Chapter 234

Next, she gently placed his hand on her leg wearing black silk stockings, then turned her head to look at Natsume Chikage.

On that face that had always been as indifferent as ice, the corners of her mouth actually revealed a curve rarely seen.

"... You really are becoming more and more interesting."

Natsume Chikage didn't dare to move his arm, nor did he have the heart to feel the subtle touch coming from his leg, just frowning tightly:

"What on earth are you talking about?"

Mido Orihime's smile deepened, carrying a kind of eerie satisfaction as if she had insight into a secret:

"Just the literal meaning."

"I don't understand..."

Natsume Chikage admitted frankly.

Mido Orihime didn't explain, just locked onto him with those deep eyes that seemed to be able to swallow souls, and proposed an abrupt question:

"Answer me. Now, in your eyes, what color is the sky?"

Natsume Chikage felt this young lady's thinking was jumpy and her words were unfathomable.

But under that gaze with extreme oppression, he still answered truthfully:

"Twilight color."

Mido Orihime's eyebrows twitched imperceptibly.

"Then, what do the people on the side of the road look like? How are they different from us?"

"They just look like ordinary people. There's no essential difference from you and me..."

Natsume Chikage answered.

The corners of Mido Orihime's mouth slowly hooked up into a more obvious curve.

"... Interesting."

After spitting out these two words, she didn't speak anymore, even throwing away Natsume Chikage's hand somewhat casually, turning to the car window alone, gazing at the fleeting scene outside the window, which was scarlet in her eyes, and falling into some kind of deep contemplation.

Natsume Chikage couldn't see through her, nor could he see his own situation clearly, so naturally, he wouldn't speak unnecessarily and increase variables.

He also chose silence, casting his gaze outside the window.

The vehicle was speeding smoothly on the highway, with an unknown destination.

Midnight Publishing House, Second Editorial Group meeting room.

The clock hands on the wall had already quietly pointed to five, but no one in the room had any intention of getting up to leave—today was the fixed cross-review day.

The so-called cross-review meant that all editors in the group needed to take turns reviewing the suspense and mystery novel manuscripts recommended by others this week that they thought had potential, evaluate them together, and finally collectively decide which works could obtain signing qualifications.

One person's vision always had limitations, and personal preferences were also hard to avoid.

Editor A favored the precise tricks of honkaku puzzle-solving, Editor B was obsessed with the profound analysis of human nature in social schools, Editor C favored the game of wits in court, and Editor D favored the lone wolf style of hard-boiled detectives.

And the publishing quota for each cycle of the publishing house was fixed, and it was impossible to let personal preferences expand infinitely.

Therefore, if a work wanted to obtain a signing, it must win the recognition of the majority of editors.

Even if an editor highly praised it, if they couldn't convince their colleagues, the manuscript still couldn't pass.

Of course, there were exceptions—high-level personnel such as the editorial group leader or editor-in-chief who possessed the power of "final say" could directly make the decision based on their deep industry qualifications and sharp eyes.

However, the quality of works they could take a fancy to was usually enough to conquer most other editors, so this situation wasn't common.

Editor Takahashi Jun was originally full of confidence.

He firmly believed that as long as his colleagues started reading the manuscript of "The Devotion of Suspect X," it would definitely pass unanimously.

However, from dawn to dusk, watching the off-work time approaching, the other editors in the group were still focused on reviewing other manuscripts piled on the table.

In the center of the conference table, the manuscript of "The Devotion of Suspect X" that he brought with full expectation had never been touched by anyone.

It was as if there was an invisible barrier, making everyone "tacitly" ignore Takahashi Jun and his recommendation.

Fine cold sweat seeped from Takahashi Jun's forehead, and his initial enthusiasm was eroded bit by bit by the constantly growing anxiety and hidden despair.

He endured for a whole day, constantly comforting himself: once everyone finished reading what was in their hands, it would naturally be his turn.

But why, until now, had no one looked at it?

Just at this moment, a cold and cruel fact that he had deliberately forgotten for a long, long time suddenly hit his consciousness—

It seemed that from a long, long time ago, the manuscripts he brought were always like this, ignored by everyone. ===== CHAPTER 235 =====