Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 2: Warmth and Chill in the Heart
After twenty minutes of washing up and changing into his cleanest set of clothes, a completely refreshed Marlon descended from the loft. Clutching the manuscript of The Little Prince, he hurried through the narrow, uneven streets of the slums, heading toward the only tram-stationed steam bus stop in the area.
Though never particularly punctual, taking the tram-style steam bus was still the most convenient way to reach the publishers in the central district.
On both sides of the gray, dreary slum streets, three or four middle-aged men—some missing limbs, all sitting listlessly in the sun—were scattered at intervals. They were of every race imaginable… humans, dwarves, elves, orcs, and an even greater number of mixed-bloods.
Once soldiers, they had fought passionately for the freedom of Loring, hailed as heroes.
Now the war was over, leaving them with nothing more than a meager pension, abandoned and forgotten in the slums.
Marlon sighed softly, keeping his head down as he walked forward in silence. There was nothing he could do for these once-passionate, now-disillusioned war veterans.
Rounding a corner, a massive steam locomotive suddenly appeared, puffing white smoke and sliding awkwardly but impressively across Marlon’s path.
“Hey, Marlon! Look who’s here! So, where are you off to?”
A broad-shouldered, bull-headed youth removed the large sunglasses perched on his flat nose and greeted Marlon with a three-fingered hand.
“Ester?”
Marlon looked up. His memory told him this bull-headed youth was named Ester—a childhood friend of Marlon-Lister, someone he had grown up with—though he had moved out of the slums last year.
Such things weren’t unusual; even in the slums, millionaires occasionally appeared.
Ester’s father was precisely such a man, blessed with both luck and extraordinary ability, even if his outward appearance suggested nothing more than a clumsy, hulking orc.
As for Ester, he hadn’t returned to the slums in quite some time. But Marlon could tell that Ester wasn’t the type to forget poor friends after gaining wealth.
After exchanging greetings, Marlon smiled and added, “It’s been a while… nice ride.”
“Hahaha, of course it is!”
Receiving Marlon’s praise, the bull-headed youth laughed heartily, thumping the steel beast beneath him before casually adding, “Sabretooth Leopard Mark III steam locomotive! Strong enough to topple mammoths, faster than a cloud leopard, sturdier than a bull-headed orc… A few weeks ago, it was a critical military asset. My father pulled some strings and shelled out two hundred Lants to get it from the leftover military warehouse!”
The word “Lant” was familiar to Marlon—it was the currency of the Loring Republic, though his entire fortune now amounted to merely… two Lants, seven pence, and four purs.
By now, the towering Ester had leapt from the locomotive and enveloped the comparatively fragile Marlon in a bear hug.
“Bro, you still haven’t answered my question.”
Ester’s wide, bull-like mouth pressed nearly against Marlon’s ear.
“I’m just heading to Ban Mubuk Street for a small errand,” Marlon replied with a wry smile, trying to wriggle free. After all, Ester was an orc, and talking this close meant a lot of flying saliva.
“Ban Mubuk Street? That’s quite a distance!” Ester touched his chin, and in the next moment, Marlon found himself dragged onto the Sabretooth Leopard Mark III.
“Bro, you better praise me! Haha, because I just decided to give you a ride to Ban Mubuk Street!”
Turning his head to speak, the bull-headed youth’s face lit up with an infectious, carefree grin.
Marlon felt a warmth in his chest.
Inheriting memories from Marlon-Lister, he recalled a small bull-headed child in a diaper pants.
“Hey—are you Marlon? If you promise to be my friend, I, Ester-Stonehoof, will always protect you!”
Then came a face almost identical to the cheerful grin before him, only smaller and childlike.
Hah…
Could it be that Ester still remembered that childhood promise?
Unfortunately, Marlon was no longer the Marlon-Ester of those childhood days.
“Thank you, Ester.”
Marlon spoke with a hint of emotion. He could not explain the truth to the bull-headed youth; all he could say was thanks.
“Ha, what kind of praise is that? Never mind, you’ve always been as clingy as a pure-blood elf!”
Completely unaware of Marlon’s thoughts, Ester grumbled while expertly starting the locomotive. With the roar of the steam engine, they sped past the cross street in a flashy blur.
However…
An hour and a half later, Marlon, hair disheveled, stood on the roadside still two and a half streets away from Ban Mubuk Street, a look of helpless exasperation on his face.
The so-called “sturdier than a bull-headed orc” Sabretooth Leopard Mark III now resembled a giant iron turtle, taking up a third of the street. No matter how Ester, covered in grime and steam, struggled, it wouldn’t budge.
“Damn it! No wonder it only cost two hundred Lants—the core magic crystal must be a cheap knockoff from Freshwater Valley! Absolutely!”
Realizing that all his efforts couldn’t restart the stubborn locomotive, Ester’s face turned crimson as he cursed violently.
“Don’t get mad, Ester. There doesn’t seem to be a steam locomotive repair shop nearby. We should figure out a way to get this thing to the closest shop first.”
This steam locomotive, like the airship Marlon had seen that morning, used a magic crystal core to drive its steam engine. For Marlon, it was far too high-tech and fantastical.
“Eight streets! Bro, the nearest magic-crystal steam locomotive repair shop is eight streets away! Do you think the two of us can drag this thing that far?”
Ester continued shouting, itching to kick the locomotive in frustration, yet ultimately unwilling to harm it.
“Alright… Bro, what exactly are you going to do on Ban Mubuk Street?”
Grumpily withdrawing his thick bull hooves, Ester’s attention returned to Marlon.
“To submit a manuscript.”
Marlon spoke honestly, holding up the thickly bound original manuscript of The Little Prince as proof.
“Huh? Submit a manuscript?” Ester’s already large bull eyes went wide, scanning the disheveled Marlon before shouting,
“This is incredible! So my brother, Ester-Stonehoof’s buddy, is about to become a famous writer?!”
Perhaps because of Ester’s booming voice, a passing bald gnome paused mid-step, his pointed ears twitching.
“Little one, may I see your manuscript?” The bald gnome approached Marlon, examining him with interest before continuing, “I’m Old Gavi-Riley. I guess… you’ve heard that name before.”
Marlon’s expression betrayed his surprise—he had indeed heard of Old Gavi-Riley.
Old Gavi-Riley was the owner of Golden Riley Publishing, the very publisher Marlon intended to submit his work to.
Golden Riley Publishing was the largest and most famous publisher in White Sand City.
“Of course, Mr. Riley.”
Without hesitation, Marlon handed over the manuscript of The Little Prince.