Chapter 6
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Warrenberg Publishing House
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Warrenberg Publishing House
"I'm free!!"
It took several days. Subjectively, it felt even longer. Just to finish one volume's worth of a novel.
I added more content where needed and cut out what wasn't.
Then I read it over and over, revising endlessly. There was so damn much to fix!
I should've written it properly the first time. Even I could spot the blatant typos everywhere.
「Senyora pasted a bandage on the child's scraped knee and said,
"...Hurry and give birth."
"Yes!"」
"What do you mean 'give birth,' for crying out loud."
You could've noticed how weird that was while writing it, Aren from a few days ago.
Even a single awkward phrase would bug me so much I'd agonize over it for minutes at a time.
「"Kuhuk."」
"Who in the world laughs like 'kuhuk'?"
「"Ahahaha!"」
"That's booming."
「"Ufufu..."」
"Sounds like a squinty-eyed character."
「"Nyaha!"」
"...This is Ranyori."
"Should I call Ranyori?"
"No, it's nothing."
"Okay."
「"Kahahahaha!! Ahahaha!!"」
"? ...Did I fall asleep mid-writing?"
「"Heung~"」
"Hmm..."
Honestly, some parts still bug me... but I don't have the confidence to improve them further.
Anyway, as long as it doesn't have blatantly weird lines, readers probably won't mind!
So, the manuscript is done.
No point rereading it now—it'd just make me nitpick more. Time to seal it away.
Now I just need to irresponsibly toss it at a contest or publisher.
Why "toss"? Because I want a break for a while...
I wasn't expecting huge success from my novel anyway.
Honestly, fat chance. I just wrote what my heart desired.
Submitting it is just making use of what I wrote. No reason not to.
If I'm super lucky, it gets published.
Then I can write leisurely and wrap it up nicely.
Of course, that's wishful thinking. It'll probably get rejected.
Rejection wouldn't be the end of the world. That's the default.
Just get some feedback.
Get the manuscript back... keep it, and maybe print one copy at my own expense.
Pay a print shop, right? Totally worth it for a commemorative copy.
Worth showing Ranyori, at least.
"Eh... no contests..."
Bad timing. Most decent contests just ended.
Should've checked deadlines earlier and rushed it.
"Oh yeah, contests have word count rules and stuff, right?"
Then it wouldn't have worked anyway!
I couldn't revise while strictly hitting some arbitrary length after already writing so much!
Just send it to a publisher! Harder for newbies to debut that way, but!
Might even get personal feedback?
And contests... the whole competition format is intimidating anyway...
I quickly found publishers to submit to.
No energy to shop around, so nearby ones.
No search tools here, so hunting them down is a pain.
Oh...! Found one.
Name's 'Warrenberg Publishing House'.
Decent size. Too small feels off, too big is intimidating.
Off I go. Sent the manuscript by mail. Might hear back in a few days.
Of course, they might ghost me entirely... but then,
Swallow tears, rewrite with new material...
"Ranyori!"
"??"
"Let's play!"
"Yay!"
And for the time being, I set it aside.
I'd done all I could. Now it's up to fate.
Just need some luck...
「Hello, this is Warrenberg, president of Warrenberg Publishing House.
I read the work you sent with great interest.
…
…
…
For those reasons, would you be available to meet in person?」
"? What."
Aren, you'd been miraculously lucky.
Warrenberg. A man who loved reading books.
He liked any genre—as long as it was a book, he devoured it all.
Autobiographies, poetry collections, even old bards' black comedies—collections of mocking songs.
He especially loved novels. Adventure tales, romances.
Tragedies and comedies alike. He'd once thought tragedies held deeper stories, but...
With age, sad tales grew harder to stomach. Lately, comedies were his go-to.
Or novels where protagonists endlessly pondered death out of nowhere.
He read indiscriminately—any book at all.
"Whatcha reading?"
"A book about a protagonist adventuring to find a shark flying through the skies."
"Why read something like that?"
"Sounds weird, right? But it's surprisingly deep. The sky shark symbolizes his childhood..."
"Just read a hero fighting dragons, boss."
"Sadly, can't."
"Why?"
"Burned out on 'em."
"Eek."
Like Picasso chasing ever-bolder visions, he'd grown bored of the mainstream and hunted obscure books wildly... but he loved books all the same.
