Ghostwriterr

At 18 years old, Hikaru Sano is a published novelist on the brink of a breakdown. Struggling with deadlines, a writer’s block that feels more like a writer’s mountain, and a growing pile of unpaid bills, Hikaru’s life is spiraling out of control. That is, until he’s forced to hire an assistant—Miyuki Hoshino, a no-nonsense college freshman who dreams of something more than just being another cog in the system.

Miyuki is organized, sarcastic, and the complete opposite of Hikaru. She walks in ready to help him get his life together—if only he’d get his act together long enough for that to happen. Between surviving last-minute rewrites, chaotic deadlines, and an editor who could break a man just by typing in all caps, they find themselves stuck in an unlikely partnership.

As the two spend late nights working together, an undeniable connection begins to form. But there’s a problem: both Hikaru and Miyuki are too shy, too awkward, and way too stubborn to admit their growing feelings. Add in some dark humor, a touch of romance, and a lot of writer’s angst, and you get a comedic ride through the unpredictable world of book deadlines, creativity, and finding love where you least expect it—between the lines.

Between these Lines

There are two kinds of people in the world:

You see, deadlines aren't real until they're actively trying to ruin your life. Like an avalanche, they only matter when they're about to crush you. And right now? I'm standing at the bottom of the mountain, watching it come straight for me.

"How much have you written?" Miyuki asks, arms crossed.

I avoid eye contact. Always a bad sign. "Define 'written.'"

She narrows her eyes. "Define 'alive,' because if you don't have at least one chapter, I'm legally declaring you deceased."

I sigh and dramatically spin my laptop around. On the screen is my latest masterpiece:

Miyuki doesn't speak. She just stares. Then she calmly pulls out her phone.

I groan, flopping onto my desk. "Miyuki, you have to understand. Creativity is a delicate process. You can't just force it."

"You also can't force me to sit here and watch you procrastinate again," she shoots back.

At this point, I've realized Hikaru operates on a self-made crisis system. He doesn't write because he wants to. He writes because he has to. The problem is, we haven't hit the "absolute desperation" stage yet.

Luckily, I know exactly how to speed up the process.

I pull up my email and start typing.

Subject: Hikaru's Progress Update!

I hover my finger over the send button. Hikaru's eyes widen in horror.

A tense silence fills the room. This is it. The ultimate game of chicken. Who will break first?

Hikaru stares at the screen. Then at me. Then back at the screen.

Then—pure panic. "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT—"

He lunges for his laptop and starts furiously typing like his life depends on it. Which, honestly, it kind of does.

I lean back, satisfied. "See? Deadlines are motivation."

So here I am, typing at lightning speed, fueled entirely by fear and spite. Miyuki just sits there, sipping her tea like some evil mastermind watching her plan unfold.

The Deadline Olympics