Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 1: The Heavenly Way Shows No Favor, But Longs for the Virtuous
Faced with hundreds of letters arriving each day, and an endless stream of visitors knocking at his door,
Whether he wanted it or not, Marlon had to admit a startling truth: he had effectively become the first ever “genius young author” in history whose fame had spread far and wide, even though not a single book of his had yet been published.
It began with the sensational hype in the top-selling newspapers and magazines, whose terrifying circulation numbers had thrust Marlon into the public eye overnight.
Then came the meticulously orchestrated flyers, distributed a day later under the decisive guidance of Ivna, each showcasing excerpts from Marlon’s works. These little pamphlets further cemented his status as a literary prodigy.
Just moments ago, Marlon had seen off Arandor, the vice president of Emerald Crest Publishing, who had come to report on the pre-order numbers for his books. According to Arandor’s data, the first batch of books—The Little Prince and the first volume of The Count of Monte Cristo, strategically chosen by Ivna—had already amassed a staggering 8,437 and 10,620 pre-orders, respectively.
And those figures were merely the sum of individual pre-orders. Bulk orders from booksellers distributing the titles to other cities and regions of Loring were still under negotiation.
After all, competition between booksellers was fierce. They were eager to secure exclusive regional rights to sell the literary works of The Wayward Traveler – Marlon, and Ivna—known as the “Red-Haired Queen” with ambitions to dominate the entire national publishing market—was not the type to sign such agreements lightly.
Yet, according to the beaming Arandor, these large orders from booksellers could easily push the first print run of The Little Prince and The Count of Monte Cristo to no less than half a million copies.
Though the Loring Republic was a global power with more than forty cities exceeding 300,000 residents and over two hundred with populations above 100,000, a nationwide distribution of books made a first print of half a million not particularly intimidating.
But looking at it another way…
A fourteen-year-old boy, with no previous bestsellers to his name, was about to have a combined first print of at least one million copies for just two books. That was the sort of achievement that inspired awe, envy, and admiration all at once.
Yet, thinking of Marlon’s essay, “I Have a Dream”, most of that envy and jealousy naturally transformed into genuine admiration and respect.
A fourteen-year-old had written an article brimming with dreamlike imagery and idealism, and had donated a staggering sixty thousand Lants to war orphans and disabled veterans. Who could dare criticize him for that?
Indeed, apart from the ten thousand Lants he had donated on Bamubuk Street, three days later, after The White Sand Daily reported on the blind, war-wounded veteran begging on the street, and the dock laborer walking barefoot for hours, Marlon promptly decided to donate another fifty thousand Lants to build a retirement home for disabled veterans.
Everyone knew that when Marlon had left Emerald Crest Publishing, he had walked away with two checks in hand: one for 110,000 Lants for the venerable old paladin, and another for 76,300 Lants.
Who else, after acquiring such wealth, could be so generous?
Generous, kind, and endowed with talents and wisdom far beyond his years—the public’s view of Marlon now painted exactly that picture.
In truth, this assessment had taken Marlon by surprise. In his original “Triple Win” plan, he had envisioned himself merely as the minor player who would contribute the least but exert the most effort.
He chuckled softly. Perhaps this was what fate had in store for those who were virtuous—an unseen “heavenly reward for the righteous.”
Holding the latest issue of White Sand Morning News, Marlon pondered these thoughts.
Prominently displayed in the paper was a new article written in the form of a review by the journalist whose previous report, “Two Hundred Thirty-Seven Thousand Four Hundred Lants and Three Purs and Nine Pennies”, had propelled the White Sand Daily to sell 74,300 copies.
First Impressions of The Little Prince —
“I have to admit, this is a fairy tale meant for children, so reading it as an adult, I am perhaps a little late.”
“It’s a pity I didn’t encounter this book as a child. Then, I might have understood why adults fail to comprehend my world, why they are so busy, why they are so stern; I might have walked my own path in my small world, counting the little deer in my dreams, smelling the flowers I passed along the way.”
“Yet, I am also fortunate. I did not ultimately miss this book, this fairy tale that touches each reader differently depending on their age, even though I am now grown.”
“Just as our prodigious little Marlon wrote on the title page—All grown-ups were once children.”
The journalist was clearly already a devoted reader of Marlon, and his entire review brimmed with praise for both The Little Prince and Marlon himself—which the book indeed deserved.
Just as Marlon was about to set the paper down, a steady knock at the door echoed before he could move.
“It’s me,” came the voice of Inspector Bernard from outside the door. “Marlon, I just saw Master Claw Druid leave. You’re free now, yes?”
Conchita Bowden, the Claw Druid, had not actually left White Sand City; she had moved uninvited into Inspector Bernard’s house and spent her days inquiring about Marlon’s progress in deciphering the Book of Aery. Marlon had been careful to prevent the curious druid from discovering his manuscripts written in the ancient “Chinese” script.
Of course, having the Claw Druid around had its advantages.
In just a few days, she had caught five thieves attempting to break into the small villa. Marlon was unsure whether these thieves had targeted him, or the room filled with bags of glittering gold coins belonging to the Claw Druid…
Every evening, the druid would go out for a stroll, conversing with the plants she cherished. So now, she was indeed absent from Marlon’s combined bedroom and study.
“Come in!” Marlon replied hurriedly, setting the paper down. “I am free. Is there something you need, Uncle Bernard?”
Inspector Bernard stepped inside, glanced at Marlon, and then delivered news that took him completely off guard.
“Marlon, that despicable uncle of yours is dead. His skull was split open. Judging by the state of decomposition, he likely died the night you submitted your manuscript at Emerald Crest Publishing.”
After a pause, Bernard continued, “I should tell you now—your wretched uncle was actually the victim of the attempted robbery by our paladin, Andrew Carnegie.”
“Uncle Bernard… you mean… he was killed to cover it up?!”
Marlon, of course, was not slow to realize the answer the moment Bernard finished speaking.
Bernard nodded and continued, “Also, I investigated. Those who witnessed the robbery and the capture—whether elderly, children, or pregnant women—they have all… disappeared.”
Upon hearing this, Marlon remained silent.
Inspector Bernard reached out, patting Marlon’s youthful shoulder. “Child, you must be careful. Remember, for the sake of their own gain, they can do things even demons would hesitate to do.”
“Uncle Bernard… what did the thieves confess?”
Marlon nodded silently and then asked a question that seemed unrelated.