3 I-03

[ - CHAPTER III - We Carries A Million of Hope - ]

Huh, as expected even if they did accept, the wage is basically a slave whip. It was enough only to live through a day-to-day paycheck. And most of it was physical labor too… what would you expect, honestly.

So I went back home, not yet defeated but I chose the available path still shone for me. It might take longer and require a hefty investment for my wallet, but it should pay off in the long run.

I bought a stack of paper and some pens. I have been writing throughout my life, and I also brought a few worth journals I have written when I was with my mother back home.

And with that, almost all of my money had sunk. It's all or nothing.

Let's see, in this time, mystery and horror novels should be on the rise.

I finished the first manuscripts after a week of staying inside my room. Then wrote a proposal, send it along with the manuscripts via mail to the local Francois publisher. I just hope it would go through.

Even if the works were heavily inspired by some famous writers, as I tried to emulate their writing style to my best of ability, it won't be so easily accepted. No need to wait with bated breath, I work to the next manuscripts.

This time about the sci-fi genre. I hope the current age readers would be invigorated with the ridiculous idea is presented. As such I send it again but to different publishers. Coincidentally I received the letter for my first novel.

Color me luck, it was accepted. They were exhilarated, saying the presence of a female lead in the manuscript was quite the novelty. To be honest, I didn't care about that, since I thought a girl as the main character is fairly charming.

I met them, as there's a paper of invitation to their office. Of course, it was the same reaction I always get. They were skeptical once they've seen me, thinking it must be a joke.

So, I only presented them with the next manuscripts. Even matching my writing style to convince them.

They refused. Huh, and here I thought my speaking skill and evidence was enough to convince anybody. In the end, I left the office empty-handed.

Not surprisingly, I also got rejected by the second proposal. The novels were getting quiet a welcoming reception but I do not.

Ironic.

The third time the charm I guess, I revised the manuscripts for fault and sent both of them to another publisher. It was a small timer company located above a newspaper printing office.

This time, I didn't want to meet them face to face, stating I would rather remain unknown for the time being and communicating through mail services.

It seems they're fairly desperate as they accepted the terms, as such I sent the full manuscripts a week later. After a few days of finalizing with the editor, the two novels got published under the name of Bougainvillea.

I don't want to waste time, and counting the chicken before it hatches, as such I began to work for the next proposals. This time about things such as crossword, caricatures drawing, and strip comics, I sent them to the local newspaper printing office.

Tomorrow morning, there's still no news of the novel sales yet. I waited for a week as I mostly work for my journals, mostly about my past knowledge and plans as not to forget it.

The mails come in a week later, as expected the newspaper office accepted it. I told them, using the same method I used for the novels. It also comes along with the news for the novels.

Looks like it started to sell when a prominent figure accidentally stumbled upon it on a whim and recommended it. Though I forgot the crucial parts, where the money should go?

I quickly went outside and arranged a meeting with a broker. A rather shady man, but I heard he had quite a reputation. I wanted to open a bank account to the Waldstätte Confederacy, or basically the equivalent of Swiss in this world.

It's rather silly, some of the names are still unchanged, and yet others took a different and sometimes gibberish name.

Going back, since the Waldstätte was famous for their neutrality it should be safe to deposit all of my earnings there. The work was quickly smoothed out with the help of grease called money in which I don't have any more afterward other than some small changes enough to buy a piece of bread for tomorrow.

Incidentally, the proposals for the newspaper had passed the tomorrow morning as I began to work in earnest for the rest of the month.

Before I knew it, winter had passed into spring.