Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 845

Mr. Brough’s visit this time was to discuss the first month’s sales of “The Ice and Snow Romance.” Although Jenkins knew it was impossible for the book to fail, he was still taken aback by the profits he had earned.

He had originally thought that his investments in the mining business would be enough to afford him a wealthy and leisurely life. Now, he realized he was far richer than he had ever imagined.

Including the profits from his first book, his share of the first month's sales, after taxes, amounted to 3,093 gold pounds. Of course, Mr. Brough wouldn't hand over loose change, so he rounded the sum up before presenting it. And while Jenkins had recently spent 8,000 pounds on a piece of wood, the purchasing power of a gold pound was still formidable.

For anyone, 3,100 pounds was a colossal sum, especially since it was all in cash rather than tied up in fixed assets.

The book’s explosive sales were not only due to its quality and the reputation he’d built with the “Stranger's Story Collection,” but also largely thanks to the “Fabry Fraud” affair, which had played a significant role.

The benefits Jenkins had reaped from that incident were not limited to the notice of his elevation in rank from Bel Diran that he had received this morning; more importantly, he had truly become a “celebrity” of the age.

“People are eager to know you, Mr. Williams, and your book is truly magnificent. From Nolan on the western coast of the continent to the farthest eastern isles, from children just learning their alphabet to old gentlemen with failing eyesight, from young maidens to noble ladies in secluded courts, there is no one who has not heard your name...”

Whether his feelings were genuine or not, the publisher praised the book from cover to cover, which gave the author a small thrill of satisfaction. He knew, of course, that this was part of the dance of social niceties, but the feeling was undeniably pleasant.

At the same time, Mr. Brough was subtly hinting that Jenkins should start on a third book as soon as possible, but Jenkins currently had no such plans.

He said this, feigning exhaustion, though the hand stroking his cat never paused its motion.

“You see, I’ve completed two books in half a year. Even the most diligent novelist today couldn’t possibly keep up such a pace.”

“But for your readers, Mr. Williams, this past half-year has felt like an entire year.”

Mr. Brough persisted, still trying to persuade him.

“No, no, I really am exhausted.”

Jenkins held his ground, but in light of the large sum of gold pounds the publisher had just given him, he left a little room for negotiation.

“You see, my inspiration is completely spent.”

“But I heard you wrote a new script for the Silver Jasmine Opera Troupe before the Year’s End Festival. Your next book could be a detective story; readers would love it. For instance, the adventures of a middle-aged detective and his young female assistant, or a group of stern gentlemen battling evil in a city of sin, or perhaps a brilliant but eccentric detective and his live-in roommate... These are all excellent ideas.”

As things stood, as long as Jenkins held the title of “Youngest Ritter Prize Winner,” people would read whatever he wrote. Mr. Brough didn’t actually care what the subject was—even if Jenkins were to transcribe religious scriptures from the library, he would gladly print it. What he truly cared about was his partnership with Jenkins. That was the main point.

“But I’ve grown tired of writing detective stories.”

“How about a guide to cat care? I know many of your readers are young ladies, and they would adore cats.”

Chocolate’s head shot up alertly, though it was unclear whether it had understood “guide to cat care” or “many young ladies.”

“No, no, I’m actually not very good at looking after cats.”

If anyone tried to raise a pet the way Jenkins cared for Chocolate, the pet sellers would certainly make a fortune.

“A court novel, then? Or a knightly romance would also be quite good.”

“No, I think the ‘Detective Knight Biography’ is already excellent. I don’t have the confidence I could write anything better.”

Jenkins rubbed his nose. He did have some inclination to start “creating” a third book, but he was currently devoid of inspiration. It was incredibly difficult to find a theme that was both relevant to the customs of the era and suitable for the tastes of the general public.

“Perhaps you could consider a change of direction. Since you’ve already won the Ritter Prize, why not write some serious literature? The professors at the academy would pay close attention to such a work.”

“Serious literature?”

Jenkins only needed three seconds to know he didn’t have the skill for that. He patted Chocolate, quieting the cat as it sniffed around, and then inquired:

“I think I’ll stick with detective novels. The story I wrote for the opera troupe was quite interesting... What do you think of the name... Sherlock Holmes?”

Mr. Brough was overjoyed when he left, though it was hard to say whether it was because he could make another fortune off Jenkins or because their partnership would continue.

He also provided a piece of information Jenkins was unaware of: the preview phase for the Silver Jasmine Opera Troupe was officially over. The premiere would be held either late this month or early next, a few days after Jenkins’s scheduled baptism.

The publisher predicted that the audience for the premiere would surely break the Royal Opera House’s all-time attendance record, and he congratulated Jenkins in advance on the success of his script.

“Well, no matter how you look at it, I suppose I’m a successful man now.”

After Mr. Brough departed, Jenkins collected his thoughts and squeezed the thick stack of banknotes. He glanced down at the cat on his lap and asked naturally:

“This calls for a celebration. Chocolate, would you like some cake?”

Chocolate, as expected, fell for the bait. It rubbed against Jenkins’s hand in gratitude before leaping nimbly from his lap onto the carpet. Jenkins took Chocolate back to his room and placed a small cake on the desk. The cat ate with great delight, letting out a soft “meow” from time to time, likely expressing its pleasure.

As he watched the cake disappear, more than half gone, Jenkins’s hand reached out. But in the end, it merely landed gently on the cat’s back for a soft caress. He couldn’t bring himself to be cruel.

“How could I ever hurt you?”

The man murmured wistfully.

Chocolate failed to grasp the logic of his statement.

For the rest of the day, Jenkins didn't set foot outside the church. After seeing Mr. Brough off in the morning, he spent his time reading in his room. In the afternoon, he let Chocolate wander the church on its own while he went to the Secret Trace Library, located behind the Gate of All Things. Orıginal content can be found at N0veI.Fiɾe.net

The fourth floor of the library did indeed contain many new books, and Jenkins was most interested in materials concerning the end-of-epoch cataclysm and Gizmos.

But he felt his greatest discovery was actually related to Mysterious Realms. In an old, handwritten copy of a book titled “The Laws of Space,” he found some incredibly valuable information.