I am the Entertainment Tycoon Chapter 1015: The Caretaker’s Lesson

Tsuka District, Sakura City.

11:30 AM, Tuesday, June 1st.

By the end of the morning, the unrelenting torrent of the early rush had finally begun to transition into a steady, rhythmic cruise. Outside the polished windows of Questline Bookstore, the Tsuka District was bathed in the brilliant, high-altitude glare of the midday sun. The towering silhouette of the Sakura Tree Tower on the horizon formed the backdrop to the sleek glass skyscrapers and traditional tiled entryways of the commercial avenue. The sidewalk remained a flowing river of pedestrians—salarymen loosening their ties as lunch hour approached, university students sharing notes, and tourists pausing to snap photos of the modern-meets-traditional architecture. Yet, almost every passerby instinctively slowed their pace when they walked past Questline’s front glass facade, their eyes drawn to the vibrant mosaic of the top-ten manga and light novel displays.

From the inside looking out, the bookstore felt like a harbor separated from the roaring metropolis by just a sheet of pristine glass. The interior atmosphere had mellowed into a warm, comfortable hum, heavily perfumed by the rich, comforting scent of fresh paper, printing ink, and the roasted hazelnut aroma drifting from the staff breakroom’s coffee machine.

"Joan-san, you should take advantage of this quiet time because when we come back from lunch, the store will get crowded again. This time, around lunch, the customers first go have lunch before coming here after eating. That’s why the boss closes for lunch, as even if the store was open between midday and one pm, we wouldn’t receive many customers." The colleague working near Joan said.

"Really?" Joan said with a surprised expression, but after thinking for a while, she realized it made sense.

The physical landscape of the store bore the subtle, honorable battle scars of a successful launch morning. The meticulously stacked towers on the tiered highlight shelves had been noticeably hollowed out, leaving uneven steps where eager hands had swept away copies of the reigning hits.

Joan leaned lightly against her checkout counter, taking advantage of the brief lull in foot traffic to stretch her aching shoulders. Looking across the sunlit aisles, she watched a few lingering customers browse the shelves at a leisurely pace—a contrast to the frantic, breathless sprints of the 7:30 AM crowd. Sunlight streamed through the skylights, illuminating dust motes dancing over rows of classical literature, poetry anthologies, and the sprawling pop-culture sections. Surrounded by this peaceful sanctuary, Joan felt the physical fatigue of her first major release morning melting away, replaced by an enduring sense of calm satisfaction.

It was almost midday when Joan noticed a woman pedaling rapidly toward the bookstore. She parked her bicycle out front before rushing through the doors, breathing heavily from the exertion.

"Whew, I almost didn’t make it!" the woman said with a bright, relieved smile as she stood near the entrance, trying to catch her breath.

Joan watched her with curious eyes. Although she had encountered a diverse mix of customers buying manga and light novels all morning, there was an unmistakable aura about this newcomer. Even though she was middle-aged, her face radiated a profound sense of kindness and tranquility—the kind of look where time only seemed to deepen those gentle qualities. She was dressed comfortably in a long skirt and a casual T-shirt printed with the phrase ’20XX Little Football League.’

Noticing the shirt, Joan assumed the woman was simply running a midday errand to pick up a few Chapters for her children. True to that guess, as soon as the woman caught her breath, she headed straight for the manga aisles.

A few minutes later, the woman bypassed the other counters and lined up directly at Joan’s register to pay for her selections.

"Good morning!" the woman greeted her, her smile instantly proving infectious.

"Good morning, ma’am!" Joan replied, her own polite smile warming up as she began scanning the items. "Picking up some manga for your kids?"

"Yes, they’re for my children," the woman replied, her expression softening into a proud, maternal smile. "I have a few dozen of them—would you believe me?"

Joan froze for a second, completely stunned. Yet, looking closely at the woman’s earnest, happy face, she could tell there wasn’t a hint of exaggeration in her words.

"Don’t look so frightened, dear," the woman said, laughing, a comforting sound that chimed through the air like a pleasant bell. "I’m a caretaker at a nearby orphanage."

"Oh! Please forgive me, ma’am!" Joan quickly apologized, bowing her head slightly in embarrassment.

"There’s absolutely nothing to apologize for, child," the woman reassured her with a gentle smile that instantly melted Joan’s nervousness. "I’m just picking up a fresh batch of manga and light novels for them. They love these stories so much..." She continued to chat warmly, sharing small, lighthearted anecdotes about daily life at the orphanage.

As Joan continued processing the transaction, listening to the caretaker speak so fondly of her charges stirred something deep inside her. It was entirely clear that this woman didn’t just supervise these children; she loved them fiercely as if they were her own flesh and blood. Joan couldn’t help but feel an immense wave of admiration. To possess the capacity to love so many unconditional souls was a level of emotional depth Joan had never personally witnessed before.

