Net Novel

Sarat Red had never intended to make his living as a novelist.

He had stumbled upon Soul Net by pure chance, thought it might be fun to scribble out a story to kill time, and that story had simply exploded beyond anything he could have imagined.

But once his novel blew up to this degree, he couldn't help but start thinking differently.

The reactions flooding in under every single chapter said as much, too.

And honestly speaking, Sarat knew perfectly well that fixing carriage wheels was never going to make him rich.

Should I try publishing? Money's never a bad thing. But how much could I actually make off this? Quite a lot, maybe?

Sarat's heart began to tilt.

And then came the decisive blow.

Reading the message posted under the latest chapter of his own novel, Sarat made his decision.

He would quit being a carriage mechanic.

He would live off his novels!

That was the decision he reached.

But that was where the trouble began.

There were far too many publishers offering contracts.

And just as he was hesitating, utterly lost ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as to which publisher he should sign with—

The collective intelligence of Soul Net had come to Sarat's rescue.

Authors who had crawled out of the Novel Gallery were quite literally vomiting blood through their comments, firing off warnings.

Every single comment was a desperate, harrowing scream where you could smell the blood and see the ruined lives and discarded works scattered behind it.

Sarat was suddenly terrified.

Fraud? Forced to write ten-plus volumes? Lied to about royalty percentages? And what's this now — " Axed"? They buy up the rights to the entire work in exchange for one lump-sum payment? What the hell!

The publishers' methods were far too professional for a literal novice like him to handle.

Even if he pored over every line of a contract and tried to drag the terms toward clauses favorable to himself, the moment the other side started stalling and wearing him down, an individual author had no way to win.

And then there was one more, fatally dangerous detail.

In a well-policed metropolis or one of the Empire's major cities, maybe it would be different.

But after reading the warning that some backwater frontier publishers were quite literally connected to criminal organizations, Sarat felt the strength drain right out of him.

To earn revenue, I'd have to publish. But publishing could drag me into all kinds of trouble.

His head was starting to ache.

Sarat was sighing, digging through Soul Net this way and that, agonizing over which publisher might be the least terrible — when it happened.

"Ack! Wh-what the—?!"

With a cheerful chime, a notification window suddenly burst up through the Soul Net screen, and Sarat had no choice but to yelp in shock.

He had to screw his face up hard and stare for a long while at the unfamiliar window that had popped up right in front of his eyes.

"...Chat?"

After staring at the notification for a long moment, he cautiously touched the window.

At once, a white pane appeared before his eyes.

The blank white window promptly began to fill with words.

Sarat's eyes went wide.

He gazed cautiously at the chat window, then before long began inputting letters into it the same way he did on Soul Net.

An unfamiliar function he'd never seen before. But there was no mistaking it — this screen had branched out from a Soul Net window.

Who but the developer could possibly do this?

Sarat laid his suspicions to rest.

It was an unfamiliar proposition.

And he couldn't quite grasp it.

What exactly was the Black Magic Tower proposing to pay him?

Advertising? A fixed payment per view?

Frankly, the publisher concept — risky as it was — had at least been easier to understand.

Sell the novel. Give the author a cut of the proceeds. The end.

But this was advertising revenue and per-view fees and who knew what else...

Complicated.

Still, Sarat didn't agonize over it for long.

It wasn't for any lofty reason, either.

If you're going to get wrung dry anyway, side with the one who has the deeper pockets!

Publishers? At best, places that sold books.

Whereas the Black Magic Tower?

Weren't they the outfit that had led the entire Wirod Dimension's spatial transit network and dimensional travel technology for decades?

His own experience backed it up: repair a fancy carriage and a tip came your way; repair a cheap one and they'd haggle you into the ground.

And so he resolved to place his faith in Elsy Bwenner's word.

I love Korean genre fiction.

I'd been reading it since the days of the old rental shops, so you could say I'd followed it for quite a long time.

And that meant I knew exactly how publishers and rental shops had exploited writers, and how genre fiction had ultimately migrated over to the web-novel revenue model.

Which is why the idea of reviving the web novel on Soul Net was something I could have arrived at on my own, easily enough.

If you went with a rental-shop system, there were simply too many openings for publishers to mess things up.

Besides, the earning potential was plenty real.

The reason early genre fiction went with the rental-shop model wasn't because it was good — it was because there were no mobile devices, smartphones included, to read on.

