Dragons Don't Share Treasure

Dragons are not a race that shares its treasure.

Carsen slid the manuscript toward Aurelis of Editorial Department 1.

"This is an author whose previous sales are already guaranteed. More than ten thousand readers have already declared their intent to pre-order. What we need right now isn't some untested newcomer's experiment — it's a work that will hold our ranking for certain, don't you think?"

"If the pre-orders alone are already ten thousand, a first print of fifty thousand shouldn't be a stretch."

This time the dwarf Bron leaned his whole weight toward Carsen's manuscript, no hesitation in it.

"Editorial Department 3 will yield our promotional pages to this one as well."

"I-if I had to pick the safer option… I believe Editor-in-Chief Carsen's opinion is the correct one."

The human Rowen flicked a glance toward Carsen and let the end of the sentence trail away.

"I knew Editor Rowen and I would see eye to eye."

Carsen smiled and recrossed her legs the other way.

Ngh—

Rowen's ears had gone scarlet.

Only one editorial team remained: Editorial Department 4, run by the demon Seria. She was filling the blank spaces on both works' proposal sheets with projected profits and losses.

"Couldn't we simply publish both titles together?"

"Miss Seria. The promotional budget is limited."

"So what you're saying is we drop Mugeon — the author Editorial Department 1 is backing?"

"Oh my, I'm not saying we should drop it."

Carsen's eyes curved as she smiled. It was the kind of smile that melted a person's wariness before they even knew they should be wary.

"I'm simply suggesting we start with a small run and see how the readers respond. Wouldn't that be safer for this author as well?"

She produced a single document she had prepared in advance.

A first-print publication plan.

"Three thousand."

Aurelis read the number written on the document in a low voice.

"Please don't take it to heart. Even that isn't a small quantity to give a newcomer."

"Three thousand copies — from Centennial Library, which has branches across the entire continent?"

"We can simply sell them first to the readers who come looking for it. If it's truly as special as you say, Editor, three thousand copies should be more than enough to start word of mouth, shouldn't it?"

They both knew that was a lie. Divide three thousand copies among the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠library's branches and each location would receive barely a handful. There would be no prominent display. Most readers would never even learn the book had been published.

Once the sales figures bent downward, they would keep bending, and they would never bend back. The outcome was already decided. This was not a way of killing a work. It was a way of killing its chance. No matter how good a story was, without readers to find it, it would be buried.

"And after we print three thousand?"

"If the response is good, we'll reprint immediately. I'll even stake my name on it — Carsen of the Ravien Fox Beastkin."

"And you think readers will wait that long?"

"If it's truly a good work, they'll wait, won't they?"

To the very end, it was the work's fault. Readers were expected to find it without any promotion. It was expected to sell itself even with a meager print run. A good work was one that succeeded without being given a chance. Fail that test, and it was the editor's eye that had been wrong.

Aurelis, Editor-in-Chief of Editorial Department 1, stared at the number three thousand for a long time.

Mugeon was in another world. He had written eight chapters in a single day and sent them to her, so that his story could reach readers in a world that was not his own. And the first answer Centennial Library was prepared to give that author was three thousand copies.

"Very well."

Carsen's eyes narrowed.

"…What?"

"Three thousand copies."

The Editor-in-Chief drew the proposal toward herself.

"We'll do it that way."

This time it was not only Carsen. The other editors-in-chief looked at her as well. This was the same woman who, a moment ago, had been arguing how absurd a number three thousand was. And she had yielded far too easily.

"How unexpected."

Carsen was the first to smile.

"Just a moment ago you were saying it wasn't enough."

"It isn't enough."

"And you're accepting it anyway?"

"There's no point in continuing to argue over a print run I have no power to increase."

Carsen's smile deepened, and her snow-white tails swayed, slow and languid.

"A wise decision."

Aurelis did not bother to answer. Instead she lowered her gaze to the other items on the proposal.

In short, the terms were these.

Anyone could see they were unfavorable. This was not something Centennial Library could salvage. No — even if Editorial Department 1 of the publishing house currently running away with first place on the rankings by an overwhelming margin took it on, they could not save it. No one could.

Which was precisely why Aurelis liked it.

Dragons do not fight losing battles. And this was not a losing battle.