And loving something profoundly shapes one's career path.
So he thought,
'Maybe I should write a book?'
It bombed spectacularly.
Nothing much to say. Passion aside, he had no talent for it.
'Damn.'
But he didn't quit entirely.
Just a slight pivot.
Couldn't write, but he could read.
And he read anything, voraciously.
So instead of writing books, he'd publish them.
Action was swift. Inept at writing, but capable otherwise.
Young, he started a small publishing house.
Quiet neighborhood, no major fame, but he was content.
Even hired one employee.
-Creak...
"Ah, hello. What brings you here?"
"Came for free food."
"...?"
"Starving. Have mercy on a poor beastkin."
"I'm not exactly flush myself..."
"What? I came expecting a meal, but you're hollow inside?"
"Out."
"Sorry. Just exhausted, words slipped."
"...So that's it?"
"No food, then at least a nap?"
"Why should I?"
"I do errands great. Housework too."
"Wait, you're here for food and bragging about housework—"
She did it well.
By the time he'd finished a book, the place was spotless.
Scattered trash, books strewn across the desk—all gone.
How'd she know where every book went...?
He hired her on the spot.
"Eh? I'm a free spirit, unbound by anything."
"Money, food, bed—all yours."
"Tempting... but no hard work."
"Just housework."
"Loyalty pledged."
"Let's do this."
"So what is this place?"
"You came without knowing?"
"Paper smell strong, you look like a nerd, so not dangerous."
"..."
Rocky start... but it smoothed out over time.
Even dropped formal speech.
She was a beastkin.
Red hair with perky round ears,
an oddly short-tailed rat beastkin.
"Hamster. Not rat."
"What's the difference?"
"Boss, if I said I couldn't tell if you're skeleton or human, how'd that feel?"
"Huh, that was my old nickname. Skinny back then."
"Umm... you get it."
"Doesn't faze me."
"...Whatever."
"?"
Name: Chabi.
So tiny, he'd thought her a kid.
Head barely past his navel.
Average height guy here.
Airplane games viable. Whee!
Adult, though.
Species trait, probably.
"Boss okay employing me?"
"Hmm... what's that mean?"
"Well... I can tell at a glance..."
"...You're not a minor, are you?!"
"? No? Told you I'm adult."
"Ah, scared me for nothing."
"I'm beastkin."
"Lucky no rhinitis."
"Not that... eek, forget I asked."
"??"
Smooth sailing anyway.
No riches, but steady income.
Doing what he loved, getting paid.
Warrenberg's take on that life:
"Should've learned magic."
"That again."
"Still hope? Last flame of Warrenberg in his mid-to-late 30s?"
"No way. I'd be unemployed."
"Magic means more money."
"What about me? Abandoned?"
"You're housework pro. You'd tag along anyway."
"...Quit this gig?"
Reality checks hit periodically.
When novels bored him silly.
Wished he'd picked a high-paying job instead.
Lately, more frequent.
Novel scene stagnating, starting to rot.
"Boss. Quit slacking, read this."
"What."
"Letter. Thick—manuscript vibes."
"...Who from?"
"Dunno. Total newbie."
"Ooh... exciting after so long?"
"That all?"
"Not magic! I'm novel guy."
"Regret giving it..."
Warrenberg adjusted his glasses and tore through the manuscript.
Pages rustled, filling the office.
"...Turning too fast? Boring?"
"Nah... it's good."
"Yeah?"
"Reads smooth. Simple style... but not childish?"
"Good then."
"...This is totally our kinda novel?"
"Eh, so weird and lame?"
"What're you saying..."
Warrenberg Publishing House.
Tiny outfit in a quiet neighborhood.
Why it chugged along nicely: one reason.
They took any unique material.
No—actively sought the weird stuff.
Born from Warrenberg's binge-reading even trash.
Published overlooked works, but occasionally irregular gems.
Unique tales that hooked the masses.
Or bizarre head-slappers.
All stirred reader buzz once.
And all from Warrenberg Publishing—drew eyes.
Earned its niche rep.
"Give it a read."
"Hmm... beastkin protagonist? Risky."
"Right? But light tone."
"Write human then?"
"Misses the flavor!"
"...Kinda get it now. After reading."
"Yeah?"
"No biggie to me. Publishing?"
"Worth a shot? Meet first. Stationery."
"Yup~"