“I want to ask for one exception.”
I looked the editor-in-chief straight in the eye.
“Please publish this book.”
He folded his arms and remained silent.
“It won’t sell.”
“I know.”
“The publishing business isn’t a charity.”
I knew that, too.
A publisher’s job was to produce books that sold.
Not simply books that moved someone’s heart.
Even so…
I couldn’t let it go.
“I’ll take responsibility.”
He let out a quiet sigh.
“Those are the last words an editor should ever say.”
Silence settled between us.
Finally, he placed the manuscript back on the desk.
“Three thousand copies.”
I looked up.
“That’s the entire first printing.”
“There won’t be a second.”
“…Thank you.”
⸻
Its release date was scheduled alongside Yesterday, Transparent, the novel Oracle had chosen as the New Writers Award winner.
Around the office, everyone called it reckless.
The results came within a week.
Yesterday, Transparent
First Printing: 200,000 copies
Immediate reprint.
Number one on the national bestseller list.
Readers flooded social media with praise.
Film adaptation talks began almost immediately.
Everything unfolded exactly as Oracle had predicted.
Meanwhile…
You Only Smile When It Rains disappeared into silence.
Three thousand copies.
No reprints.
No rankings.
Within days, bookstores quietly moved it from the front display to the shelves.
A report arrived from the sales department.
Exactly as projected.
That was all it said.
I never replied.
⸻
Several months later…
I was giving a lecture in a regional city.
On my way home, I stopped by a small independent bookstore.
In a quiet corner…
A high school girl stood holding a book.
She was crying.
The book in her hands was You Only Smile When It Rains.
For a moment, I almost spoke to her.
Then I stopped.
She hugged the novel tightly against her chest…
and silently walked to the register.
⸻
That night, when I returned to the editorial office, the editor-in-chief was drinking coffee.
“How did your trip go?”
“I found one reader.”
He waited.
“She was crying.”
He said nothing.
“It didn’t sell.”
“But somehow…”
“It reached her.”
A faint smile crossed his face.
“I knew an editor who used to say things like that.”
⸻
I looked at the sales reports on my desk.
Yesterday, Transparent
Total Copies Printed: 1.02 million
Reader Satisfaction: 98.7%
Recommendation Rate: 97.9%
Perfect numbers.
Everyone loved it.
No one was disappointed.
The best-selling novel in the country.
Beside it sat the report for You Only Smile When It Rains.
Total Copies Printed: 3,000
No additional printings scheduled.
By every measurable standard…
It had failed.
At that moment, a company-wide email appeared on my screen.
Subject: Revision of the New Writers Award Selection Process
The message was brief.
Beginning next year, the manuscript receiving Oracle’s highest evaluation will automatically be awarded the New Writers Award Grand Prize.
The judging committee will be abolished.
The reason was only one sentence long.
To ensure both fairness and market success.
I closed the email.
Judges were no longer necessary.
Perhaps…
One day, editors wouldn’t be necessary either.
⸻
Outside the window, a giant digital billboard lit up the building across the street.
AI will find the one book that will change your life.
Maybe it would.
A book that never betrayed its readers.
Never failed to meet expectations.
Never disappointed anyone.
Perhaps…
That was the most perfect novel in the world.
Then I remembered the tears of the girl in that bookstore.
Could those tears have been predicted?
And if they could…
Who were stories really for?