Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 22: Changing Allegiances and the Power of Enchantment
“I will sign and give priority to publishing your Snow White. The copyright fee will follow the same standard as The Little Prince. However… the full payment may be delayed for a while.”
This, at least, was Ivna’s good news.
The day before, when Ivna had gone to Inspector Bernard’s house, she deliberately struck up a conversation with Marlon’s younger cousin, Anvi. From little Anvi’s mouth, she easily coaxed out the story Marlon had told him—Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, featuring the little fox girl Amy.
“Looks like…”
Marlon paused in thought for a long while before speaking again, slowly: “Looks like, President Ivna, your finances and your distribution channels really have run into serious trouble.”
Ivna remained silent. She gave no reply, but such silence was itself a tacit admission.
“President Ivna, if I may… would you tell me some of what I’m allowed to know?” Marlon’s tone was unusually sincere. “Perhaps I can offer some advice. Maybe lend a little help.”
“You? Impossible. You can’t help me.”
Ivna frowned. She admired Marlon’s literary talent, yes—but she simply could not believe that a boy raised in the slums could possibly solve her problems.
It was goodwill, yes. But Ivna had no idea that inside the body of the boy before her dwelled the soul of an adult man, one with pride, one who loathed being looked down upon by a woman.
Thus, her dismissive attitude stung. Marlon raised his brows in irritation and shot back, “And how would you know I can’t—unless you try me first?!”
Had these words been spoken in another setting, they might have sounded dangerously suggestive. Neither Ivna nor Marlon realized it at the time.
Ordinarily, even if Marlon had spoken a hundred times more righteously, Ivna would not have revealed a single detail.
But somehow, when she lifted her brows in defiance and met Marlon’s dark, luminous eyes—eyes that now blazed with an unusual light born of anger—she suddenly felt as though… perhaps she should tell him.
So, against her better judgment, Ivna changed her mind. “You must swear that you will not repeat a word of what I say.”
“I swear! Not a single word will escape me!”
In a concise account, Ivna finally explained why she had said her finances and channels were in shambles—
And Marlon realized, to his dismay, that he himself bore some responsibility.
Three days earlier, one morning, he had flatly—almost mockingly—refused the greedy attempt of Old Gavi-Riley, who had tried to snatch the copyright of The Little Prince at a dirt-cheap price. Old Gavi-Riley, who already monopolized two-thirds of the publishing business in White Sand City, had been furious.
When he later learned that Ivna had purchased the copyright at a high price and even gathered reporters to promote both Marlon and The Little Prince, Old Gavi-Riley felt his pride trampled into the mud.
In retaliation, he wielded his overwhelming influence. Overnight, not a single newspaper in White Sand City carried so much as a whisper about Marlon or his book.
Then he turned to the distribution channels—threatening, bribing, and cajoling—until not a single distributor dared take on The Little Prince.
Of course, with a reputation as fearsome as “The Red-Haired Queen,” Ivna had no shortage of informants eager to report on her greatest rival’s moves. Thus, these two days she had been searching desperately for countermeasures.
Normally, Ivna could have handled this alone. But then came another disaster, one that struck directly at her lifeline—the Sols Bank bombing and robbery.
The catastrophe leveled the bank’s main building. In one stroke, Sols Bank’s credit was destroyed, a bank run ensued, and Old Gavi-Riley seized the chance to crush Emerald Crest Publishing once and for all.
For Sols Bank had been Ivna’s strategic partner.
This unexpected blow left Ivna no choice but to turn her gaze to the wealthy Von Stein family—her fiancé, Descartes Neulen von Stein, and his clan of White Sand tycoons.
But alas, Ivna could no longer stomach Descartes’s buffoonish, petty airs. In a fit of anger, she had dragged Marlon from his carriage the other day. That single act all but severed any hope of support from the Von Steins.
Thus, she had set her sights on Marlon’s little fairy tale, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.
Her plan was simple: publish the book cheaply under a new pen name, even at a loss, to attract a wide following. Then, once the market was primed, release The Little Prince at full price and recoup the profits.
Marlon had to admit, it was a bold and elegant plan.
“But aren’t you afraid,” he asked, half in jest, “that once I become famous, I’ll be lured away by another publisher?”
“What do you mean, ‘lured away’?” Ivna raised an eyebrow.
“Ah—cough, it’s just a country saying. Means leaving for another place, another employer.”
Marlon quickly patched the word, realizing this was no Earth but another world altogether.
Ivna nodded as if she understood, then raised two fingers with confidence. “First, I believe you are a man of loyalty—and so am I. Second, loyalty often falters when betrayal pays more. I will give you enough benefit that you will never again think of that country saying of yours.”
Well. With words like that, what more could Marlon say?
“Ivna, you are destined to become a true queen—at least in publishing,” he said with genuine admiration.
“Let the future take care of itself.” Ivna waved it aside, eyes fixed on him. “For now, I want only to hear your idea.”
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
“My idea…” Marlon lifted the cup of honey water beside him and drained it in one gulp.
“Ivna, we could rope in that desperate banker from Sols and stage a grand spectacle—an event destined to be written into history!”
“If it succeeds—Ivna, you will seize the publishing market of White Sand City, even open the way into the Lorin market. Sols will restore his bank’s credit and escape ruin. And I will rise overnight as a so-called genius youth author.”
“In short, this will be a threefold profit… a triple victory.”
In that moment, Marlon seemed possessed—like the spirit of a certain infamous little-mustached Führer of the Third Reich had descended into him.