I am the Entertainment Tycoon Chapter 993: A Promise to Grandpa

Minamoto stared at his grandfather, his eyes wide as the old man’s words echoed in the silence of the bedroom.

A sudden, painful clarity washed over him. In his obsession to provide for his grandparents, he had inadvertently done the very thing he swore he would never do: he had filled his grandfather’s remaining lucid days with guilt and worry instead of pride.

The harsh reality hit him all at once. Looking back over the grueling months of endless delivery shifts, he realized with a pang of guilt that he couldn’t even remember the last time they had all shared a meal together, or simply sat down for a long conversation.

Seeing the stunned, silent expression on his grandson’s face, the old man’s stern expression softened. He let out a gentle sigh. "I-chan, I may be forgetting things," he murmured, his voice trembling slightly. "But I still remember the beautiful, shining light in your eyes when you told me you would write a manga for me to read. I want to read it, I-chan. I want to read it before I forget everything."

Those words completely shattered Minamoto’s fragile resolve. The heavy dam of exhaustion and suppressed emotion finally broke. Tears welled up and streamed freely down his face.

"I’m sorry, Grandpa..." he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m so sorry. I just wanted to be strong for you and Grandma."

The old man looked at him with an unconditionally loving gaze. Reaching out with wrinkled, calloused hands, he pulled the weeping young man into a tight embrace.

"You silly boy," his grandfather whispered softly against his hair. "Haven’t I always taught you? True strength comes from inside, not from carrying the whole world on your own."

Minamoto clung to his grandfather’s shirt, his shoulders shaking violently as years of bottled-up exhaustion, anxiety, and grief poured out.

"Forgive me, Grandpa... I’m so sorry," he sobbed, his voice cracking into a desperate whisper. "I felt like if I stopped for even a second, everything would fall apart. I didn’t want to fail you. In the end, I wasted the precious time I have left with you."

The old man held him tightly, rocking him gently just as he had done a decade ago when a twelve-year-old Minamoto lost his parents. To the rest of Elffire City, Minamoto was an adult provider, a tireless machine working seven days a week. But looking down through eyes clouded by age and illness, the old man didn’t see a provider. He saw a frightened, exhausted child who had been forced to grow up far too fast by a world that was never kind to him.

"There is nothing to forgive, my boy," his grandfather murmured, his voice rich with the calm wisdom that only a long, full life could give. He gently patted Minamoto’s back with his weathered hand. "You think you are protecting us by sacrificing your soul, but a house built on the bones of your dreams is not a home we can be happy in. True strength isn’t about running until your heart stops. It is knowing when to pause, breathe, and let the people who love you help carry the load."

He pulled back slightly, forcing Minamoto to look into his wise, clear eyes.

"Life is a marathon, I-chan, not a sprint to the grave. If you burn your candle at both ends just to keep us warm, you will leave us in total darkness when you are gone. Your grandma and I don’t need a perfect life. We just need you. We need to see that spark in your eyes again. It was the light shining from your room as you worked on your manga before bed that gave your grandma and me the strength to keep going."

Those words hit Minamoto even harder than before. A wave of realization washed over him; he had absolutely no idea that his grandparents had been drawing strength from him all this time. It became painfully clear that by leaving his desk dark the previous night, he hadn’t just given up on himself—he had inadvertently deepened his grandparents’ sorrow. The old man gently cupped Minamoto’s face, wiping away the tears with his thumb. He looked deeply into his grandson’s eyes and asked, the final question carrying the weight of his remaining clarity, "Will you pursue your dreams, I-chan? I want to read your manga."

Hearing that final, desperate plea, Minamoto’s breathing finally slowed. The chaotic storm of emotions inside him settled into a calm, fierce resolve. He squeezed his grandfather’s hands tightly, his posture straightening as he looked back with absolute conviction.

"I will, Grandpa," Minamoto said, his voice ringing firm and steady through the quiet room. "I won’t stop drawing. I promise you, I will make you proud, and you will read my manga."

