"Ah...well...I just feel that Mr. Morokuchi is not quite what I imagined a writer to be like." Conan answered truthfully.
"Different? Why?" Xiaolan was puzzled after hearing Conan's words: "I think Mr. Zhukou is no different."
"But this teacher's works always pay attention to the details in the mystery stories. I thought he was an anxious and somewhat neurotic person."
Conan's evaluation is not without reason. In fact, when writing a book, the writer will unconsciously incorporate some characteristics of his inner world.
To peek at books and people, this is also the reason why many writers don’t like people around them to know about their works.
Because I always feel that others have entered my inner world. It’s okay if it’s a stranger, but it’s not okay if it’s an acquaintance.
But just as Conan was puzzled, Morokuchi Yoshiki, who was reading a magazine, suddenly became gloomy: "Anabuki-kun, do you have a tape measure with you?"
"Yes, I always carry a tape measure with me." Editor Anabuki took out a dark green tape measure from the inside of his suit jacket and handed it to Morokuchi Yoshiki.
After taking the tape measure, Zhukou Yiqi started measuring directly on the magazine.
"I saw it right, my name on the magazine is one millimeter smaller than the other writers' names, right?!"
Morokuchi Yoshiki, who had seemed calm and composed before, seemed like a completely different person at this moment, his voice becoming sharper: "Are you deliberately teasing me?!"
"No, that's not the case, Mr. Morokuchi." Anabuki explained in a panic, "It's just that the text is more convenient for typesetting..."
"Then why don't the names of other writers be reduced in size as well!!" Zhukou Yiqi raised his claws and slammed them directly into the man's face: "You useless guy!!"
"I'm so sorry!" After being hit in the face with a magazine, the Anabuki editor quickly bowed and apologized: "I won't let anything like this happen again..."
"Of course!" Zhukou Yigui snorted coldly.
Seeing this awkward scene, Conan's previous doubts were all resolved.
It turns out that Zhukou Yigui is not neurotic, but his neurosis is manifested in his handwriting.
"Really, I wish you were as responsible as the editor Akibaba you contacted me about before."
Zhukou Yigui said dissatisfiedly: "As long as it is my request, he can do it. Look at you..."
"Haha... sounds like a very good editor." Seeing that the atmosphere was a bit awkward, Kogoro Mouri quickly changed the subject.
"Yes, from collecting archival photos to investigating and searching for professional knowledge related to criminal methods, he really spared no expense for my work."
Speaking of this, Zhukou Yiqi sighed with a look of loss: "He even sacrificed his life for it."
Everyone present was shocked when these words were spoken. They didn't expect that the editor would die of shock.
"Has he passed away?" Upon hearing that someone had passed away, Maori Kogoro couldn't help but ask the reason: "Why?"
"Around the beginning of this spring, he was found dead in his home. The doors and windows were locked." Zhukou Yigui said with a look of regret, "He died in a secret room."
"Eh? Died in a secret room?" Maori Kogoro was shocked when he heard this: "Could it be suicide?"
"Of course this is suicide. This isn't the kind of suspense mystery novel I write."
Morokuchi Masuki revealed a hint of regret as he spoke. "To be honest, I originally planned to write a mystery novel based on his death, but Anabuki stopped me."
"Of course!" Miss Anabuki said grimly, "The news of Akibashi's sudden suicide has spread throughout the publishing industry.
If such a novel is published at this time, the gossip about him will be used as a topic for hype.
That’s why I stopped you!”
"Rumors are just rumors, not facts."
Morokuchi Masaki gave a rather wicked smile. "Furthermore, if the story of Editor Akiba's deeds were the main theme, don't you think it would sell better?"
"Well..." Miss Anabuki's face turned ugly after what the other party said, but it was indeed a fact, so she could only remain silent and turn her head to look away.
“Click…”
The dull thud of a pencil hitting a notebook broke the awkward moment. Dejima repeatedly clicked on his mechanical pencil and said in annoyance, "Oh no! I'm out of refills!"
"Nothing, I'll just lend you mine."
Not wanting to make things awkward, Morokuchi Yoshiki stood up and walked to his pencil case, took out a sharpened pencil, and handed it to Izushima. "By the way, what I like to use most is the old-fashioned pencil."
"Thank you. I'll be welcome then." Dejima took the pencil and said with a smile.
"Anyway, let's just finalize the process for tomorrow's talks. The formal talks will begin early tomorrow morning."
The photographer from Tarumizu removed a rubber band from his wrist, wrapped two loops around three batteries, and tossed them aside. "It doesn't matter what we talk about now. It would be a waste to take pictures, so I won't take any pictures for now."
The awkward process was successfully diverted by the writers Dejima and Tarumi. In order to prevent the atmosphere from becoming more awkward, Kogoro Mori took the opportunity to discuss the subsequent talks with everyone.
After that, the group continued the conversation while eating, which lasted for almost two hours.
My dear, there is more to this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. It will be even more exciting later!
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