Chapter 192: Tough Talk (Patreon)

The slap left Tomoya a little dazed, but he refused to back down.

He stuck his neck out stubbornly and trotted out the same old spiel.

"What would a normie like you know about creating anything? Doujin games are the calling of people like us who love the 2D world! We're going to change this industry! Someone like you could never understand!"

Shido Makoto repeated the words back at him. "Change the industry? With these few sheets of scrap paper?"

His eyes flicked to the stack of proposals on the table.

Tomoya shot to his feet.

"What did you say?! I stayed up three nights straight making that! Who are you to say that?!"

That outburst made an even bigger scene.

The restaurant manager hurried over, looking thoroughly uncomfortable.

"Gentlemen, ladies, please keep your voices down. You're disturbing the other guests."

Tomoya whipped around and glared at him.

"We're discussing a project worth millions!" He swept an arm through the air.

"What would a waiter know? Don't butt in where you don't belong!"

The manager's face went from pale to flushed and back again. He stood rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do.

Shido Makoto glanced at him.

"My apologies," he said to the manager.

"Give us three minutes. After that, I guarantee it'll be quiet."

The manager looked at the calm young man, then at the bespectacled guy still shouting. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded and backed off a few steps.

Kasumigaoka Utaha, the girl with the long black hair, had been sitting there watching the whole time.

She'd been about to snap at Tomoya a few more times. She was still seething from earlier, after all.

But one look at the boy who'd just appeared beside her, and the words died in her throat.

Utaha decided to wait and see.

At her own table, Sora sat with her chin propped on her hand, enjoying the show immensely.

Shido Makoto looked at Tomoya. "You say it's a multi-million project. Then if we're discussing a project, let's do it like adults."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tomoya asked warily.

"Tell me what's actually written in your proposal," Shido Makoto said.

"You said you'd read it, didn't you? If you did, then go ahead and say it," Tomoya sneered.

"If you can't, that means you never read it. You're just putting on an act. What right does a normie who can't even understand a proposal have to judge my life's work?"

He thought he had his opponent cornered.

This guy had never so much as touched the proposal. How could he possibly know what was in it?

Once he failed to answer, Tomoya could use the chance to throw him out and go back to pressuring Kasumigaoka-senpai into submission.

Utaha looked over at Shido Makoto too.

Honestly, she was curious.

He'd just claimed he'd read the proposal, but that stack of paper had been in Tomoya's hands the whole time. He'd never had a chance to flip through it.

"Doujin game proposal, first page, preface: 'This project aims to create a heartwarming romance adventure game, powered by love and passion, and to make the greatest work in all of Japan.'"

The sneer on Tomoya's face stiffened. He really knew it?

Shido Makoto kept reciting. "Second page, team structure: 'Producer: Aki Tomoya. Scenario: Kasumi Utako (TBD). Art: TBD. Programming: TBD. Music: TBD.'"

"You—"

Tomoya stood up.

Utaha's eyes went wide.

She was certain this man had glanced at that stack of paper once at most, and only from a distance.

She'd been staring at Tomoya the entire time. There was no way the man could have gotten his hands on the proposal.

But how was this possible?

Utaha's mind went blank.

She'd written so many novels and met all sorts of people, but she had never seen anyone memorize an entire page of text at a glance and repeat it word for word.

Shido Makoto turned his gaze back to Tomoya's face.

"I memorized your proposal with one look just now. Want me to keep going?"

Tomoya stammered, unable to get out a single full sentence.

"H-how… That's impossible…"

"You know in your heart whether it is," Shido Makoto said, leaning back in his chair.

"Let's get down to business. Your proposal has serious problems."

Utaha scooted forward in her seat.

She was no longer merely curious.

She wanted to hear what the man who'd memorized the whole thing at a glance really thought of it.

She'd been fuming for ages without being able to put it into words, and it had been bottled up inside her.

"There's no budget anywhere in it."

Shido Makoto reached over, pulled the stack of proposals toward himself, flipped through a couple of pages, and tossed them back.

"A multi-million project, and it doesn't say a word about how the money will be spent."

Tomoya tried to speak.

"There's no market research." Shido Makoto didn't give him the chance.

"You say doujin games are the next big wave. Based on what? Who are the competitors? Who's the target audience? Who are you selling to? How? Not a single word."

"You—"

"There's no profit sharing."

"'Scenario is unpaid; copyright belongs to you; you handle distribution of revenue.'"

"In plain terms: someone writes for you for free, the copyright isn't even hers once she's done, and if there's any profit, how it's split depends on your mood."

Utaha's expression darkened.

Of course she knew that clause was in the proposal.

But for certain reasons, she hadn't cared about it at first.

Now that Shido Makoto had laid it out point by point, she snapped fully awake.

Right.

Why on earth had she been so polite to this guy?

Shido Makoto pushed the stack of paper back in front of Tomoya. "The whole proposal is nothing but slogans. 'The greatest game,' 'heartwarming,' 'powered by love.' Apart from that empty talk, there's nothing concrete in it at all."

Tomoya's face swelled to the color of pig liver.

"You can't measure dreams in money!" he roared.

"A man whose head is full of calculations like you will never understand the value of creation! Money, money, money. Money is all you see!"

Shido Makoto let out a cold laugh. "Looks like your face doesn't hurt anymore?"

Tomoya hurriedly shrank back.

Meeting those eyes, Tomoya felt an indescribable pressure bearing down on his chest. Breathing became difficult, and his calves began to tremble.

"You say dreams can't be measured in money," Shido Makoto went on.

"Fine. So what you're telling me is that making a writer give up her royalties and work for you for free—that's your dream?"

Tomoya's mouth hung open.

"You can't write a single line of code or draw a single stroke of art," Shido Makoto said.

"The only thing you can do is stand here shouting about dreams and make other people pay the bill for them."

Utaha froze as she listened.

Something in her head clicked into place.

She thought back over the past two months, to how Tomoya had come to her again and again, every time spinning it into something wonderful.

Creating something together. Changing the industry. Never forgetting why you started.

She'd always assumed he truly loved it and was merely clumsy about showing it.

Now she understood.

From start to finish, creation had never been what he cared about.

What he cared about was the Kasumi Utako brand.

He wanted to freeload off her talent, use her fame for free, and pocket the profits himself.

All that talk of original intentions and dreams was just a tool for guilt-tripping her.

She'd been fooled by a freeloader for two months, and she'd nearly gone soft and said yes.

Utaha's face went pale, then red.

Tomoya was still struggling.

He glanced around. The handful of bystanders who'd been on his side earlier now looked at him differently.

The older woman who'd been muttering was now frowning at him.

Panic rose in Tomoya, but he refused to admit defeat to the bitter end.

He stuck out his neck and shouted once more:

"I'm the producer! I have the final say on this project! I have the right of final interpretation!"

…