A peaceful smile broke across the old man’s weathered face, knowing the bright spark in his grandson’s eyes had finally returned.

"Good!" the old man said simply. Then, his voice snapped back into a stern, commanding tone. "But not tonight. You are going to sleep early, and you are absolutely not working tomorrow!"

Minamoto instinctively opened his mouth to protest. "But, Grandpa, I—"

"Look at you! Talking back to your grandfather, are we?" the old man cut him off sharply.

The reprimand instantly silenced the youth.

"I-chan, you haven’t looked in a mirror lately, have you?" his grandfather scolded loudly, his eyes narrowing. "You look awful. Even my old bones are holding up better than you! Look at those heavy bags under your eyes." His expression softened then, a deep, protective sorrow breaking through his rough exterior. "I-chan... I do not want my final memory to be watching my own grandson drop dead before me."

Minamoto lowered his head, unable to find any words to counter the truth. Still, he muttered in a small, strained voice, "I know, Grandpa. But we need the money for your care and the house."

"Silly boy! We can sell off some of our things, or we can simply eat less!" the old man exclaimed, waving his hand dismissively. "Besides, missing a day or two of work won’t ruin us. It’s decided then. You are staying home tomorrow, and I don’t want to hear another word about it!"

Knowing it was useless to fight further, Minamoto let out a slow, yielding breath. "Okay, Grandpa. I understand."

He had officially lost the argument. Yet, the moment the words left his lips, an incredible wave of relief washed over him. His muscles unlocked, and his entire body seemed to sink into the mattress at the mere thought of resting. It had been so long since he had allowed himself a single day of peace.

The old man offered a satisfied smile. "Good. It seems you still listen to this old sack of bones."

"I’ll always listen to you, Grandpa," Minamoto replied earnestly.

"Okay, okay. Go to sleep now. I know you’re exhausted." The old man pushed himself up from the mattress, and Minamoto hurriedly stood up to guide him safely back to his own bedroom.

Once his grandfather was tucked in, Minamoto returned to his room, collapsed onto his bed, and blacked out the moment his head hit the pillow.

His sleep was the calmest and most serene he had experienced in years, as if a crushing weight had finally been lifted from his chest. For the first time in memory, his internal alarm didn’t wake him up at dawn. He slept heavily, undisturbed, until he finally opened his eyes at 11:00 AM.

He spent a deeply fulfilling day at home. He helped his grandmother clean the house and assist his grandfather, and they sat together for hours, talking about everything and nothing at all. Even though his grandfather wasn’t as sharp as the night before and occasionally drifted into forgetfulness, Minamoto felt an overwhelming sense of happiness. He finally had the time to simply exist with the people he loved most.

They even took a gentle walk in the nearby park, watching the sunset bleed into the horizon together. Back home, they shared a hearty dinner filled with laughter. It was only after he safely helped his grandparents to bed that Minamoto finally sat down at his bedroom desk. His heart beat with a renewed purpose: he was absolutely determined to make his grandfather read his published work.

For the past few years, his bone-deep exhaustion had limited his drawing to a frantic, isolated hour before bed. He hadn’t spent any time researching the industry online, leaving him completely out of touch with the modern manga landscape. Because of this, he decided not to pick up his pen tonight. Instead, he opened his laptop to research potential publishing houses where he could submit his manuscript.

After thirty minutes of scrolling, he found the usual corporate giants, but one unexpected discovery caught his eye. A new, ambitious local publishing house had recently exploded onto the scene. Remarkably, their flagship series had already cracked the top ten best-selling manga list for April. Even better, this rising company was based in Elffire City and actively recruiting new creators to launch their very own monthly manga magazine.

Minamoto’s eyes ignited. It was the perfect opportunity. He could submit his work directly to a thriving company without ever having to leave Elffire City.

A fierce flame of hope erupted in his chest.

"Fuji Jump!" he whispered with intense excitement, staring at the flashing logo on his screen. "I have to submit my manga to them. No matter what, I have to get selected!"

Would life turn around for him?