what the authors had intended.
He wasn't trying to be cruel.
He genuinely wanted to discover a promising writer.
After all, finding a successful new series was one of the most rewarding parts of being an editor.
But after reading hundreds of submissions, even his enthusiasm had begun to fade.
Every manuscript seemed to follow a familiar formula.
A young hero discovered a mysterious power.
A kingdom faced an ancient threat.
A legendary weapon appeared.
And somehow, every protagonist possessed a tragic past and an inexplicable ability to defeat enemies far stronger than himself.
Sato rubbed his eyes.
Please, just give me something different.
He reached for his coffee.
Empty.
"…Wonderful."
He considered making another cup, but the mountain of manuscripts beside his desk reminded him that he still had work to finish.
With a resigned sigh, he pulled the next submission from the pile.
Its cover was simple.
Sword Art Online.
The title didn't immediately catch his attention.
There was no elaborate illustration, no impressive presentation, and no famous author's name printed across the front.
Just a title and an unknown writer.
Sato turned the manuscript over.
The submission information was attached to the back, but he barely glanced at it.
"Let's see what we've got…"
He opened the first page.
And began reading.
At first, Sato's expression remained unchanged.
He read the opening paragraphs with the same weary concentration he had given the previous manuscripts.
Then he encountered the premise.
A virtual reality game that allowed players to experience a fantasy world as though they were truly inside it.
Sato's eyes moved across the page.
Interesting.
The concept was familiar enough to understand immediately, yet it offered possibilities he hadn't encountered in quite this form.
He continued.
Thousands of players had entered the game, eager to explore its world.
Then the game's creator revealed the horrifying truth.
They could not log out.
Their physical bodies remained helpless in the real world while their consciousnesses were trapped inside the virtual environment.
And death inside the game meant death outside it.
Sato stopped turning the pages.
He read the passage again.
"…Wait a minute."
His sleepiness had begun to disappear.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
The premise was simple.
That was precisely what made it powerful.
The danger was immediately understandable. The stakes were absolute. And the central objective was clear: survive the deadly world of Aincrad and clear all one hundred floors to escape.
No complicated explanation was needed.
No lengthy introduction to ancient prophecies.
The author had established the central conflict in a way almost any reader could understand.
Sato felt a spark of excitement.
This could work.
He quickly turned the page.
Then another.
His coffee remained untouched.
The other editors continued working around him, occasionally exchanging complaints about deadlines and troublesome submissions.
Sato heard none of it.
He had become completely absorbed.
The more he read, the more astonished he became.
The world of Aincrad wasn't merely a backdrop for battles. It was a place where ordinary people had suddenly been forced into extraordinary circumstances.
Every player had something to lose.
Some were frightened.
Some refused to accept reality.
Others tried to convince themselves that everything would eventually return to normal.
But the longer they remained trapped, the more complicated their situation became.
Sato found himself thinking about the consequences.
What would happen to people who couldn't fight?
How would society change when survival depended on cooperation?
What would happen when fear drove people to abandon others?
And what kind of person would someone become after living for months in a world where a single mistake could cost them their life?
The manuscript opened countless possibilities.
It was an adventure story, certainly, but it also contained the foundations for something much larger.
A story about survival.
About loneliness.
About courage.
About the connections people formed when the world they knew had been taken away from them.
Sato's fingers tightened around the pages.
Who wrote this?
He checked the submission information again.
The author was unknown.
There was no established publishing history, no list of previous works, and no indication that the writer had ever released a novel before.
Sato stared at the name for a moment.
Then he returned to reading.
The characters gradually drew him deeper into the story.
Kirito's determination fascinated him. The dangers surrounding the players created constant tension, and the mystery of Aincrad made him want to discover what lay beyond the next page.
Whenever the story reached a quiet moment, Sato found himself appreciating the breathing room.
Whenever danger appeared, he leaned closer to the manuscript.
And whenever a chapter ended with an unanswered question, he immediately wanted to continue.
It was the kind of experience he had been searching for.
Not merely a novel with an interesting premise.
A novel that made him forget he was supposed to be evaluating it.
At some point, Sato realized he had been sitting in the same position for nearly an hour.
His back hurt.
His coffee was cold.
His eyes were beginning to feel dry.
He didn't care.
"Just one more chapter…"
He turned the page.
Then another.
Then another.
"Sato?"
No response.
"Sato."
The editor sitting beside him frowned.
"Sato!"
He finally looked up.
"What?"
His colleague stared at him.
"You've been ignoring everyone for the past hour. Are you all right?"
Sato blinked.
He glanced at the clock.
Then at the manuscript in his hands.
Then back at the clock.
"…An hour?"
"Yes. What are you reading?"
Sato slowly lowered the pages.
For a moment, he struggled to find the right words.
Then he looked at his colleague with an expression of absolute seriousness.
"Where is Editor-in-Chief Takahashi?"
His colleague raised an eyebrow.
"In his office, I think. Why?"
"I need to speak with him."
"About what?"
Sato held up the manuscript.
"This."
His colleague glanced at the cover.
"Sword Art Online? Is it good?"
