Otaku Translation: Absolute Number One C77

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Chapter 77: Is in for a Rough Ride!

The next morning, arrived at work with dark circles under his eyes. He had spent the entire night wrestling with the question that plagued him, even dreaming about it. A sudden realization struck him—had he become too reliant on his foreknowledge? Had he grown so complacent that he skipped basic market research before deciding on the subject and content of a major production?

This was an amateur’s mistake, yet he hadn’t noticed until now, blindly brainstorming ideas in his head. Thankfully, his conversation with Futazeno Seiko had shed light on the preferences of modern high school girls. Without it, he might have remained oblivious.

Recognizing his error, Chihara quickly adjusted his mindset. Determined to approach the project with renewed diligence, he resolved not to let his “precognitive bias” lead him astray again. At the morning meeting, his first order of business was to ask Murakami Iori to hire a firm for detailed market research. The survey would cover diverse demographics, from housewives to office workers. Cost was no object; they needed a large, anonymous sample size to ensure the data’s reliability.

This should’ve been done earlier, but during the production of , funds were tight. Better late than never.

Murakami readily agreed—it was part of her job, after all. With ample resources now available, switching from rough to meticulous surveys posed no issue. Meanwhile, Chihara didn’t oversee today’s footage collection. After checking in with the auxiliary creative team, he retreated to his office to meditate and clear his mind.

He had almost defaulted to adapting Boys Over Flowers (Meteor Garden’s original version), but now he realized his imagined audience might not exist. Could he really count on such numbers? Caution was essential.

Yes, he had a mental library of hit dramas, and success seemed within reach. But honestly, it wasn’t as easy as it appeared. His prior knowledge gave him a strong foundation, but every step still required care and precision. Producing Tales of the Unusual demanded vigilance; this new project warranted even more.

This was his first attempt at a big-budget production—a pivotal moment in his career. Failure here could be catastrophic. The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he became. Had Tales of the Unusual’s success lulled him into a false sense of security? Was he being reckless, abandoning the meticulousness that once guided him? Did he subconsciously choose Boys Over Flowers simply because it seemed easier to adapt?

Was Boys Over Flowers truly the best option?

For over an hour, Chihara conducted a sober self-reflection. He even wrote a note—“”—and taped it to the banner above his desk that read “.” It served as a daily reminder: Stay calm. Victory is far from assured. Arrogance and rashness have no place on the path to success. Don’t assume your previous win or future knowledge guarantees continued triumph.

Shedding his impatience, Chihara felt rejuvenated. He sat at his desk, ready to dive into work, only to notice today’s newspaper left by Konoe Hitomi. Still holding the title of his “personal assistant,” she owed her position to Murakami Iori, who ensured her inclusion despite being a newcomer in a potentially hostile environment.

Flipping through the pages, Chihara found the entertainment section dominated by spring programming previews. Among them was a promotional article for , likely the result of Murakami’s collaboration with the network’s operations department. Another section summarized winter dramas, praising their conclusions—a celebratory farewell.

Many shows received accolades, including Tales of the Unusual, which aired its final episode the previous night. According to the rankings, the series achieved an average time-slot rating of 20.22%, peaking at 25.99%. However, its overall seasonal average stood at 11.86%—low due to its disastrous start, with single-digit ratings in the early episodes dragging down the mean.

Though unable to break into sixth place, settling instead at seventh, the show’s performance was commendable given the stiff competition. Yet Chihara felt no emotional response. This was history. Past achievements were just that—past. They offered no guarantee of future success.

It no longer mattered.

He tossed the paper aside, skipping even his habitual skim of the financial section. Instead, he immersed himself in selecting potential projects for the big production. As requested, the survey firm delivered feedback swiftly, beginning with a report targeting young women aged 16–26.

Chihara pored over the findings, analyzing carefully crafted questions and responses. His conclusion? wasn’t as popular as he’d assumed, though its trajectory looked promising. In three or four years, it might gain widespread attention—perhaps coinciding with the second wave of idol culture.

Whether this correlation was causal or coincidental remained unclear. Recalling Boys Over Flowers’ serialization timeline (1992–2003), he couldn’t pinpoint when it elevated shoujo manga to mainstream status. Filming it now risked either leading a trend or being ignored entirely. Clearly, he’d been overly optimistic.

Still, he didn’t dismiss the project outright. It remained a viable option, but alternatives deserved consideration.

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For an entire week, Chihara focused solely on analyzing the market research reports, occasionally checking in on Human Observation’s editing progress. One by one, he eliminated candidates, agonizing over each decision. Finally, only one drama remained: .

Adapted from a trilogy—, , and —the TV adaptation distilled the novels’ essence without input from the original author. Despite lacking a built-in readership, Chihara deemed it suitable. Set against the backdrop of Japan’s post-bubble economic collapse, the story resonated deeply with contemporary audiences. Its themes of grassroots resilience appealed broadly, rivaling Boys Over Flowers’ appeal.

Moreover, the series excelled as a workplace drama. The novelist, a former banker driven to depression by workplace stress, transitioned to writing finance-related guides before turning to fiction. His expertise lent authenticity to the narrative, rich in banking and details. Logical and compelling, the plot naturally intrigued viewers.

Crucially, the report highlighted public curiosity about elite institutions like major banks, which hired exclusively from prestigious universities. With few similar works on the market, Hanzawa Naoki filled a significant gap.

In Chihara’s original world, the series achieved remarkable success: a time-slot average of 42.29%, peaking at 46.77%. Critical acclaim followed, earning numerous awards. Its merits were undeniable.

Yet challenges loomed. Unlike Boys Over Flowers, this project required more seasoned actors. Securing someone like alone would be a daunting task—certainly more difficult than assembling a cast comparable to the five leads of Boys Over Flowers.

After a grueling week, Chihara leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face vigorously. This choice could shape his career—and others’. Committing to such a risky endeavor weighed heavily on him. Yet creators faced uncertainty daily. Even a semi-plagiarist remaker like him couldn’t escape the pressure. Could he successfully adapt this challenging work, replicating its acclaim?

Unlike Tales of the Unusual, where a poorly executed episode could slide, this was a heroic-level challenge.

After massaging his temples, Chihara calmed himself. This was the best option available. Worrying wouldn’t help.

He decided to proceed. Shooting Hanzawa Naoki would be difficult, but if successful, the rewards would be immense. Greater risks yielded greater returns. He gambled.

After a week of anxiety and another of deliberation, he committed fully, shedding hesitation. Immediately, he plunged into scriptwriting, crafting both a literary version and a scene-by-scene storyboard draft. Once again, he entered isolation mode.

Meanwhile, Murakami kept the bloated production team running like clockwork. Daytime shoots captured raw footage; nighttime sessions filmed studio segments, hosting, guest appearances, and Wipe performances. With ample manpower and budget, coupled with Chihara’s precise instructions, execution was seamless. Progress soared—they completed the first episode within a week and made significant headway on the second.

Soon, the began. Five major networks plus launched their programs. While Kanto United TV stumbled out of the gate, the other five fought fiercely.

Amid the chaos, Friday at 9 PM arrived. Tales of the Unusual and Human Observation premiered simultaneously. Chihara paid little heed. His focus was elsewhere—he wanted to perfect Hanzawa Naoki.

As far as he was concerned, Tales of the Unusual Season Two was doomed.

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