The cunning fox ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Carsen believed she had already won. The other editors-in-chief almost certainly believed the same. All they had seen were the chapters themselves, with no power attached to them at all.

The Editor-in-Chief thought of the manuscript that had arrived. She had read it through the night. Once. It had not been enough, so she started from the beginning again. And then once more after that. On the second reading, a faint faith had taken root. On the third, certainty.

This work will sell. A lot. No — more than Centennial Library can handle.

Which meant the print run was not the problem. How many copies they printed at the start ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠did not matter. When three thousand sold out, they would reprint. When the reprint sold out, they would reprint more. Books could be increased.

But credit, once divided, was almost impossible to reclaim. The moment the work succeeded, people would cling to it. They had given a little promotional space, so of course it was their achievement. They had added budget at the reprint stage, so of course their team had contributed too. They had opened the distribution network. They had put it on the shelves. They had helped it sell. Under ordinary circumstances, that was how the spoons piled into the pot, one after another. Given enough time, the success of a single work quietly became the success of everyone at Centennial Library.

She did not want that.

Dragons were not a race that shared its treasure. And among them, she was of the Golden Dragon clan — the lineage that hated another name being carved into its hoard more than any other dragons alive.

She recalibrated the deliberately rough manner of speech she had been using.

"However… I have conditions."

Whether she noticed the shift or not, Carsen blinked.

"Conditions?"

"The first print will be three thousand copies, as proposed. I will not ask for a promotional budget either."

"Lovely."

"Reprints will also be handled solely by Editorial Department 1."

Carsen's tail flicked once.

"If that's all—"

"And."

Aurelis cut her off.

"Every result this work produces will be recorded as Editorial Department 1's exclusive achievement."

Carsen's smile stopped.

"…Every result?"

"Sales. Reprints. New reader acquisition. Contribution to the library ranking. Every subsequent achievement derived from this work."

Aurelis tapped the proposal with one finger.

"No other editorial department may claim joint credit under any pretext."

This time Bron cut in.

"Hold on. Distribution and display are handled by the library as a whole—"

"Which is why Editorial Department 1 will handle those as well."

"Truly nothing at all?"

"We don't need it."

The answer was short. Bron shut his mouth.

The demon Seria looked up from the proposal for the first time. Only the fox Carsen was still smiling.

"And in exchange, if it fails, Editorial Department 1 bears sole responsibility as well, I take it?"

The words she had been waiting for.

"Of course."

Aurelis did not hesitate. Carsen's eyes narrowed.

If it failed, every scrap of blame fell on Editorial Department 1. If it succeeded, every scrap of credit belonged to Editorial Department 1 as well. On the surface, it was fair. But if you believed the odds of success were vanishingly low, the story changed. It was a condition that put a noose around Editorial Department 1's own neck.

Carsen's tails swayed, slow and thoughtful. Once ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this was over, Editorial Department 2 could become Editorial Department 1.

"All right."

"Then let's officially enter the conversation we just had into the meeting minutes."

"…Do we really need to go that far?"

"We do."

"It's a promise between editors-in-chief."

"Because words are forgotten."

She lifted her teacup, took a light sip, and set it down. In that instant, the pupils of the dragon Aurelis slit apart.

Carsen's eyes curved.

"Fine."

She turned to the clerk responsible for the record.

"Write all of it down."

The nib of the pen raced across the paper. Scratch. Scratch. Listening to that sound, Aurelis leaned back against her chair.

Done.

A first print at the absolute minimum. No promotion. No additional support from the library. Anyone looking on would say she was the one who had been backed into a corner. Carsen would think so. Bron would think so. Seria would think so. The human Rowen would think so.

Aurelis looked across the table. Rowen was glancing between the meeting minutes and her face, his head tilted, wearing the expression of a man who simply could not understand how this duel had been allowed to take shape. Why she had accepted such unfavorable terms. Why she had even sealed off her own retreat for the sake of a single newcomer.

Aurelis had no intention of explaining that confusion. There was no point trying to explain it to anyone who had not read the eight chapters that had arrived yesterday.

Behind her chair, where no one could see, a dragon's tail swayed, slow and unhurried.

Dragons do not fight losing battles.