"My brain activity level is ten times that of an average person. If you want to reach my level, you'd need to double the number of folds in your cerebral cortex,"
Kyousuke said offhandedly, flashing a confident smile that left the three people beside him stunned.
"Really?" the two editors asked in unison, eyes gleaming.
This was the kind of perfect material they could spin into a sensational promo.
Typical. Something that could shake the entire world was, in their minds, nothing but a sales gimmick.
"Of course not," Kyousuke shrugged. "If my body really supplied that much energy, I'd have burned out ages ago."
"Even if not ten times... three times, maybe? That sounds more believable and marketable,"
Shimomura Tetsuya immediately suggested, eager to turn Kyousuke's joke into a fact they could use.
After all, their new 'Genius High School Detective' manga was about to hit the shelves — a juicy hook right now could be great publicity.
"My bos—brother's IQ is over 170," Kisaki adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his voice brimming with quiet pride.
"170?! Do you have an official score? Which institution tested him?" Shimomura leaned forward, excitement barely contained.
Nothing drew readers to a mystery novel or detective manga more than a genius author. If readers couldn't solve the mystery, they'd admire the writer's brilliance.
And if they could figure it out, they'd feel like geniuses themselves.
Either way, buzz and sales would soar.
"He was never officially tested," Kisaki explained, "but in the year my brother competed in the Japan Math Olympiad, the silver medalist was a Mensa member with an IQ of 170. My brother crushed him and took gold by a landslide."
Kisaki's voice rose with excitement, clearly recalling every detail of that unforgettable day.
"Eh, but without an official test, that's not very convincing..." Shimomura sounded disappointed.
"You don't get it," Kisaki snapped. "With your IQ, of course you wouldn't. Sure, one competition alone can't measure intelligence — but the keyword here is 'overwhelming.' Overwhelming, as in making every opponent despair!"
Kisaki stood up, waving his arms passionately.
"Alright, alright, Kisaki, save it for when I'm not here, will you?" Kyousuke waved dismissively, looking tired.
"Haha, don't ruin the fun, Hojou! Kisaki, keep going!" Osaka laughed, sitting down and pushing down Kyousuke's arm.
Kisaki took a sip of tea, clearing his throat, and continued, "The exam papers were handed out, and not five minutes later, my brother turned his in."
"I hadn't even finished the first question. The whole room froze. Everyone stopped, ignoring the clock — completely stunned."
"Didn't anyone think Hojou gave up?" Akamatsu Yuki asked, curious.
"Impossible. This was the finals, not some qualifier!" Osaka scoffed.
He hadn't participated himself but had heard plenty from seniors at Higashi High.
"Exactly. The silver medalist that year, Nakatani Shou, would've scored even higher if my brother hadn't shattered his spirit so badly." Kisaki grinned.
He knew better than anyone, he barely scraped by with an honorable mention thanks to that overwhelming pressure.
"So what was Hojou-san's score?" Shimomura asked, eyes gleaming.
Kyousuke gave him a sideways look.
This editor kept flipping between calling him 'Hojou-san' and just plain 'Hojou,' clearly adjusting his tone to suit the moment.
Kisaki shot Shimomura a sharp glance as if to say Are you stupid?
"Of course he got a perfect score. What else could it have been?" He scoffed. "That's what overwhelming dominance means — finishing in a fraction of your time, getting a score you could never reach in a lifetime. That is despair."
"Alright, alright, Kisaki, enough ancient history already," Kyousuke waved it off.
"True. Once my brother sweeps every domestic Olympiad gold medal this year and then grabs the international gold, he can do a full round of interviews. No rush."
Kisaki nodded as casually as if tying his shoes — as if success was guaranteed for anyone with working limbs.
"Damn you, Hojou-kun," Osaka clicked his tongue and gave a slow clap.
"Hojou-san, ever thought about releasing study guides? We'd only need your authorization," Akamatsu suggested.
Their publisher didn't usually do educational materials, but an exception here would be worth it. The president would probably approve.
"Or how about tweaking the manga's premise — from 'soccer genius' to 'math and kendo prodigy'? Honestly, kicking soccer balls to knock down villains feels a bit lame."
"A wooden sword is more believable, and we could toss in some amnesia plots for good measure — two birds, one stone," Shimomura muttered, his mind spinning with manga ideas.
"Why not make him a vigilante detective? Solve the crime, find the culprit, and then bam — off with their heads? A bloody rampage to wipe out the whole Black Organization?"
Kyousuke joked without missing a beat.
"Yes, yes! Perfect! A dark hero to vent society's frustrations, in tune with the anti-abolition crowd. Readers love lawful detectives, but the fans of dark justice? Even more loyal." Shimomura nodded eagerly.
"Mid-series, he forms a detective squad. Later, add a team of beautiful thief girls — start team battles. Then, have them pressure the government to change laws based on the criminals' sins. How's that for a plot twist?"
"Eh... the thief girls are fine, but changing laws directly feels off. Detective stories hint at flaws in the system, sure, but forcing law reforms might upset readers," Shimomura rubbed his chin, thinking.
