Parallel World Light Novelist

The number of anime series competing for airtime in the upcoming spring season was a staggering twenty percent higher than the same period last year.

This surge in volume gave television networks the leverage to hike up their broadcast fees for both dramas and animation across the board.

In this industry, prestige is a currency.

If a project has a built in foundation, an adaptation of a blockbuster game, a top-tier light novel, or a legendary manga, and the studio is clearly pouring a massive budget into the production, the dynamic shifts.

For those high-profile works, major networks will not only waive the broadcast fee but will actively compete for the rights to air the series. These hits bring in viewers, which in turn drives up the network’s own advertising revenue.

However, unknown projects from small studios are viewed as "space fillers." They are essentially paying the network for the privilege of exposure, using the time slot as a glorified advertisement to sell merchandise and Blu-rays later.

To the executives at the major networks, a title like Puella Magi Madoka Magica sounded entirely generic and lacked any inherent brand value.

Combined with a production budget of 300 million, which was perfectly average for a seasonal show, the project was immediately categorized as the latter: a small-scale production looking to hitch a ride on the network’s traffic.

"If I were to officially reveal my identity as the author Shiori Takahashi, would the networks be willing to offer a discount on the broadcast fees?" Haruto asked, his head beginning to ache as Director Takeda explained the price hikes.

The threshold for a first-tier network was already high, and the rumored twenty to thirty percent increase meant his funding gap was widening by the second.

"It would not help," Takeda Yasuo replied after a brief pause, shaking his head.

"The executives at the big networks only care about established intellectual property. They look for stories from the three major light novel magazines, Kiyozawa, Hoshizora, and Seisawa, or th titan mangas. They might also perk up for a game adaptation if the title has moved over four million units globally. Those are the only projects that get preferential pricing or spark a bidding war."

"An original anime with no existing fan base? The Big Four network won’t even entertain the idea of a discount, regardless of who the screenwriter is."

While Haruto had won the Ascent of New Gods competition and his previous work Anohana had made waves in the industry, Madoka Magica was an original project with zero established momentum.

The networks weren’t about to cut into their own profit margins for a gamble.

"I see," Haruto nodded, absorbing the cold reality. "So, based on the current market, how much do I need to prepare to secure a slot on a top-tier network?"

"Well, a prime-time slot is out of the question," Takeda said bluntly. "The Big Four reserve those for low-risk, high-reward blockbusters that won’t damage the station’s reputation. They won’t sell those to us at any price."

"For a decent late-evening slot, say, between 10:00 PM and midnight, you are looking at a fee of around forty million yen. You could get a ’deep-night’ slot at 1:00 or 2:00 AM for twenty million, but those are terrible. Japan has plenty of night owls, but very few people are crazy enough to stay up until dawn just to watch an unproven animation."

"So I need at least forty million yen just to get a seat at the table."

"Exactly."

Truly expensive, Haruto thought with a heavy sigh.

Yet, he knew this was essentially an investment in marketing. A broadcast on a high-traffic network was a golden opportunity.

If the quality was there, the returns would dwarf the initial cost. If the prices weren’t justified by the results, the networks wouldn’t be able to charge them in the first place.

After finishing his meeting with the director, Haruto walked straight to Yukino’s office to fill her in.

Yukino looked visibly drained.

She had spent the last several weeks exhausting her network in Tokyo, even calling in favors from her father’s contacts at Sugar Man Pictures to smooth the way for the premiere. Having money was one thing; having the right channels to spend it effectively was what determined who would dominate the summer market.

As Haruto explained the situation, Yukino blinked, a spark of an idea crossing her face.

"If we are short on cash... I know someone who might be willing to lend us the difference."

"Who?" Haruto asked, his interest piqued.

"Reina," Yukino said with a small smirk. "She might not be making your kind of money yet, but between the standalone volumes of her last few series, she’s moved millions of copies. She might not have hundreds of millons sitting in her drawer, but she certainly has enough to cover our shortfall."

"We are talking about several million yen. That is a massive favor..." Haruto hesitated. He and Reina were close, but their friendship had always been professional and academic. Injecting millions of yen into the relationship felt like a recipe for awkwardness.

