1. A Hikikomori's Business Model

I decided not to leave my house again until I became a millionaire.

I know, it's completely illogical, but give me a chance to explain.

Out there, where people roam, there are those who pity me. They know what happened a year ago and speak to me with sympathy. Then, these same people talk to my family about my condition, calling at ungodly hours of the morning.

So, I have only one thing in mind: to do something as quickly as possible—become wealthy by working online to move out as soon as possible.

Paying rent, food, electricity, water, and medicine is expensive, but thankfully, I managed to make a recent payment pretending that I had already finished university.

When I still lived with my parents, they encouraged me to earn a scholarship, so now I don't spend on education. However, a large part of my earnings goes to the extortionists who also roam outside, waiting for the deadline of the next payment to threaten me and take what little I have.

As you can see, I'm making the best possible decision. But I never expected to find myself immersed in the current situation.

As soon as I wake up in the early hours of the morning, I spend the first part of my day on my laptop, receiving documents from an anonymous company. I analyze the data, numbers, and figures from their online customer receipts and invoices, and I had to deliver a result by noon, the deadline. Fortunately, in the afternoons, I could free myself for the moment, but if I wanted to escape this kind of life, I had to act more intelligently.

After finishing with the documents, I made myself a breakfast and lunch that I ate at almost the same time every day. I also opened a bag of croquettes and a can of milk to leave food for my dog in his bowl, then I left it in front of a room with a sign that read "Finn", the name I had given to my dog.

That room was where he always confined himself, living like a recluse with me. He probably slept all day while his owner worked herself to exhaustion, yet I had sworn to put forth my best effort to give him a better life, as he still seemed saddened by last year's hit-and-run accident.

Once I replenish my energy, which for me is just a bowl of rice with chicken stew, I spend the entire day browsing the internet, investing my time in improving my skills as a human resource. I found out that programmers earned well, so whenever I could, I tried to learn some popular programming language; however, I have to admit that I wasn't good at it at all.

I spend hours trying to solve code problems, usually searching for the answer online or consulting forums; and after a few hours, I take a break, telling myself that I've learned something when, in reality, I haven't.

It was then, amidst my daily frustration during my coding practices, that the ring of my phone announced what I had been eagerly awaiting.

I quickly closed any windows on my computer and opened a new page, entering the link to a blog.

fushnaemon.com

This blog, though with a simple design, had around 3000 chapters of a web novel. It belonged to a writer who filled Twitter with threads of fan art from his work amid the fervor of hundreds of haters, consistently drawing the attention of a large audience every day. For some reason, he updated his blog every hour from noon, publishing ten new chapters a day of his web novel, which had already been picked up by various publishers for physical publication.

This renowned author, as you may have guessed, is the famous bestseller "Fush Naemon", the writer of "I'm a Husky LVL 999,999,999,999."

Despite its extravagant title, his writing always captivated me. Even though he extended himself to write around 80 pages a day, I had practiced speed reading solely and exclusively to face the challenge of reading all his chapters on the same day they were published.

It was a liberating sensation amid the uncertainty of my reality. For that hour and a half where my mind wandered, reliving the adventures of the entire story, I could immerse myself in that world of fantasy filled with warrior beasts, dragons, and gods of all kinds, thanks to his talented narrative, as if I myself could exist in that realm.

The popularity had soared to such heights that the novel had amassed a massive fanbase after the author signed a deal with a plush toy distributor, selling them at promotional events for the physical volumes. These plush toys, from what I had gathered online, were being praised in various toy stores for their beautiful design of the protagonist Husky.

However, despite the multitude of people who hung on every chapter or comment the author made in some anonymous internet interview, no one could ever uncover a hint about their true identity.

The writer Fush Naemon, who had captured my heart by soothing my soul with their stories, had left me trapped in a limbo where I couldn't fathom my world without their work. As an obsessive fan, after finishing my daily dose from the blog, I would write a review of each chapter of that day, publishing them all on a blog where I could write some alternate stories about my favorite characters from their novel. And occasionally, I'd even delve into writing fanfiction.

With the money left after paying off debts, I'd buy the physical books directly from the main publisher's website the author worked with. And when there was an online event where the author announced their participation on Twitter, I'd save up as much as possible to buy a ticket before they sold out. Most of these events were through an online platform, but whenever there was a live appearance by Fush Naemon, a handsome guy with short brown hair always dressed in his iconic blue suit would show up. He was the acclaimed Fush Naemon, the love of my life.

.............. ha.

Hahahahahahahahahahaha.

That guy could never be the Fush Naemon I know. Never!

Firstly, the way he spoke, it was evident he didn't use the same words the author himself used in his tweets or writings. He'd never say, "Hey hey hey, thanks for such a warm welcome at this great event!" Instead, it'd be more like, "Thank you all for coming here. I'm Fush Naemon, it's a pleasure."