"Exactly. Plus, this is a shounen manga, remember? No need to go full grimdark,"
Kyousuke sighed.
"Hahahaha, great idea! I'm stealing it. The protagonist will be Hojou Ryou-suke — a math genius who suffers endless tragedy, loses faith in the world, and one day meets a gathering of the world's most beautiful girls."
"Love and despair. Salvation and redemption. The next Bookstore Awards are mine!"
Osaka laughed, joining in.
"I'm writing this down — looks like I'll be visiting your place more often," Akamatsu pulled out his notebook.
"No, no, no! On second thought, this kind of story isn't for an old guy like me to write. Better leave it to Hojou — the girls will like that more," Osaka panicked.
The 'visiting your place' clearly meant terrifying deadline chases, not drinks or clubbing.
"Hahaha!" Everyone burst into laughter at the poor writer's plight.
The meeting room filled with warm, easygoing energy.
They ended up chatting for over an hour, mostly about the upcoming Bookstore Awards.
Like Kisaki had said, even fellow award-winner Osaka was sure the grand prize would go to Kyousuke.
They even let slip the dinner party date set by the Mystery Writers' Association chairman, Konno.
"Dinner party?" Hojou asked, puzzled.
"You idiot! Can't you care about your own stuff for once? The dinner to convince those two social-issue judges, duh!"
No need to hide it here — everyone in the room had a stake in Kyousuke's success.
"We haven't started yet? But didn't Kisaki say everything was almost settled?" Akamatsu asked in surprise.
This matter was important to him as well; if extra funding was needed, he could even request it from the company.
"The banquet is definitely happening. Getting those two on our side is nothing for my brother—that's why I said it's almost done," Kisaki replied matter-of-factly.
"True." The other three, excluding Hojou Kyousuke, nodded in agreement.
"Thanks for having so much faith in me," Kyousuke said with a wry smile.
'Knock knock—'
There was a knock at the door. Akamatsu responded, and a woman dressed like a secretary opened it.
"Akamatsu-san, the reception is about to start. Shall we head out?"
After speaking, she gave the rest of the group a polite nod.
"Alright, let's go." Hojou Kyousuke stood and fastened the buttons of his coat.
"Mhm."
Their ride was a company car from Eishuu Publishing—a silver Toyota Alphard.
On the way there, Hojou Kyousuke took a moment to appreciate the ride before casually suggesting, "Kisaki, should our company get a few of these too?"
"Hojou, you opened a company now?" Osaka teased. "This car costs over four million yen. No need to splurge on something like this for a new business."
"Considering what my brother actually needs, I'd say he should just get a full camper van instead," Kisaki ignored Osaka's remark, knowing exactly what his brother was hinting at.
"Cut it out—you think I can drive something like that around Tokyo?" Kyousuke shot back immediately.
"Then I recommend a minibus!"
"Oh, I agree! Hojou-san would definitely need something like that," the two editors chimed in with grins.
They'd both visited his 'Ruyi Dorm' before—they knew the horror that lurked there.
"What are you guys talking about?" Osaka asked, suspicious but not entirely clueless that this wasn't about some normal company venture.
"Just visit Hojou-san's place once. You'll understand," Shimomura Tetsuya said with a mysterious smile.
"This guy still owes me a meal, by the way. After all this waiting, I say it's gotta be two meals now!"
Laughing and chatting along the way, the group soon arrived at the Meiji Memorial Hall in Moto-Akasaka, Minato Ward.
This building had gone through four transformations in its lifetime. Originally, it served as the temporary Akasaka Palace dining hall for Emperor Meiji.
Later, it was gifted to Japan's first Prime Minister, turned into a constitutional museum, and finally became the wedding venue known today as the Meiji Memorial Hall.
In the parking lot, Kyousuke glanced around, quickly counting thirty-two cars. He looked a little disappointed.
"No weddings today, huh?"
"They wouldn't hold weddings and an awards ceremony at the same time," Osaka said, stepping out of the car with a big stretch.
Physically, he made for a surprisingly healthy-looking writer.
"But they do have four restaurants here, right?"
And knowing the Japanese mindset, combining a wedding with an event brimming with cultural flair would probably be seen as super lucky.
Not much different from living next door to a famous writer's resting place.
Kyousuke shared this thought with Osaka, who nodded seriously after a moment of consideration—a writer's pride shining through.
"You've got a point."
"There are four restaurants suitable for banquets, yes, but only one main hall," Kisaki explained as he caught up to them.
As they spoke, they reached the main building of the Meiji Memorial Hall.
A curved awning stretched out from above the main door, supported by two massive brown wooden pillars.
The entrance itself was a black-framed paper sliding door, and the stairs leading up to it were covered in a rich red carpet.
As expected of the Meiji Shrine's accompanying facility—even the awning was so extravagantly built.
Yes, despite its royal aesthetic, it was actually just a simple rain shelter—which explained why it extended far beyond the building itself.
To the left of the entrance stood three pitch-black Rolls-Royces.
Apparently, they also offered wedding car services. Very thoughtful. Kyousuke nodded in approval.
"Boss, this place also hosts foreign guests. It's not just for weddings," Kisaki Tetta quickly reminded him, as if reading his mind.
