Chapter 7: The Summoning of a Big Shot

Originally, Marlon had been trying his best to maintain the image of an older brother, deliberately avoiding any intimate physical contact with the little fox-girl.

But after his conversation with Inspector Bernard, Marlon’s courage swelled dramatically. He still wouldn’t go out of his way to act inappropriately, of course—but if the little fox-girl took the initiative to get close to him, Marlon would never, under any circumstances, refuse her.

In fact, Amy, the little fox-girl, had just turned ten. Girls at this age—unless they were naturally naïve—usually had at least a basic understanding of the distinctions between boys and girls.

And yet, Marlon—who was he?

He was the kind of “weird older brother” who could, with a single blink of his eye, spin out vibrant metaphors and tell all sorts of strange, whimsical stories as if they had been plucked from some otherworldly dream. In this world, that sort of talent was truly one of a kind!

If someone like him couldn’t even accept the rare, almost innocent gestures of closeness from a cute little fox-girl who rarely interacted with others, wouldn’t that be a bit of a personal failure?

So one night, Marlon deliberately lowered his voice and spun a “sinister” story—a twisted fairy tale mixing elements of A Nightmare on Elm Street with Bluebeard. Normally, Amy would sit across from him, listening quietly, but that night, she shifted her seat so that she was right next to him…

Wanting more, Marlon resolved to follow through on the promise he had made days ago—to take Amy out and continue deepening their bond.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Just as Marlon was about to set everything in motion, the door to the villa was knocked upon. Standing there, out of breath, was Arandor, the vice president of Emerald Crest Publishing.

“Lister… there’s an important person from the capital, Phineco. He suddenly appeared at our publishing house and asked to meet you… His status is too exalted for Miss Ivna to refuse.”

Marlon’s cheerful mood, which had been as clear as a summer sky, immediately clouded over.

“An important person?” The words hit him like a thunderclap. His pleasant daydreams collapsed under a dark storm of irritation. “I won’t see him! Who cares how important he is? Does he think the whole world revolves around him? That everyone has to cater to his whims?”

Deep down, Marlon hated these so-called “big shots” who, simply because they held power, acted as though the world owed them obedience.

I don’t need to beg or grovel for anything—so why should I run over and serve you like a loyal servant?

That was exactly the mood Marlon was in: a mixture of righteous defiance and an urgent desire to continue strengthening his bond with the adorable little fox-girl. His tone, tinged with both impatience and determination, was perfectly natural.

Though he had successfully executed his “triple-win” plan and gained fame as a prodigy writer, at heart, Marlon was still the fiery young man he had been before crossing into this world. And young men, by nature, usually despise those in power.

Arandor’s expression was an odd mix of exasperation and amusement. After all, he had rushed over at the mere mention of the esteemed visitor’s wish: “I want to meet the genius young writer, Marlon Lister.” By Marlon’s standards, Arandor might as well have been acting as that person’s “mother”!

But the visitor’s identity forced Arandor to suppress his urge to laugh and continue persuading Marlon. “Mr. Lister, the matter is… this person holds the post of Minister of Culture and is also an Executive Member of the Postwar Reconstruction Committee…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence; Marlon could piece the rest together. Whether it was the authority of the Minister of Culture or the temporary executive position in the postwar reconstruction committee, both had the power to influence the two most important things Marlon was working on to secure his livelihood.

Marlon might be a hot-blooded young man, but that didn’t make him a fool. He understood perfectly well what Arandor hadn’t said.

Yet, having already decided not to cater to anyone earlier, was he going to suddenly grovel just because he now knew the visitor’s title? That would be self-betrayal.

A man had to have some backbone. Otherwise… even Amy, clever and charming though she was, might secretly look down on her “weird older brother.”

Marlon’s gaze flicked quickly to the little fox-girl. Her sapphire-blue eyes, bright and expectant, met his, only for him to shift his gaze back to Arandor.

“Sorry, I’m busy. Actions speak louder than words…”

Then, locking eyes with Amy again, he continued softly, “Right now, the most important thing for me is to keep my promise and spend the day with the adorable Amy… and with Miss Adela, who juggles so many roles, including looking after little Anvi. We’re going to the beach to have a proper, carefree day—not to meet some so-called important person.”

Perhaps it was the intensity of his gaze, but after a brief moment of looking at him, Amy shyly averted her sapphire-blue eyes. After all, she was still a young girl just beginning to experience the stirrings of affection.

Yet, behind her, her fluffy, blue-tipped fox tail betrayed her true feelings, swishing lightly with excitement.

Seeing Amy’s adorable, bashful posture, only one thought arose in Marlon’s mind:

Haha, worth it!

Who cares if I don’t act as the “genius young writer” for a while? With the unconventional ideas I brought from Earth, why would I starve? Why would I fail to support a family?

“Ladies! Gentlemen! Let’s go!”

In high spirits, Marlon swung his hand in a leader-like gesture, hoisted his large bag onto his back, and strode out first.

Behind him, Amy scampered after him, her fluffy sapphire-blue tail wagging gleefully.

Then came Adela, carrying a small bag, holding Anvi’s hand with an equally eager expression, ready to accompany them.

And at the very back, perched atop the massive, fur-covered animal companion known as the Giant Spotted Badger, was their clawed druid master. Marlon wasn’t foolish—though he had donated most of his wealth, he still had to consider the possibility of someone trying to kidnap the young, wealthy Marlon. For safety’s sake, he wasn’t going to leave home without a personal bodyguard, even one who didn’t charge him a fee.

“Lister… Marlon Lister! You… you… ah!”

Arandor, who had assumed that merely revealing the visitor’s identity would soften Marlon’s attitude, was left dumbfounded. He tried to call after him, but Marlon, seemingly oblivious, continued on with his group, disappearing from view.

“What… what do we do now?!”

Arandor, unable to stop him, stomped his feet in frustration.

“Easy!” Inspector Bernard said, scowling both at Arandor and the situation. “Go back and tell that important person that when you arrived in a hurry, this brat had already gone off to play—no one knows exactly where he went.”

Once Arandor departed, Bernard muttered angrily to himself, “That little brat! Fine if he won’t meet that so-called important person, but to sweet-talk my little Amy right in front of me… damn it! Damn that brat!”

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