Sato looked down at the title.
Good?
That word felt inadequate.
He had spent weeks reading manuscripts that left him struggling to remain awake. Yet this unknown author's story had captured his attention so completely that he had forgotten the world around him.
"I don't know how to explain it yet," Sato admitted. "But the premise is extraordinary, and the execution is far better than I expected."
His colleague's expression changed.
Sato wasn't the kind of editor who praised a manuscript without reason.
If anything, he was notoriously difficult to impress.
"And you want Takahashi to read it?"
"Immediately."
He stood up, gathered the manuscript carefully, and headed toward the editor-in-chief's office.
For the first time in weeks, he wasn't tired.
He was excited.
Editor-in-Chief Takahashi was reviewing sales projections when someone knocked on his door.
"Come in."
Sato entered.
Takahashi glanced up.
"Is there a problem?"
"I found something."
Takahashi looked at the manuscript in Sato's hands.
"Another submission?"
"Yes."
"Then put it in the review queue. I'll look at it when I have time."
"Sir, I think you should read this one today."
Takahashi paused.
He looked at Sato more carefully.
The young editor was standing unusually straight, his expression alert and his eyes bright with excitement.
It was a stark contrast to the exhausted man who had complained about manuscripts earlier that morning.
"What makes this one different?"
Sato placed the manuscript on the desk.
"It's called Sword Art Online. The basic premise is that thousands of players become trapped inside a virtual reality game, and if they die in the game, they die in the real world. Their only way out is to clear all one hundred floors of a floating castle."
Takahashi stared at him.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he leaned back in his chair.
"That's certainly an interesting premise."
"It's more than interesting, sir."
Sato's voice grew more urgent.
"The concept is easy to understand, the stakes are immediately clear, and the world offers enormous potential for a long-running series. I started reading it expecting another ordinary fantasy submission. I couldn't put it down."
Takahashi studied his subordinate.
"You read the entire manuscript?"
"Almost all of it. I stopped only because I realized I needed to bring it to you."
"And you believe it's worth my time?"
"Yes, sir."
Sato didn't hesitate.
Takahashi's expression became thoughtful.
For the past several weeks, he had been demanding something fresh from his editorial team. He wanted a novel that could distinguish Silver Leaf from its competitors.
Now one of his editors was standing in front of him, practically glowing over an unknown author's manuscript.
It would have been foolish not to investigate.
"Very well," Takahashi said, reaching for the pages. "I'll read it."
Sato released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Thank you, sir."
"However, don't expect me to agree with your assessment simply because you're excited."
"I understand."
"And if this turns out to be another mediocre submission, you're reviewing the next batch of manuscripts yourself."
Sato gave a tired smile.
"Fair enough."
He left the office.
Takahashi looked down at the cover.
Sword Art Online.
He turned to the first page.
"All right," he murmured. "Let's see what has you so excited."
Then he began reading.
At first, Takahashi approached the manuscript with professional skepticism.
He had been an editor for many years. He knew that an intriguing premise didn't necessarily produce a good novel.
A writer could possess an excellent idea and still ruin it through poor pacing, shallow characters, or inconsistent storytelling.
He had seen it happen countless times.
So he read carefully, examining the opening for weaknesses.
But the longer he read, the more his expression changed.
The initial concept was compelling, certainly. Yet what surprised him most was how naturally the story developed from it.
The revelation that the players were trapped created immediate tension.
The rules of the game established clear consequences.
The objective gave the story direction.
And the world of Aincrad offered a structure that could sustain a long series without feeling arbitrary.
One hundred floors.
One hundred opportunities for new challenges, new enemies, new locations, and new developments.
The possibilities were enormous.
Takahashi adjusted his glasses and continued reading.
Then he reached a particularly tense sequence.
His eyes narrowed.
He turned the page.
His fingers stopped.
"…Oh?"
He read the passage again.
The scene had built tension gradually, allowing him to understand the danger before delivering its emotional impact.
He leaned closer.
A few minutes later, he found himself gripping the manuscript more tightly than necessary.
This author understands suspense.
He continued reading, his earlier skepticism giving way to genuine interest.
The characters weren't simply moving through a fantasy world. Their decisions carried weight because the consequences were real.
A careless mistake could mean death.
A moment of hesitation could endanger someone else.
And even when the immediate danger passed, the knowledge that the players remained trapped hung over every decision.
Takahashi could already imagine readers discussing the story.
He could imagine them speculating about the next floor, worrying about the characters, and eagerly waiting for the next installment.
More importantly, he could imagine them recommending it to their friends.
That was what every publisher wanted.
A story that didn't merely sell copies, but inspired readers to return.
Takahashi turned another page.
Then another.
His sales reports sat forgotten on the desk.
The phone rang once.
He ignored it.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Not now!"
The person outside immediately fell silent.
Takahashi barely noticed.
He was too busy discovering Aincrad.
Several hours later, Sato returned to the office.
He knocked once before opening the door.
"Sir? How is—"
He stopped.
Takahashi was sitting behind his desk with the manuscript open in front of him.
