It’s been a full week. I’ve inhaled more manga than I thought was humanly possible. I’ve spent hours in meetings, reading, and nodding along like I knew what I was doing. But now, after devouring stacks of manga, from romantic shojo love triangles to chaotic shonen punch-fests, I’m... getting it. Kind of.

At my desk, I’ve got a series of sticky notes plastered on my laptop, each one with cryptic scribbles like, "shojo = sparkly romance," "shonen = dudes punching things," and "isekai = stuck in another world, probably after getting hit by a truck." There’s one particularly troubling note that reads, “Omegaverse: Don't ask, just accept.” I refuse to Google that one again.

I’ve got the basics down, but some things still feel surreal. Like, why are there so many terms for relationships in BL manga? Top? Bottom? Verse? These words never came up in my business classes. But here we are—me, suddenly fluent in the weirdly specific vocabulary of Boys’ Love.

Cue the sarcasm: “Oh, I’m so ready for this.”

Asuka walks by my desk, raising an eyebrow at my mess of papers and sticky notes. “How’s it going, Miyu? Absorbing all that manga knowledge yet?”

I give her a deadpan look. “If by absorbing, you mean drowning in BL terminology I never thought I’d need in life, then yes, I’m absolutely thriving.”

She laughs. “Welcome to the world of manga. Now, keep reading.”

I groan inwardly. The sheer amount of manga in this office is overwhelming. There’s something for everyone—cute high school romances, violent action sagas, fantasy worlds full of dragons and swords. But there’s this whole other world that seems to be popular: BL, aka Boys’ Love. Women eat this stuff up like it’s the last dessert on Earth. I’m not sure I get it yet, but... I can’t stop reading either.

My phone buzzes. It’s my mom.

“Hey honey, how’s work in Japan? What exactly are you doing over there?”

“Well, right now, I’m trying to explain why one guy kissing another guy in a manga is apparently a big deal.”

A pause.

“Is this one of those... internet things?”

“Mom. No. It’s... manga.”

“So... like cartoons?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is harder than explaining to her why I never wanted to move back here in the first place. “Sure, Mom. Let’s go with that.”

After that week of intense reading and explaining manga to my very confused mother (yes she is Japanese but she never got into anything anime or manga growing up), I think I’ve finally got the basics down. Now, it’s time to share this newfound wisdom.

“Shojo,” I start mentally, is basically a romance manga. But not just any romance—no, this is romance on steroids. Think starry-eyed schoolgirls falling in love with the aloof, brooding guy who can’t express his feelings. Oh, and sparkles. So. Many. Sparkles.*

Shonen? That’s the guy’s genre. Teenage boys, punching things, screaming dramatic speeches about friendship and loyalty—basically, a soap opera with fists and superpowers.

And then there’s... isekai. This, for some reason, involves a lot of people dying in traffic accidents and waking up in alternate universes where they suddenly become either superpowered or a completely useless side character. Isekai is the dream job of manga characters: no rent, no taxes, just killing monsters and becoming an overnight legend. I’m not sure why people love it, but hey, I’m not judging.

BL? Well, let’s just say it started as a curiosity and turned into an obsession. Why are these stories so compelling? Two guys in love, navigating their feelings, with all the angst of a regular romance but... hotter? I’m not mad at it.

I’ve even started to throw around terms like “uke” (the softer one in the relationship, or so I’ve gathered) and “seme” (the... well, you know). I’m still processing verse (both? can that even work?), but at least I’ve got omegaverse down. Sort of. I think. I’ll admit I’m still not 100% sure on that one, but let’s keep that between us.

Now, after a week of being buried in manga, I’m expected to use this knowledge for the greater good. Or at least to not look like a total idiot at work.

This is the moment of truth. I’m in a pitch meeting with Asuka, an editor, and a manga artist. The artist has a brand new Isekai series, and it’s... something.

“I Woke Up in Another World with Cooking Skills That Made Me the Greatest Chef That Ever Lived.”

I mean, points for creativity.

The editor runs through the details, but everyone turns to me for the marketing pitch. My brain kicks into gear. I’m still processing how we’re seriously discussing a manga about cooking in an alternate universe, but... I’ve got this.

[See next mini episode for meeting details]

I glance at Asuka. She’s... impressed?

“Miyu,” Asuka says slowly, a little smirk creeping up her face, “I love it.”

I shrug, trying to play it cool, but inside, I’m still screaming.

After the meeting, Asuka pulls me aside.

“You really nailed that, Miyu,” she says, a hint of surprise in her voice. “You’ve learned fast.”

“Well,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady, “I’m nothing if not resourceful. And also, apparently, extremely good at binge-reading.”

Asuka laughs. “Honestly, I thought you’d be struggling more, but you’ve adapted better than I expected. It’s like you’ve been working here forever.”

That tiny bit of praise feels... good. Like, maybe I’m actually getting the hang of this. Maybe I’m not as lost as I thought.