"Of course I know that. Why are you bringing it up all of a sudden?"
"..."
They had barely looked around when an event staff member approached.
Kyousuke recognized her immediately—it was Amemiya Miki, the woman who'd hosted his very first autograph session and worked for Kinokuniya Bookstore.
His sharp memory had nothing to do with the fact that this bob-haired woman looked at least 60% as cute as Megumi Kato.
It was simply because his memory was that good. He even remembered the fresh-squeezed orange juice she'd bought him for lunch. It was delicious.
"Hojou-sensei, you're finally here!" Dressed in a black pencil skirt, Miki trotted over, her cheeks pink and voice sweet.
"Sorry if I kept you waiting," Kyousuke replied politely—even though, technically, he wasn't late.
"Ah! No, no! My apologies! I've just been so excited for your arrival all day."
Realizing her words sounded wrong, Amemiya Miki quickly bowed again.
"But... hasn't today only just started?" Osaka cut in, having been completely ignored up to this point.
He'd experienced this vibe the first time Kyousuke dragged him to Ententei for dinner—but this time he was an actual guest. This was too much!
"Oh, Osaka-sensei! Sorry, I didn't notice you there!" Miki bowed again.
"It's fine. Guess I'm just less eye-catching compared to this guy."
"N-not at all! I'm so sorry!" she stammered, apologizing repeatedly as if that alone could fix everything.
"Alright, alright. Stop bullying the poor girl." Kyousuke slung an arm over Osaka's shoulder and nudged him forward.
"Poor girl? She's at least ten years older than you!" Osaka grumbled.
"Five years! I started working right after high school!" Miki protested, chasing after them.
Osaka groaned inwardly.
Great—now he'd become this guy's favor-building tool again.
Entering through the hall's main doors under Miki's guidance, they walked down a long, unmistakably Japanese-style corridor.
The hollow sound beneath the wooden floor and the brown railings on both sides felt straight out of a historical drama.
Even the glass panels were tinted the color of old paper.
Outside the corridor stretched a lush green lawn, set noticeably lower than the hallway itself due to the walkway's elevated structure.
At the edge where the lawn met the dining area, bamboo screens had been set up to ensure privacy for diners. Of course, those seated inside the restaurant could enjoy an unobstructed view of the lawn.
"This way, please," Amemiya Miki said, extending her right hand.
"Tomorrow's award ceremony will be held in the First Dining Hall, but tonight's reception is set in Kinkei. I think you'll really like that place, Hojou-sensei."
Kinkei? Hojou Kyousuke thought. Golden Pheasant? That's a surprisingly modest name.
As they chatted, the group arrived at the place Amemiya had mentioned.
The moment the doors swung open, a warm golden light spilled out.
As soon as Hojou Kyousuke stepped inside, he understood why the hall was called Kinkei.
The walls were covered with paintings of golden pheasants—not simple golden roosters, but brilliantly colored, extravagant golden pheasants in various poses.
The polished floor gleamed like glass, perfectly reflecting the grand crystal chandelier hanging above.
The ceiling boasted intricate reddish-brown latticework beams that added a touch of elegance to the space.
As the group entered, their presence drew the attention of those already inside.
A man in a sharp black suit quickly excused himself from a conversation and strode briskly toward them.
Even from three meters away, Kyousuke could see the man's bright smile and outstretched hand.
Instantly, his own expression shifted from calm to lively, curving into a professional smile as he stepped forward, hand extended.
Beside him, Kisaki leaned in and softly reminded him of the man's identity.
"Welcome, welcome, Hojou-sensei! I've been looking forward to this for quite some time," the man in the black suit said warmly as he gave Kyousuke's hand a firm shake.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Hamamoto-san. I got held up with something," Kyousuke replied, matching the firm handshake.
This wasn't the time for bowing or exchanging business cards.
Hamamoto Shigeru blinked in surprise.
He hadn't expected Hojou Kyousuke to know his name.
Ishida-sensei had warned him this young prodigy was arrogant and aloof—but right here, right now, there wasn't the slightest hint of pride or distance in Kyousuke's manner.
"I didn't expect you to know who I am, Hojou-sensei," Hamamoto admitted with a chuckle.
"How could I not? This entire Bookstore Grand Prize event wouldn't have run so smoothly without your hard work, Hamamoto-san."
"Besides, Amemiya-san here mentioned you several times on the way over, saying how much easier things have been thanks to you," Kyousuke said with an easy, practiced smile, expertly broadening the scope of the conversation.
"Oh, and let me introduce someone else—Osaka-senpai came along too." He grabbed Osaka Go, who was trying to slip away unnoticed.
"Osaka-sensei, it's been a while. You've got to sign something for me later—I voted for you with every single one of my ballots," Hamamoto said with a grin. As a representative, he technically had no influence over who won, so there was no harm in the joke.
"Come on now… You should've voted for Hojou instead," Osaka replied with a playful smile, nudging Kyousuke.
"Hahaha, Osaka-sensei, you do know how to tease," Hamamoto laughed.
"Heh, well… I try to put humor into everything I write, after all," Osaka chuckled.