The caretaker was chatting so happily that she didn’t realize Joan had just scanned the very last item on the counter. Blushing slightly, she caught herself. "Oh, look at me and my big mouth! I must be driving you crazy, rambling on like an old lady, huh?"

Joan quickly shook her head, her smile turning genuine. "Not at all, ma’am! I really loved hearing your stories. It’s wonderful."

"Ah," the woman murmured, her eyes wrinkling with a warm, affectionate look. "You really are a good child." She looked down at the final volume Joan was holding in her hands. "You know, out of everything I’m buying today, this specific manga is the one the children have been begging for the most. Do you know why?"

"No, I don’t," Joan replied honestly, casting her eyes down to evaluate the cover art.

The front of the book featured a striking, action-packed illustration highlighting three central ninja characters rendered against a vibrant, solid red background. In the immediate foreground on the left, the main protagonist dominated the frame with a wide-eyed, fierce expression, his body lunging forward dynamically in his iconic orange track jacket as his hand reached aggressively toward the viewer. Positioned closely beside him, a young woman with distinctive, pale featureless eyes and short dark hair displayed a look of quiet, resolute focus that contrasted with her usual timid nature, wearing her signature light-colored hooded jacket. Looming ominously on the right side of the composition was a sinister, red-haired boy with dark rings around his eyes and a mysterious symbol etched onto his forehead, peering over his shoulder next to a massive, sand-filled gourd that teased the dangerous battles waiting inside the book.

It was Naruto Volume 9.

"It’s because the children feel like Naruto is just like them," the caretaker explained, her smile turning incredibly bright. "They look at him and realize that if a lonely boy like Naruto can be strong enough to face his adversities with a smile, then so can they."

The profound weight behind those words resonated so deeply within Joan that she became completely lost in thought, barely registering the physical mechanics of processing the cash payment and handing over the receipt.

"I’m off!" the woman called out cheerfully, picking up her heavy paper bags. She paused, looking back at Joan one last time. "Have a wonderful day, dear. Thank you for listening to an old woman’s ramblings without getting annoyed."

"Goodbye, ma’am! Have a wonderful day!" Joan managed to call out just before the caretaker stepped through the exit.

The woman offered one final, characteristic nod of encouragement before disappearing onto the sunny Tsuka District sidewalk. Left alone at her register during the midday lull, Joan looked down at the empty space on the counter, her perspective on the entire comic industry permanently shifted by a single, powerful realization.

Around 12 PM, the soft chime of the store’s intercom signaled the midday pause. In accordance with the district’s traditional business pacing, the manager flipped the hanging sign on the front glass door to ’Closed’ and dimmed the overhead track lighting, giving the staff a well-deserved one-hour lunch break to rest and recharge.

While her coworkers headed straight to the breakroom to heat up their meals, Joan remained stationary behind her register for a long moment, completely untying her dark green apron. The bustling energy that had defined the morning was replaced by a serene, echoing quiet.

Stepping away from the counter, Joan walked over to the front windows and looked out onto the sunlit Tsuka District sidewalk. Her analytical, literary mind was working overtime, entirely occupied by her encounter with the orphanage caretaker. For the past two weeks, she had viewed this bookstore position as a simple, detached sanctuary—a mechanical routine to help her pay the bills while she drifted through a post-graduation identity crisis. She had viewed the constant influx of manga consumers through a purely academic lens, considering the graphic novels to be nothing more than fleeting, pop-culture commodities meant for casual entertainment.

But the caretaker’s words had shattered that assumption.

"If a lonely boy like Naruto can be strong enough to face his adversities with a smile, then so can they."

The sentence replayed in her thoughts with striking clarity. Joan looked down at the tiered display rack near the entrance, her eyes tracking the bold red background of Naruto Volume 9 resting in the tenth-place slot. She realized she had been completely blind to the true heartbeat of modern storytelling. Her Languages and Literature degree had taught her to respect the ancient, centuries-old classics of the kingdom because of their historical permanence, but she had failed to realize that living, breathing literature was happening right under her nose. Before this moment, she thought that she didn’t feel any disdain for this form of literature, but it was only now that she realized that she did feel disdain, as she didn’t even consider giving manga and light novels a chance of reading.

The children at that orphanage weren’t reading Naruto to pass the time. They were looking at those hand-drawn panels as a mirror of their own isolation, drawing real-world emotional survival, resilience, and hope from a fictional character’s journey. It was a flawless execution of what her college professor had defined as pure art—a profound transfer of lived feelings that successfully infected and inspired the souls of its audience.

A quiet, unexpected feeling of inspiration began to blossom inside Joan’s chest. For months, she had been searching for a spark, a sign of what direction her career and her love for words should take. Now, looking at the hollowed-out towers of manga books, she felt an intense, burning curiosity. She didn’t want to just look at the cover art as an academic outsider anymore. She wanted to understand the character who was giving thousands of lonely children the strength to smile against the odds.

’I’ll buy the first volume of this Naruto manga before leaving the store later.’ She decided with a determined face before walking away towards the store canteen.