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... ss.

Keita sat stiffly across from his editor, the same crumpled sketch pages from his romance manga resting in a clear binder between them—unopened, untouched.

Tanaka tapped a pen against the table. He wasn't smiling. Not this time.

"You want a lifeline?"

Keita blinked.

"You're drowning. Your rent's three months overdue. Your kid's what? Five? Six?" Tanaka's eyes narrowed. "You're not twenty anymore, Keita. You don't get to starve for art. You've got mouth ...

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