"Are you just being shy?" Yukino asked.

"It is not that. It is just... she is a friend. I wouldn’t mind asking for a few hundred yen for lunch, but asking for millions feels... wrong," Haruto said, shaking his head.

"I suppose you have a point. Tell you what, I will go with you tomorrow. You might not have the leverage on your own, but if I am there, it should carry more weight," Yukino teased.

"?" Haruto gave her a look of utter confusion.

"Look, I do not know where your absolute confidence in this project comes from, but in all the time I have known you, you have never failed when you set your mind to something. If Reina can’t do it, I will swallow my pride and go back to my father to get the money out of him," she laughed.

For Yukino, that was the backup plan. She was an adult now and wanted to solve her own problems without running back to her family.

The very next day, they met with Reina and laid out the predicament.

"Sure, I can do that," Reina said. She had barely thought about it for a minute before giving her consent.

Haruto was genuinely stunned. Did he really have that much credit with her? "I mean, I am asking for millions here..."

"I have enough in liquid savings," Reina said, looking directly at him. "However, I think a simple loan is too complicated. Why don’t I follow Yukino’s lead? I will invest the capital into the company in exchange for equity."

"Equity?" Haruto’s expression stiffened. "Why are you suddenly interested in our little studio?"

"It is not the studio I am interested in. It is you," Reina replied calmly. "I do not know what makes this new story of yours so special, but knowing you, you wouldn’t bet your entire life savings and come to me for a loan if it wasn’t a masterpiece. I suspect the returns on this production will be significant once it airs. Besides, the money is just sitting in the bank losing value. I might as well make it my first official investment with my earnings."

"I am willing to bet on you," she added softly.

She spoke with a steady voice, but the faint crimson tint on her ears suggested her internal state was anything but calm. Her true motivations were likely much more personal than a business venture. Haruto, however, was oblivious to her habit of turning red when she was being less than honest. Yukino, however, caught the detail and looked at her with a thoughtful expression.

Haruto, ever the pragmatist, assumed she was actually talking business. He weighed the pros and cons of the offer.

"The total production budget for Madoka Magica is 300 million, plus the forty million for the broadcast fee," Haruto calculated. "I cannot accept a full investment for equity; the valuation would be skewed. However, I can offer you a 9% stake in the company for 30 million yen. As for the remaining amount, I will take it as a loan and pay you back with 15% interest once the show starts generating profit. Does that work for you?"

Under this arrangement, Haruto would retain 73% of the company, while Yukino held 18% and Reina would each hold 9%.

Crucially, Haruto would retain one hundred percent of the original copyrights. Any future sequels, merchandise, or spin-offs would belong to him. The two women would only share in the direct profits from the animation’s sales and distribution. It was a generous enough concession for Haruto to make in exchange for their support.

A 9% share of the direct profits was his way of repaying Reina for the blind trust she had shown him.

"That works," Reina agreed without further debate, a small smile appearing on her face.

Haruto let out a long, relieved breath.

Among everyone he knew, Reina was the only one capable of providing that kind of capital on short notice. Borrowing from a bank would have required collateral that a startup studio simply didn’t have. He wasn’t about to put up his future, unmade series as a lien. At this early stage of his career, he could stomach this level of revenue sharing, though he knew he wouldn’t be this flexible in the future.

Once the details were finalized, the three of them went to a local restaurant to celebrate. They shared some drinks and the atmosphere was uncharacteristically warm.

As they were leaving, Yukino pulled Reina aside, giving her a knowing look.

"You agreed to that remarkably fast. For someone who usually plans every move three steps ahead, investing millions without even reading the script is very unlike you. You just wanted to help him out without hurting his pride, didn’t you? You called it an ’investment’ just so he wouldn’t feel the weight of a personal favor..."

Reina’s expression froze for a heartbeat. She looked away, silent for a long moment before answering.

"You are overthinking it. But since you mentioned it, I realized I am a shareholder now. I will stop by the studio tomorrow to see what kind of masterpiece Haruto has actually written."

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