Originally, Lin Yu thought the first chapter of Inuyasha only had a handful of pages. He figured he'd be done in no time.
Yeah. No.
By the time he finally finished redrawing the first page to a level he could barely accept, he looked up—and saw the sky outside already turning pale with dawn.
"...I pulled an all-nighter without even realizing it."
He yawned and stretched with a groan. His back ached, his shoulders were stiff, and his fingers were starting to cramp. Still, as he looked at the scattered manuscript pages on the desk, he felt a strange sense of pride.
If the editors accepted this, if Inuyasha actually got serialized, then reputation points would start trickling in. And once he had enough, he could upgrade his drawing skills through the system and speed things up big time.
But what Lin Yu was really excited about... was the lottery.
Imagine pulling something like Tessaiga from the Inuyasha universe—an actual mystical artifact in this world? It'd be like hitting the jackpot in real life.
"Alright, enough dreaming. Time to get some rest. If I drop dead like the original guy, that'd be the dumbest twist possible."
With the draft of Chapter 1 finished, and rain still pattering softly outside, Lin Yu decided to call it a night—or rather, a morning. He collapsed onto the floor mat, and within minutes, the room was filled with the soft sound of his breathing.
He didn't wake until the afternoon, stomach growling like a demon beast. If not for hunger, he might've slept till sundown.
He grabbed a cup of instant noodles, slurped it down without ceremony, and stared at the remaining stash.
Seven left.
Better treasure every last one.
Fortunately, the rain had stopped.
That meant he could finally head out to submit his manga... and maybe, just maybe, find a part-time job. Those noodles wouldn't last forever, and his bank balance was already six feet under.
He pulled down the formal suit hanging on the wall—the only somewhat thick piece of clothing left. Not that he wanted to dress up for a part-time job or anything, but this was literally the warmest outfit he owned. Everything else had been sold off by the original Lin Yu just to survive.
He carefully packaged the manga draft in a large envelope with stamps, all stuff the original owner had prepared from past submission attempts. No detail was overlooked—he triple-checked everything before finally stepping out the door.
Thanks to the original's long history of failed submissions, Lin Yu had a decent grasp of how the manga industry worked. Most rookie artists would send their physical drafts to various publishers and pray an editor gave them the time of day. Only established artists with connections could walk in for face-to-face pitches.
So, mailing it was.
He'd also taken the liberty of choosing a new pen name this time—Qing Song.
Not because he wanted to sound noble like a resilient pine tree or anything. It was a pun: Qing Song = 轻松, which meant "relaxed and easygoing." That was the kind of life Lin Yu wanted.
Unfortunately, there wasn't a mailbox nearby. To submit, he'd have to walk to a more developed area—conveniently, that was also the perfect opportunity to job hunt. Even a gig at a convenience store would do.
The clouds still loomed gray after last night's rain, and a chilly breeze swept through the streets. Lin Yu tugged his thin blazer tighter around himself and walked on.
There was a weird duality to everything. Yesterday, he'd been a regular office worker in the 21st century. Today, he was a struggling manga artist in a 1990s Japan that wasn't quite his own.
After a ten-minute walk, the streets started to fill with people and shops. The downtown buzz was muted, though, like everyone was moving in slow motion. The economic crash still cast its long shadow—signs of recession hung in the air like damp laundry.
He stuck to memory, heading for a familiar route—until something in a shop window made him pause.
Yamato Conveyor Belt Sushi.
No, he wasn't hungry. Not that hungry. Lin Yu had neither the money nor the pride to waltz into a sushi bar right now.
What caught his eye was the sign taped to the glass.
HIRING: Part-time Student Staff
¥700/hr + 1 Free Meal
Not exactly glamorous, and in this economic slump, ¥700 was basically pocket change. But for students who didn't have time for full shifts, it was an okay deal.
And for a broke transmigrator running on cup noodles?
It was practically salvation.
Flexible hours. Meal included. Short shifts centered around lunch and dinner rushes. Perfect for someone who needed free time to draw.
After a moment of internal debate, Lin Yu pushed the door open.
He was technically a student... sort of. Close enough, right?
The little bell above the door jingled as he entered.
A girl approached almost immediately. She had long green hair—a bit unusual—and her features were soft and gentle, like the kind of heroine you'd see in a slice-of-life manga.
"Welcome! Just one today?" she asked with a warm smile.
Lin Yu shook his head. "Actually, I'm here about the job."
She didn't skip a beat. "This way, please."
Everything went smoother than expected. Turns out, not many people were lining up for a low-wage gig during a recession. Lin Yu's timing was actually perfect.
By the time the brief interview ended, the manager—a tired-looking middle-aged man—nodded once and handed over a uniform.
"If you're free, start today. Ask Oohara—that girl who greeted you—if you have questions."
The job offer was instant. No tests. No paperwork. Just "you're hired, go change."
Lin Yu didn't argue. A steady income, even if small, was essential for survival. The postbox wasn't going anywhere.
As he stepped out of the changing room in his new uniform, Oohara—the green-haired girl—approached again, wearing that same kind, patient smile.