His jacket had been removed and draped over the back of his chair. His glasses rested slightly lower on his nose, and several pages had been carefully marked with small notes.
He looked up slowly.
"Sato."
"Yes, sir?"
"Why didn't you tell me the manuscript was this good?"
Sato's face lit up.
"So you like it?"
Takahashi looked at him.
"Like it?"
He glanced down at the pages again.
"I've been reading for three hours."
Sato blinked.
"Three hours?"
"Three hours," Takahashi repeated. "I intended to review the opening chapters and make a preliminary assessment. Instead, I found myself reading far beyond what I had planned."
He leaned back, letting out a slow breath.
"This is exactly the sort of manuscript we've been looking for."
Sato grinned.
"I knew it!"
"Don't celebrate yet."
Takahashi raised a finger.
"We still need to examine the complete submission, determine whether the author can maintain this quality, and evaluate its commercial potential. We also need to check the rights and publication arrangements."
"Of course."
"But…"
Takahashi looked at the cover once more.
A rare smile appeared on his face.
"The premise is outstanding. The pacing is effective, the tension is strong, and the world has tremendous potential. If the remaining material holds up, this could become one of our most promising fantasy projects."
Sato felt his heart beat faster.
For weeks, Silver Leaf had been struggling to find a series that could compete with the successes of Black Crown Publishing and Rising Star Books.
Now, for the first time in a long while, he felt they might have found something capable of changing their situation.
Takahashi closed the manuscript carefully.
"Do we have the author's contact information?"
"Yes, sir. The submission includes the writer's details."
"Good."
He stood up and walked toward the window.
Outside, the city continued its usual rhythm. People hurried along the streets, unaware that a small editorial department had just discovered a story that might reshape its future.
Takahashi turned back toward Sato.
"I want you to contact the author and their guardian."
Sato paused.
"Their guardian?"
"The submission information indicates that the author is a minor, doesn't it?"
Sato quickly checked the attached information.
"Yes, sir. The author is Arima Masaki."
Takahashi nodded.
"Then we need to speak with both Masaki and his mother. We should arrange a meeting to discuss the manuscript, the possibility of publication, and what the process would involve."
Sato's excitement returned in full force.
"Should I tell them that we're interested?"
"Tell them we've reviewed the manuscript and would like to discuss it further. Don't promise publication before we've completed our assessment."
"Understood."
"And Sato?"
The young editor stopped at the door.
"Make sure they know we want to speak with them as soon as reasonably possible. If they're available, I'd prefer to arrange a meeting within the next few days."
Sato nodded firmly.
"I'll contact them tomorrow morning."
"Good."
Takahashi glanced at the manuscript one final time.
Arima Masaki…
Who was this unknown young writer?
How had someone without an established publishing history created such a compelling concept?
And could this be the breakthrough Silver Leaf had been searching for?
He didn't know the answers yet.
But he intended to find out.
That evening, after returning home, Takahashi took the manuscript with him.
He had intended to finish reviewing the remaining chapters at the office, but he wanted to examine the story without interruptions.
His wife found him sitting at the dining table, reading.
"You're bringing work home again?"
"Just one manuscript."
She looked at the thick stack of pages.
"That doesn't look like just one manuscript."
Takahashi smiled faintly.
"This one is different."
He continued reading long into the evening.
By the time he finally put the pages down, his earlier excitement had settled into something more deliberate.
The novel had flaws that would need discussion. Certain passages could be polished, and the editorial team would need to assess the story's long-term direction.
But those were problems worth solving.
The core idea was powerful.
The writing had captured his attention.
And the possibility of turning it into a successful series was real enough to warrant serious consideration.
He picked up his phone and sent Sato a brief message.
Arrange the meeting. I want to speak with Arima Masaki and his mother personally.
Then he returned to the manuscript, rereading a few of his favorite passages.
For the first time in months, Takahashi felt something he had nearly forgotten.
Anticipation.
Meanwhile, in a modest home far from Silver Leaf Publishing's offices, Arima Masaki was finishing his homework.
Shiori sat nearby, reviewing their notes about the publishing company.
"Masaki, I still think Silver Leaf looks promising."
"So do I. We should wait for their response, though."
"I know, I know."
She smiled at him.
"But I have a good feeling about this."
Masaki chuckled.
"You've said that several times already, Mother."
"And I'll keep saying it!"
She leaned over and kissed his crimson hair.
"Your novel made me want to read more. If the editors feel the same way, we might have a real opportunity."
Masaki looked at the manuscript's empty folder on the table.
He had done everything he could for now.
The story was written. The submission had been prepared. And the next move belonged to the publisher.
He could only wait.
Neither he nor Shiori knew that, across the city, two editors had spent hours reading his work.
Neither knew that the editor-in-chief had already requested a personal meeting.
And neither knew that Silver Leaf Publishing, a company desperately searching for its next success, had finally discovered a manuscript that made its editors forget their exhaustion.
Soon, a phone call would arrive.
A conversation would begin.
And Masaki's quiet effort to help his mother would take its first real step toward becoming something much greater.
End of Chapter 8