In other words, it had been an unavoidable compromise.

But Soul Net was different.

From the very start, the structure let you summon a window instantly, anywhere, with nothing but an incantation.

Put another way, it was portable to the point that you could call it a system that had begun life as a smartphone.

So there was a real chance people would adapt to a web-novel system in no time at all.

The problem was that while the system held the possibility open, Soul Net's users seemed very unlikely to warm to the idea of paying for anything.

The community was still in its infancy.

Slam a paid revenue model onto them out of nowhere, and the odds were good that cancellations would pile up.

So after much agonizing, the revenue model I proposed to Sarat went like this.

"Soul Net's primary source of income is advertising."

"Is it now? Ah — come to think of it! There ARE ads floating around the edges of the windows on Soul Net, aren't there."

"Yes. And those ads command a higher rate the more users we have. Thanks to your novel, Sarat, Soul Net's user base has grown enormously. Which is to say, your novel has contributed to the Black Magic Tower's revenue growth as well."

"I suppose one could look at it that way?"

"Indeed. So here is what I'd like to propose: a contract in which we share a portion of the Black Magic Tower's advertising revenue with you for every view each of your future serialized novels receives. This is roughly the per-view payment I have in mind. Ah — and of course, if you decide to sign, we'll pay a separate signing bonus on top."

NewTube.

NewTube's ad-revenue sharing system.

Users read the novels for free, while the author takes a slice of the advertising revenue.

That way I could keep the novel serializing steadily on Soul Net to grow the user base, while also sparing the users any pressure to open their wallets.

Naturally, I had no intention of stopping there.

Flat-rate subscriptions first. Then, little by little... we shift toward per-episode purchases. But that can't be rushed.

To make users open their wallets, the ecosystem had to ripen first.

It would take time for users to adapt and accept it.

And in the meantime, I would get the magical implementation of an online payment system ready as far as possible.

And if this grand, sweeping plan of mine was going to succeed, the first and most urgent task was pinning down the mega-bestselling author standing right in front of me.

And thankfully enough—

"One hundred Balrod gold coins as a signing bonus, paid in a lump sum?! Settlements calculated by view count, once a month, separate from the signing bonus?! And at th-this rate... hold on. At this rate, applied to my current novel..."

"You'd be receiving around 50 Balrod imperial gold coins a month, steadily. There'll naturally be some fluctuation depending on how your view counts trend, of course. Write engaging chapters and your popularity rises, and you earn more; when popularity dips, you earn less. It's a very intuitive structure."

"I'll sign. Right now. Let's do it this instant!"

It seemed the mega-bestselling author had rather liked the contract terms I'd offered.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I smiled brightly and extended my hand to NoviceWriter.

No — to Sarat Red.

And there was one more condition.

"Oh, and Sarat? This is a personal favor, mind you."

"Yes. Go ahead."

"Within the bounds of not disclosing specific ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠contract details — could you write a post on Soul Net certifying what happened at the Black Magic Tower today?"

"That's not difficult, but... why?"

"To draw in the other writers."

Precedent matters.

Especially in a brand-new business, precedent matters enormously.

This was not merely a special contract with one popular author.

It was the moment that would decide whether the ecosystem could expand or not.

"Understood. Not a problem."

Sarat said the words, but the look on his face asked whether a single post could really summon other authors.

But I could be certain of one thing.

This was going to send shockwaves.

Sarat Red's post drew a downright explosive reaction.

A novelist signed with the Black Magic Tower.

There had never been a case like it.

And Sarat did exactly as Elsy Bwenner had instructed, explaining the general shape of the contract he'd signed to the fullest extent possible without revealing specific terms.

And then—

The moment the structure of the contract and the revenue model came to light, an even hotter reaction erupted.

And before long, the moment arrived: a board dedicated exclusively to serialized fiction.

Net Novel, newly created.

Established authors, rookies, and aspiring writers alike.

Everyone in the Wirod Dimension who had ever gotten ink on their hands began posting serialized stories, every last one of them.

Elsy Bwenner watched the red-hot popularity and smiled.

"What? Authors are flocking to Soul Net?"

"They're flatly refusing to sign contracts for their next works! They're our revenue stream, damn it!"

"Move! I'm going to see them myself!"

For the publishers, the fire had leapt up onto their own feet.