Parallel World Light Novelist

Chapter 199: Chapter 198: I Said “We’re Friends”... Why Did That Feel Like a Flag?

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A groggy Haruto woke up the next morning to find himself in an unfamiliar room. However, one look at the meticulously arranged decor, featuring various anime merchandise as focal points, and he immediately deduced his location.

”I’m at Yukino’s place?”

His gaze drifted to a prominent shelf in the living room. There sat the Anohana collectibles and the Kyubey plushie from Madoka Magica that he had gifted her months ago. Judging by their pride of placement, she clearly cherished them.

He checked the time on his phone. 10:11 AM.

’Great, I’ve missed my morning lectures.’

He could only hope the professor hadn’t taken attendance today. He had already been caught red-handed skipping class twice while doing roadshows for the To the Moon premiere; if he kept this up, he was at genuine risk of failing his credits by the end of the semester.

Soon, a beautiful woman wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and slippers emerged from one of the inner rooms.

”Oh, you’re finally awake?” Yukino chuckled, spotting Haruto’s bewildered expression. ”What’s with that look? Is waking up at my place that shocking to you?”

Of course, calling it ”her place” was a bit of a stretch, it was a rental.

With real estate prices reaching millions of yen for even modest apartments, and Yukino having poured every cent she owned into helping Haruto produce Madoka, she wasn’t in a position to buy property just yet.

Haruto noticed her damp hair and realized she must have just finished a morning shower. Yukino walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and yanked the curtains open. Blinding sunlight flooded the room, forcing Haruto to squint and shield his eyes.

Seeing his struggle, Yukino hesitated for a moment before heading into the kitchen. She returned and handed him a packaged bread roll and a carton of milk.

”Your breakfast, Chairman.”

”A bit meager, isn’t it?” Haruto laughed, tearing the packaging open and taking a bite. ”You promised me a feast yesterday. Is this it?”

”The feast is contingent on my father handing over the keys to his estate so I can inherit it,” Yukino replied, sipping her milk through a straw. After a pause, her tone turned more serious.

”Listen... I’m sorry about last night. My dad is a typical businessman through and through. I honestly thought he just wanted to treat you to dinner, but I didn’t expect him to ambush you with a pitch like that.”

”It’s fine, really. It’s only natural for him to think that way,” Haruto said with a smile. ”Actually, if he hadn’t brought it up, I might have forgotten that To the Moon even has a second part.”

Haruto understood his own situation well.

As he explored more of Shiori’s memories, he inevitably had to prioritize certain projects over others. In the original world, To the Moon was a niche indie title, but its performance here had completely shattered his expectations. Since the first movie was a hit, he certainly couldn’t let the sequel go to waste.

”So, does that mean you’re actually planning to produce a sequel feature?” Yukino asked.

”Of course,” Haruto said confidently. ”To the Moon is currently raking in hundreds of millions at the box office. Even if the sequel only performs half as well, it’s still a project worth over a hundred million yen in pure profit.”

”A hundred million...” Yukino’s expression turned distant.

”What’s wrong?” Haruto asked, noticing her sudden pensive mood.

”Nothing. It’s just...” Yukino sat on the sofa, gazing out at the clouds drifting past the window. The sunlight caught her profile, tracing a golden rim around her features. ”You’re moving so fast, Haruto. Two years ago, you were just a high school student. Last year, you were a promising rookie novelist. This year, you’re already a top-tier mangaka, a best-selling author, and a legendary scriptwriter. And now... you can casually decide the fate of projects worth billions.”

She turned her head, a self-deprecating smile playing on her lips. ”I feel like I’m going to be left behind sooner or later. I’m worried I’ll eventually just become a stumbling block in your path. This ’Vice Chairwoman’ title is starting to feel a bit heavy.”

”Why would you even think that?” Haruto asked, blinking in surprise.

”Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? A genius like you probably can’t comprehend the anxieties of us,” Yukino replied.

”I... there are things I can’t explain to you,” Haruto said after a brief hesitation. ”But regardless of how you see me, I’ve always known the truth: I’m just a regular person like you. Two eyes, two ears, just a normal guy.”

He paused, looking her in the eye. ”So, please, don’t let things get all heavy and philosophical. Let’s not let our friendship... sour.”

”Friendship... souring?” Yukino laughed. ”How exactly could it sour?”

”Uh...” Haruto found himself speechless and decided to change the subject. ”Look, let’s just drop it. All you need to know is that you’re my friend. That Vice Chairwoman seat is yours and yours alone.”

”Just keep working with me and help me manage this studio. Together, we’re going to build Haru-Yuki into the greatest animation company in the world.”

”Wow. You’re getting really good at that ’Big Boss’ motivational talk,” Yukino teased, resting her chin on her hand.

”...” Haruto had no retort for that.

Since they had no more classes that afternoon, they simply headed straight to the Haru-Yuki offices to dive back into work. The following day, Haruto received a package from Yukino’s father. Inside was a legal document, a formal licensing agreement. Because the film rights for To the Moon had been sold to Sugar Man Pictures, the character designs and visual assets created for the movie technically belonged to them. If Haruto wanted to produce a sequel independently, he would normally have to redesign everything from scratch.

However, this would trigger the ”first-look bias” problem.

In the original world, when a series like Attack on Titan changed animation studios for its final season, the shift in art style caused a massive backlash among fans.

Audience familiarity is a powerful thing.

Yukino’s father had anticipated this.

The agreement he sent was a ”goodwill” gesture: it granted Haru-Yuki the right to continue using the original film’s character designs for the sequel free of charge. This ensured that fans wouldn’t be jarred by a new art style while simultaneously preventing any potential copyright disputes.

”This is...” Haruto was genuinely taken aback.

’Mr. Gin is actually a much better person than I thought.’

---

The ”heat” surrounding the new theatrical releases began to fade. The Lame Detective, which had been the box office king on opening day, saw its daily revenue plummet to a meager ten million yen. This was the natural decay for a film with poor word-of-mouth.

But To the Moon was an anomaly. While its revenue did dip, it managed to pull in over twenty million yen even on the seventh day of its run.

The industry expected it to disappear by the following day.

They were wrong.

The next day, To the Moon maintained its twenty-million-yen curve.

And on the following day, which happened to be Friday, something unthinkable happened. Despite two major new movies premiering that day, To the Moon saw its numbers increase.

It broke the thirty-million-yen mark again, reclaiming the number one spot for the day.

The film industry stood frozen in disbelief.

While To the Moon hadn’t had a single day of astronomical earnings, its ”stamina”, driven by a near-perfect reputation, was terrifying. To be hitting thirty million yen on your ninth day in theaters was unheard of for a mid-tier production.

Haruto watched the data charts with a strange, familiar feeling. He had seen this exact box office trajectory before in his memories. It was identical to the run of a legendary film from his other world.

When that film first released, many critics were skeptical. Even after a strong opening, people laughed it off as a temporary ”otaku burst” that would fall off a cliff within days. In the forums of that world, people had mocked the idea of it being a blockbuster, betting that it would never even break its initial targets. Instead, that movie maintained a brutal momentum for an entire month.

Despite a lack of initial marketing, it rode a wave of ”fan-to-fan” recommendations to become a historic juggernaut.

Could it be? Haruto wondered as he analyzed the numbers.

If this momentum held, the total box office for To the Moon wouldn’t just hit the 1 billion yen projection, it might actually swell by another 500 million or more.

For an animated film that cost only 300 million yen to produce and 100 million to market, achieving that kind of result would result in a revenue-to-investment ratio of nearly four-to-one.