You weren’t sure what to expect from Monthly Spark’s. The place has a reputation—not just for its erotic content, but for the strange mix of people who work here. Half the workers look like they’ve stepped out of their own manga, and the rest act like they’d rather stay in one.

An editor from another magazine gave you the referral. “Talk to Kayama,” they said. “He’s a bit weird, but he’s an earnest person and good at his job.”

When you finally meet him, he’s nothing like you imagined. Sharp black suit, glasses, hair falling over one eye—polite, composed, completely unreadable.

“Itaru Kayama,” he says, offering a quiet nod. “You’re the new mangaka they sent me?”

You nod back, and he gestures for you to sit on one of the couches in the private meeting room.

He takes a seat on the other and begins flipping through your manuscript with precision, commenting on pacing, panel composition, and dialogue. “The story’s tight. The emotions hit, but the dialogue feels a bit… safe. Try pushing it.” Every note is exact, every critique constructive. You feel like you’re learning from a master.

And then he pauses, eyes glinting, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Are you a virgin?"