How do I know? Let's do a quick analysis. Seriously, just give me a moment. Wouldn't it be regrettable for an average fan like me not to notice how in his early story arcs, the author employs a rhythm where he uses nouns in the present infinitive after verbs in the past tense every three paragraphs of every other odd chapter? And no, I'm not just talking about the coincidence in the fourth paragraph of the first book where the secondary character introduces himself similarly to the antagonist in the five hundred sixth paragraph of the third book, which also resembles the words the author typically uses in his personal Twitter. I'm talking about how the author uses the personality of his protagonist Husky when he must introduce himself in new settings, like when I found his personal email registered on different platform pages, giving a similar introduction in each one, varying in words except for the ones, as I mentioned, that are his mainstays everywhere.

Fush Naemon is a particular kind of person, noble and courteous above all, highly intelligent in his writing, always striving to deliver the best for his fans. A pathetic second-rate actor using his name in these shows is an editorial strategy to appease the public's longing!

I'm sure. That guy definitely isn't my Fush Naemon at all.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

For fans like me, such simple mistakes speak volumes about how stupid the publisher thinks Fush Naemon's fans are. Besides, that guy didn't show as much affection for the work as the author did online.

Fortunately, I didn't let these thoughts ruin my enjoyment of his work every day. I simply defended my point through an anonymous Twitter account with all my might. At this point, more people knew me on the internet as a "hater" of the supposed author.

But I never would be. Not to him.

My savior.

***

Finally, I finished reading his latest chapter of the day and wrote its review. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the floor of my room, stretching my arms, letting out a satisfying sigh. Another day, happy to still be alive.

Although, there's something that still keeps me intrigued.

How can I meet Fush Naemon? The real Fush Naemon.

That's all I wanted, to ask for an autograph and maybe go out for a meal with him occasionally. With a fan like me, any author would be delighted.

But I've tried everything.

Twitter, Facebook, Reddit, GitHub, ScribbleHub, Wattpad, Webnovel, Gmail, Hotmail/Outlook, RoyalRoad, ScribbleHub, Snapchat, WhatsApp, Instagram, LinkedIn, Pinterest, TikTok, YouTube, Discord, Twitch, Medium, Blogger, WordPress, Tumblr, WeChat, LINE, Telegram, Viber, Skype, Slack, Quora, Yelp, Google Meet, Zoom, Microsoft Teams, Weibo, VKontakte (VK), Baidu Tieba, Sina Weibo, Clubhouse, Flickr.

Of all the fake accounts scattered across the internet, his only verified account, which he used exclusively, was on Twitter. No matter how many messages I sent, he never replied. Not to my tweets or to my writings inspired by his work. However, he didn't respond to anyone, so I was at peace on that front.

"Ring Ring"

Ah, a notification.

My dear Fush has posted a new tweet. I grabbed my phone, unlocking the screen to open the notification immediately.

"I will participate in an upcoming online event alongside the new author from the publisher, Daisy Norbert. Please stay tuned for further details."

Alongside that, an illustration from the new author, where she cheerfully posed with her character, a poodle, next to the character representing the author online, his characteristic husky dog.

I limited myself to searching for more information about that girl online out of sheer curiosity. And within minutes, I found her personal information.

Whoaaaah... Who would've thought that a girl so talented as to publish in the same publisher as my dear Fush has had a well-managed life filled with luxuries all along? Surely, she's paid the publisher and an illustrator to do all that and win the fictitious affection of the best-selling writer. How lovely, how lovely to live that fantasy.

Maybe I should try it too, haha. When I become a millionaire, perhaps.

"Ring"

Another notification. None other than from the only person I followed. You guessed it, most likely.

This time it read:

"Daisy has been a very good coworker to me. I'd love to meet with her again on another occasion. The illustration looks just like when we went out for dinner, thank you so much!"

.........................................

No. This isn't the same Fush Naemon. Did they give access to that second-rate actor?

No, wait, the grammar... It's clear it's him. But, but, but... Something's off.

"The illustration looks just like when we went out for dinner..."

That line. What did it mean?

A virtual work meeting through a game where they could pretend to be at a café? Or a meeting where the editor brought them food, each in their own home?

.........................................

Or perhaps... had Fush Naemon been on a date?

The true Fush Naemon, whose identity had no records online whatsoever. That very Fush Naemon...

Could anyone have met him in the flesh? The real Fush Naemon?!"

........................................................

Oh

Oooooh

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooh! That's it!

If I become a writer, a professional writer, then I could earn money and meet the author of my favorite novels at the same time!

That's it.

That's it! I'll become a writer!

"Grrrowfh!"

Finn's howl didn't take long after my authentic shout of glory, as if asking me to be quiet. I get it, I'd do the same.

"Come on, calm down. You're scaring your dog. Calm down, Emma, calm down..."

I sat on the edge of my bed and took my laptop in my hands, breathing deeply to calm my anxieties.

........... Alright.

So, how does an author make money? All I know, so far, is the traditional method.

But someone who only writes fanfics like me would never achieve immediate publication. Especially not out of sheer greed!

