Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 34: The Number One Fan
“Great Claw Druid, could you return my manuscript? I need it—I’m going to use it to exchange for the one hundred and eleven thousand Lants to buy the book.”
Marlon spoke with a faint smile, attempting to retrieve his manuscript from the claws of the Claw Druid. Over twenty pages had already been read aloud, yet the original manuscript still felt like a part of him, something irreplaceable.
“Ah, you—half-blooded brat… really, you are…”
Conchita Bowden , the clawed Druid, sighed. The druidic tradition prized harmony above all else, and frequent use of the bear transformation spell had dulled his ability to articulate thoughts sharply. He struggled to find the right words to express the overwhelming impact Marlon’s The Count of Monte Cristo had made on him. The story’s brilliance, its twists, the depth of human emotion—it left the Claw Druid both awestruck and speechless.
So, confronted by Marlon’s polite yet insistent request, the only thing the Claw Druid could do was instinctively bow and hand the manuscript over.
In Earth terms, one might say—the poor Master Druid had been utterly brainwashed into becoming Marlon’s fan.
But just as the manuscript was about to leave the Claw Druid’s grasp, just before Marlon’s fingers could touch his precious pages, a sharp voice cut through the crowd:
“Don’t give it to him! That little imp from the slums is lying! This is definitely a trap!”
Marlon’s heart skipped a beat at the shrill warning.
Turning toward the source, he recognized a familiar face: the bald old goblin, Gavi-Riley.
“You fools! Idiots! Hasn’t anyone noticed this is a setup?!”
Dressed in a meticulously tailored tailcoat, Old Gavi-Riley jumped up and down, pointing at the thick stack of manuscript still in the Druid’s hands, shouting with sharp indignation.
“I, Gavi-Riley, am the city’s most experienced publisher! I can tell you with full certainty—each sheet of this manuscript can hold no more than five hundred words, and there are no more than three hundred sheets in this stack! In total—that’s no more than one hundred and fifty thousand words!”
His declaration caused a ripple of astonishment through the crowd. Quick-minded onlookers began calculating the potential royalties, and the number came out—four thousand five hundred Lants.
Four thousand five hundred Lants—an immense sum for someone earning fifty Lants a month. Yet, compared to the ten thousand—or now, eleven thousand—Lants price of The Book of Aery, it was laughably small. How could such a paltry sum ever buy a book that truly contained secrets?
Before the crowd could voice their doubts, Marlon, fully prepared for this kind of objection, pointed at the frantic, self-important Gavi-Riley and laughed heartily.
“Shut up, you damned little brat from the slums!”
Old Gavi-Riley squirmed, embarrassed and infuriated, exposing the true nature of this pseudo-aristocratic goblin.
“Mr. Riley, you really are… a fool.”
Marlon finally ceased laughing, speaking with a casual calm that sent ripples of disbelief through the crowd. He effortlessly reclaimed his manuscript from Conchita Bowden ’s hands.
Running his fingers over the ink-scented pages, Marlon continued:
“Yes, the total word count of this stack is only a bit over one hundred and thirty thousand words. But…”
“But what?”
The Claw Druid, who had already read aloud a substantial portion of the manuscript, couldn’t help but ask, his fascination evident. Even in a world where literature was still blossoming, where stories of princes and princesses living happily ever after could be hailed as masterpieces if written with slight twists and decent prose, Marlon’s The Count of Monte Cristo was in an entirely different league.
Conchita Bowden himself had already decided—once this work was officially published, he would order a copy without hesitation. If not for the embarrassment of publicly seizing the manuscript, he might have even stolen it away to savor in private.
The Claw Druid’s eager prompting pleased Marlon. He waited until all eyes were on him, then continued slowly:
“But, Mr. Riley, it seems you don’t quite understand. Just this The Count of Monte Cristo, I plan to expand to nearly one million words.”
A collective gasp swept through the crowd.
One million words?!
In other words, the royalties from just this single novel could amount to nearly fifty thousand Lants!
Heavens above!
Add the seven other novels—titles only on the manuscript covers—and it became clear: for the young half-blood Marlon Lister, earning one hundred and eleven thousand Lants would be effortless.
Old Gavi-Riley’s eyes widened. He had never imagined that Marlon’s revelation would turn his confident calculations into a laughingstock.
“Impossible! This is absolutely impossible! There is no novel in this world over a million words! Five hundred thousand is the limit for a long novel! No one would pay for meaningless filler beyond that! You can’t fool me—I, Gavi-Riley, am a seasoned publisher! I am!”
The old goblin paused, then leapt again, shouting with a high-pitched voice.
Marlon watched the ridiculous display, a flicker of confusion crossing his mind—how could this veteran publisher, someone who had supposedly been in the business for decades, act so irrationally?
Yet his confusion didn’t stop him from speaking with biting sarcasm:
“Yes, you are a seasoned publisher, the same one who nearly tricked me out of the full copyright to The Little Prince for just two hundred Lants.”
The crowd erupted once more. Those who knew Old Gavi-Riley’s history cheered in agreement; this goblin was notorious for lowballing and cheating authors.
“As for whether five hundred thousand words is the limit for a long novel—you’ll find out when The Count of Monte Cristo is officially published.”
Without another glance at the clownish bald goblin, Marlon tucked the thick manuscript under his arm and began walking toward the Emerald Crest Publishing House.
“Step aside! Everyone, make way! Let our prodigious young author’s The Count of Monte Cristo reach Miss Ivna, the conscientious publisher, as quickly as possible!”
Someone in the crowd shouted, and immediately, the sea of onlookers parted obediently, clearing the path for Marlon to pass.