With his direction now set, Jinguu You let himself relax slightly.
But whether it was Type-Moon, Touhou, or even Love Live, these cult franchises might indeed bring him fame and fortune—but not quickly. Touhou and Type-Moon in particular would take time before they could generate any real income.
His personal account still had some money left after buying the house—an amount that, for someone his age, would seem like a small fortune. But for the kind of goals and plans he had in mind, it was barely a drop in the ocean.
Starting from scratch was difficult—those who do so have no capital. No matter how great one's skill or talent may be, in a world driven by capital, success is incredibly hard to come by.
People starting from nothing typically seek funding, offering shares in exchange for startup capital. As the founder, one may still hold immense influence within the company, but in this world already ruled by capitalists and their established rules, the only thing that matters in the end is ownership—actual equity.
That's why so many talented people, unskilled in navigating capital, end up building empires only for them to become someone else's wedding dress. Countless capitalists, like sharks, swarm in, slowly corroding everything you built until one day you realize—you're nothing more than a figurehead.
Just like how Steve Jobs founded Apple, yet at one point was kicked out of his own company. Even at the time of his death, he was no longer the true owner of Apple. The real vampires were the Wall Street tycoons who controlled the capital.
If Jinguu You wanted to avoid being shackled in the future, he had to maintain actual ownership of any business he built. Of course, eating alone invites enemies—when he feasted, he'd have to let others sip the soup. But all of that hinged on one thing: money. A vast amount of money.
"Type-Moon and Touhou are the future. Right now... I need to earn something first."
He spit out the now flavorless gum and tossed a new piece into his mouth, resuming his thoughts.
"The options are really just manga or novels..."
As he pondered, he began flipping through the memories stored in his mind—idly searching for something useful.
"Hm? Monogatari Series?!"
He paused, then lit up with joy as the name caught his eye. He immediately summoned the full contents of that memory and, at the same time, searched Google for the name "Nisio Isin."
As Nisio Isin's most iconic work, the Monogatari Series might not have reached peak fame in China, but in Japan, the sales were astronomical. Still, even in China, characters like Senjougahara Hitagi and Oshino Shinobu were widely known.
This was a series full of meaningless chatter—so dialogue-heavy that readers often lost track of the main plot. It straddled the line between traditional literature and light novels. Most light novels are written with the intent of being adapted into manga or anime, but Monogatari was not fit for animation at all. Each arc introduced a character or a monster, but with so much banter and exposition, any adaptation would inevitably feel flat.
And yet, somehow, in the hands of a mad genius, it had still been adapted—using a bizarre, unconventional style—and succeeded.
If he wrote this series, given its past popularity and sales figures, Jinguu You would undoubtedly gain a massive fortune and even greater fame. And because it straddled the line between light and traditional novels, it would become a perfect launchpad for future work in either realm.
"But... it's because of that I don't want to give up the money."
He narrowed his eyes greedily and bit his lip.
Publishing the series would require submitting to a magazine or a publishing house. Jinguu You was confident he'd get published, but if he went that route, the profits he could keep would be significantly less.
As an author, copyright protection in Japan would guarantee him stable income, but the majority of the profits would still go to the publisher. And knowing just how explosive this series could be, he wasn't about to give up that kind of money.
"What I really need is my own publishing label or magazine. Ideally something like Fujimi Shobo, with its own light novel imprint... but again, that takes money!"
He ruffled his hair in frustration. His mind was now completely occupied by a single word: money.
It wasn't that he didn't consider asking his cheap, stand-in of a father for support. If he did, he could become Japan's national rich son overnight—like the Japanese version of Wang Sicong. But Jinguu You couldn't afford to contact the man who controlled an entire financial conglomerate. Not yet.
"So... I'll shelve it for now?"
He didn't like it, but Jinguu You understood that, under current conditions, trying to claim more than he could handle would only sabotage him. Fortunately, this world didn't have anyone named Nisio Isin, nor had any of his works ever existed. Monogatari was in his head, and no one could take it from him.
"I'll keep writing, but I need to be strategic about what I write. As for manga..."
He looked at a title floating in his mind, and instantly knew—it was his best choice.
Jinguu You had never been a huge fan of mainstream "workhorse" manga (minkō manga), but he couldn't deny their financial power. For profit and recognition, they were king. And for him, right now, there was no better option.
The title was one everyone knew: Naruto.
If he had been reborn in China, its heavily Japanese aesthetic would have made it unviable. But here, in Japan, there was absolutely no problem.
And like he'd said before—while he might eat the meat, he would still let others have the soup. He didn't have time to wait and build his own manga magazine from the ground up. It was better to draw Naruto and use this highly profitable series to form a good relationship with Shueisha. That alone would be a huge asset for his future ventures.
His eyes fell upon the name that had become synonymous with Japanese manga: Weekly Shonen Jump.
"Which means tomorrow, I need to go out and buy everything I need to start drawing manga. Then I can begin both the manga and the development of Tsukihime!"
He glanced at the clock on his computer.
From tomorrow on, his life would be nonstop.