How did she even manage it then? There's no record of her new novel being previously published as a web novel unlike Fush's. My theory that it was all pay-to-win made more sense the more I thought about it.

Alright. Let's cook up something quick and get into some research.

***

Alright.

Umm... I think it's around three in the morning right now. I barely ate, but I'm okay.

I think I've researched enough.

I delved into thousands of writings across different platforms, searching for patterns of monetization methods and tips on various websites that discussed the topic. Out of curiosity, I researched not only English pages but also Spanish, French, Korean, Chinese, and Japanese ones. The languages with the most stories in the world.

After exhaustive research, I managed to pinpoint something.

"Patreon"

It required a 'Patreon', a website, and a web novel to advertise.

I'd read hundreds of tips on how to reach customers, and I'd memorized the type of reader each author specializes in. On the board I have beneath me on the floor, I've noted in a table the different characteristics of the reader and author, alongside the number of chapters, Patreon subscribers, and publication frequency.

With what I had jotted down below me and what I'd saved in an Excel document, I had enough to create an artificial intelligence, but it wasn't necessary. Anyone could do this with a bit of time.

So, I circled the figure of 1000 dollars. If I wanted this to work, I'd need two hundred members willing to pay five dollars monthly. After that, I'd devise a marketing strategy to advertise the work and try to attract a larger audience. Specifically, someone within the publishing house where Fush works.

I just need that.

I need to create a bestseller.

"Grrrowfh!"

"Finn?"

My pupils stopped dilating in front of the browser screen as I quickly turned to hear my dog growl behind me. It was late, why was he still awake?

I left my room, my legs cramped, and I grasped the doorknob of his door, hesitating whether to open it or not.

I stood still, pondering if I'd be invading the privacy that he and I respectively share in our separate rooms. But if he had been hurt or a rat had come in to scare him, I couldn't afford a significant expense at the vet at the moment, let alone overlook the fact that something might harm his beloved pet.

So, without further ado, I opened the door, rushing to his aid.

"Finn!"

I pushed the door aside, finding the room in darkness. I couldn't hear Finn anywhere, so with hesitation, I flicked the light switch.

"Finn... Where are you? Come out for a moment, are you okay...?"

I started walking around the room, filled with boxes everywhere. Boxes I never placed there in the first place. When I had given that room to my dog, the house had been almost empty after my parents took almost everything, so that was the first strange thing I noticed as I entered.

The second, and what left me frozen, was seeing my dog lying on the floor, holding a golden sword in his mouth as he sliced a piece of tongue from a huge beast poking its snout through a bright portal in the middle of the room.

After the piece of tongue fell to the ground, the beast retreated back through its side of the hole, and I saw my dog reciting words in a language I'd never heard. Moments later, the hovering hole closed on its own, leaving me face to face with it.

Finn dropped the sword to the floor, leaving his mouth wide open in front of me.

...................

"W-Wait, I can explain."

And he speaks. My dog was speaking.

What was all that just a moment ago? That was magic. Magic? That doesn't exist. Not in our world.

Suddenly, the piece of tongue started wriggling, sprouting eight legs and a pair of antennae, attempting to run out through the open door behind me.

However, ignoring my cry of confusion, Finn grabbed the golden sword again, making a swift slash against the slippery tongue, cutting it in half.

"Threat neutralized..." he said, releasing the sword again, immediately turning to look at me, "Ah, I mean, I mean... uh... woof?"

I fell silent for a moment, until I caught something that shattered my soul.

"T-That's... A Nordom?!"

"Do you know about Nordoms? I-I mean... Woof."

I stared directly into my dog's eyes, collapsing to the ground, stunned by the situation.

"... So... you've read my blog?" My dog spoke when it couldn't be hidden any longer.

Yet, I became even more bewildered, my eyes wide.

Looking around, I distanced myself from the mutant tongue cut in half.

"It's... identical. Fourth chapter of the third book... the tongue of a Venom Dragon can retain its consciousness if severed. But I never imagined its mutation would be so... repulsive." I fought the urge to vomit, sensing my dog's gaze turning as pale as mine.

"Wait, did you read the webnovel version? Please tell me it was the webnovel version."

My body went into a severe spasm, trembling as if I had suffered a convulsion.

It couldn't be. Hahaha.

No.

It's a joke. I'm sure of it.

What a cruel joke... isn't it, Fush?

...........................................

Have I gone crazy?

"Emma..."

Don't say it.

I'LL KILL YOU.

Finn, my little dog with yellowish and whitish fur, as small as a puppy still, approached me, wagging his tail with excitement.

"Have you read all of my work? Tell me, tell me! What did you think?"

No. You didn't write it.

"I am..."

You're not.

My favorite work in the world, the one I hold in such high esteem, couldn't have been written by my...

"I am... Fush Naemon."

............................

Within moments, I collapsed onto him, silencing his mouth for once and for all, throwing myself to the ground with him.

That was the first time I spoke face to face with my dog in a year. And if he didn't give up, I would make sure it was the last.