Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 4: The Queen’s Decision
“Hello, beautiful lady. I’d like to see—uh, President Ivna.”
At the Emerald Crest Publishing House, the front desk was managed by a receptionist—though she was a female troll with broad shoulders, a wide waist, and a flat face.
So, while he had no choice but to look up at her when speaking, in Marlon’s mind he couldn’t help thinking—this red-haired queen who runs Emerald Crest Publishing sure has an… interesting taste.
“Sir, are you sure you want to see our president? Do you have an appointment?”
Fortunately, a troll receptionist capable of handling front-desk duties wasn’t like the ones Marlon had read about in those online novels—the ones who would strip naked, drool, and grab people to eat.
She didn’t treat Marlon as a nuisance just because he was still a half-grown boy. Instead, she simply asked politely, her voice pleasant and clear.
I don’t have an appointment.” Marlon shook his head, but the next moment he placed half of the original manuscript of The Little Prince on the front desk. “But I have this. If President Ivna knows its value, she’ll definitely see me.”
Indeed, halfway along his way, Marlon had split the original manuscript of The Little Prince in two.
“Please wait.”
The troll receptionist only glanced at the clean, neatly bound cover of The Little Prince. Leaving behind those three words, she hurriedly took the manuscript and went stomping up to the second floor of the publishing house.
Moments later, the troll receptionist returned, hands empty.
“Sir, please follow me.”
…
Knock, knock—
The receptionist led Marlon to the tightly closed door of the president’s office and knocked.
“Hold on!”
From inside came a slightly hoarse, yet undeniably commanding voice.
A strong-willed queen indeed, Marlon thought quietly.
Then the door opened from within, and Marlon finally saw the woman he had imagined as a strong-willed queen—Ivna-Bane .
A… delicately featured woman with a head of high, neatly pinned red hair, dressed in a finely tailored pure white suit, but clearly under 1.6 meters tall, looking so fragile that a strong gust of wind might lift her off the ground—perhaps more likely, a red-haired girl rather than a woman.
Marlon felt his mind stumble—Red-Haired Queen? Is that really her nickname? Surely it’s not ironic?
“The second half.”
At that moment, the red-haired girl unceremoniously extended her pale hand toward Marlon.
“What?”
Distracted, Marlon hadn’t caught what she said.
“The second half of The Little Prince.”
The red-haired girl wasn’t angry; she simply repeated, hand still outstretched.
This time Marlon finally understood, but he wasn’t inclined to comply.
“President Ivna, I think the portion I’m giving you is already enough to publish a first volume.”
Marlon’s implication was clear—she could see the second half if she wanted, but only after negotiating the publishing terms.
“Are you truly its author?” The red-haired girl frowned, clearly displeased with his response.
But then, her expression softened, and she gestured for him to enter. “Cremit, bring two glasses of lingonberry juice.”
Marlon stepped inside and sat down, and soon the troll receptionist, Cremit, brought the juice.
“Speak. What are your conditions for authorizing publication?”
Taking a sip of lingonberry juice, Ivna’s sharp, lively eyes locked onto Marlon’s.
“100 Lant per ten thousand words as base royalty, plus a 5% print royalty. For any reprints, every extra 500,000 copies increases the royalty by 1%. Also… the first print run cannot be less than 10,000 copies.”
Since she asked for terms, Marlon wasn’t about to hold back.
Of course, he knew these terms were unlikely to be met. His goal was simply to prove to Ivna that he wasn’t an amateur author to be taken lightly.
In fact, Marlon had done his research. In this world—or at least in White Sand City—novelists starting out usually earned 50–100 Lant per ten thousand words, more experienced authors averaged 200 Lant, and the top tier could reach 500 Lant.
Print royalties existed too, but only a few famous authors could negotiate them. Even then, only the elite few would get 500 Lant per ten thousand words.
Compared to the average citizen’s monthly wage of less than fifty Lant, Marlon’s proposed terms weren’t unreasonable.
“Oh, and on my way here, I happened to meet President Old Riley of Golden Riley Publishing. He seems quite optimistic about my Little Prince.”
Marlon said this, pretending casual pride, omitting the full details of his encounter.
Naturally, this was a hint—if Ivna didn’t meet his terms, he could easily take the manuscript to Riley.
But Ivna’s response was only a calm: “You’ve stated your conditions?”
Marlon could only nod—there was nothing more to do.
“One question.” Ivna raised a finger. “Will you write other fairy tales or novels?”
“There’s… quite a few in here…” Marlon tapped his temple with his right index finger.
“Then it’s my turn to set the terms!” Ivna crossed her hands, her sharp gaze fixed on Marlon. “500 Lant per ten thousand words base royalty, 6% print royalty. For reprints, every additional one million copies increases the royalty by 15%, with a maximum cap of 15%. The first print run should be 50,000 copies.”
“Hiss—”
Marlon drew in a sharp breath. Now he understood why this seemingly fragile red-haired girl bore the title “Red-Haired Queen”—her sheer audacity justified it.
“Don’t rush. I have one additional clause: you must commit in writing that all your future works will be published by Emerald Crest .” Crossing her fingers, Ivna revealed her true aim.
After a slight pause for Marlon to digest, she continued: “Of course, I will also commit that as long as the quality of your future works is guaranteed, the royalties will never be lower than those for The Little Prince.”
Completely awed by Ivna’s boldness, did Marlon need to think further?
Ha—whether for immediate or long-term gains, he had no reason to refuse these generous terms.
So, clutching the draft publishing contract and a 1,000 Lant advance check, Marlon left Emerald Crest Publishing still feeling unreal, as if in a dream.
Why?
Why did Ivna believe in me so much? She couldn’t possibly know I’m a traveler whose mind is full of stories.
Meanwhile, as Marlon pondered this, Ivna—satisfied with the draft signed by Marlon—was being asked nearly the same question by the vice president of the publishing house, Arandor.
Ivna said nothing. She simply flipped the manuscript Marlon had left and showed the altered frontispiece to Arandor.
“All adults were once children.”
Written on the page.
“Actually, there’s a word missing here,” Ivna pointed out in the middle.
“All great people were once children?”
The white-haired Arandor read aloud as directed, and it made sense to him.
“Trust me, Uncle Arandor, I believe this Little Prince won’t make us lose money. And this boy, Marlon Lister, has eyes full of stories.” Ivna tucked a stray red lock behind her ear, her violet eyes sharp as needles. “Most importantly, our publishing house needs a new best-selling author, or we’ll eventually be devoured by Old Riley.”
Ivna showed a trace of fatigue—she was gambling.
“Ah, hasn’t the world war ended? Why is public order getting worse? If only…”
Sighing, Arandor, who knew the inner workings of the house, understood why Ivna was taking such a risk.
Seven days ago, the best-selling author carefully cultivated by Emerald Crest Publishing, the “Bard Frankenstein,” had died in a brutal home robbery.