Chapter 13 – Cliffhanger (2)

Once on the brink of failure, "Richard Bentley and Son" is now one of the oldest publishing houses in London.

Charles Dickens, Thomas Moore, Jane Austen, William Wilkie Collins...

And now, even Hanslow Jin.

Countless popular authors have serialized their novels in their magazines, and continue to do so.

This history was deeply embedded in the third-generation Bentley, Richard Bentley Jr., who, though still the vice president, was practically the president and editor-in-chief.

"Alright! Everyone, calm down."

As Bentley clapped his hands and spoke, the staff reluctantly followed his lead.

This is the power of an employer who pays your salary.

Of course, if their lives were truly in danger, even the power of the employer would be overridden by survival instincts.

Sensing this, Bentley pretended to be calm and said with a smile,

"Don't worry. All the important manuscripts have been moved to the warehouse or printing house, and we've already called Scotland Yard, haven't we?"

Just as Hanslow Jin suggested.

He thought to himself, recalling the events of a few months ago when this month's manuscript had arrived.

─Mr. Bentley, I'd like to conduct an experiment before publishing the third volume.

─An experiment? What kind of experiment?

─Oh, nothing much... Just to see how popular I am, maybe?

From his perspective, it seemed meaningless, but it was a very intriguing statement. The subsequent hint to 'set aside the manuscripts in advance' was even more so.

So Bentley had to resent his past self for not listening more closely back then.

'I never imagined... there would actually be a riot.'

No matter what, these weren't uneducated barbarians or barely civilized lower-class workers, but the citizens of London, the world's greatest city. Bentley couldn't comprehend why they would do something so barbaric.

Nevertheless, he had infinite trust in Hanslow Jin, and thus followed his advice to set aside the manuscripts.

─If a real riot does happen... wouldn't it be an opportunity for a grand adventure?

A grand adventure.

Bentley swallowed hard. Given the circumstances, he had no choice. Richard Bentley Jr. decided to become a fervent disciple of Hanslow Jin and said,

"Everyone, just take care of yourselves. Your health is your wealth. If anyone needs medical expenses, I'll cover them out of my own pocket."

"Of course, we trust you, sir, but..."

The editors exchanged glances. Really? they wondered. Seeing that the atmosphere had somewhat calmed, Bentley nodded and clapped his hands again.

"Yes, yes. So stay away from the windows and just focus on not getting hurt. It's fine! Once Scotland Yard arrives, they won't be able to keep up these violent actions."

"Th-that sounds right, doesn't it?"

"Yes, considering how much tax we pay!"

Crash─!

"It'll, it'll be alright! I'm sure!!"

Everyone flinched at the sound of another window breaking, but Richard Bentley Jr. spoke nonchalantly.

After all, it was a riot during curfew hours. If the police, a law enforcement organization, didn't respond to such noises, it would be neglect of duty.

Even though, Scotland Yard was overwhelmed with work, leading to many officers collapsing from exhaustion.

Such special incidents required area officers and additional support.

In any case, the police would certainly come to resolve the situation.

And Bentley was now pretending that it was his request that brought this about.

It was just wordplay, a blatant lie, but it was effective. The staff were regaining their composure.

Bentley didn't waste this regained composure.

"Then, while we wait for Scotland Yard, how about we make a bet?"

"A bet?"

"Yes, let's predict our sales performance for next month after this incident. I'll bet it will be more than double the previous month's."

"Double?"

"Yes, whether it's less or more. Or even if sales decrease. You can bet on any outcome. If I lose, I'll add paid vacation to the payout."

Vacation.

Paid vacation, at that.

Throughout time and across the world, no office worker can resist that offer. The desire to work less and earn more is a fundamental human nature.

Richard Bentley Jr. smiled as he saw the fear in his subordinates' eyes turn to greed. Indeed, there was nothing money couldn't solve.

"So! What will it be?"

"I, I will bet on 1.5 times."

"Ho, 1.5 times. That's safe. Good! Anyone else? Ah, let's keep it in 10% increments to avoid splitting hairs!"

"I'll follow the Vice President! 200%!"

"Oh, I can't, as the Vice President, take my employees' money. So, if I win, I'll give you all of my winnings!"

"Thank you!"

"Anyone else? Boldly, bigger! Anyone with the heart of a beast to bet on three times?"

"Vice President, that's too much!"

"I'll take that bet! After all, life is all about taking big risks!"

"Good, very brave! Give that man a betting slip!"

"Yes, Vice President!"

Richard Bentley Jr. smirked and stepped back slightly. Now that he had set the ball rolling, the conversation snowball would begin to gain momentum.

The situation was not yet resolved. The rioters hadn't dispersed, and nothing had been settled.

But what did that matter? After all, this riot was like a kind of slash-and-burn agriculture. If he tried to extinguish it while it was still hot, it would only hurt Hanslow Jin and Bentley Publishing, who had started the fire.

And fire wasn't always bad.

The ashes left behind would remain in the field, providing nutrients for the next crop.

So, depending on how he used those ashes, his abilities as a publisher would be judged. Just as he thought that, Richard Bentley Jr. heard a knock on the office door.

"Yes, who is it?"

"V-Vice President!"

"It's dangerous!"

"It's alright, it's alright."

Bentley raised his hand to reassure the editors who were trying to stop him.

As expected, the people knocking were from Scotland Yard. A middle-aged detective, looking very tired from the nighttime call-out, showed his police notebook and spoke.

"We're from the London Metropolitan Police. Is Mr. George Bentley, the company president, here?"

"My father is the nominal president and is currently in Berkshire, a suburb west of London. I'm the acting vice president, so if you have any questions, please ask me."

"Understood, Mr. Bentley. Do you have any requests?"

"Requests..."

Bentley looked out the window briefly. The situation had indeed quieted down somewhat, likely due to the arrival of the police.

He then looked back at the detectives. There were enough of them, and they openly carried revolvers, likely hidden in their coats. They could surely protect at least one person.

Having reached a conclusion, Bentley nodded and spoke.

"Please provide security. I have something to say to those people."

"Mr. President?!"

Both the detective and the publishing staff looked at Bentley in surprise.

Bentley gave a reassuring smile and boldly stepped outside.

Thud, thud.

"Stay away from the building!!"

"Hey, come out!!"

"Let us talk!!"

"Be quiet! If you cross that line, we'll open fire!!"

As Bentley had expected, the situation had somewhat calmed due to the police presence.

It was inevitable. They needed to work and earn money to buy magazines. If they were arrested and lost their jobs, they wouldn't be able to buy the next issue.

Moreover, their purpose wasn't looting or assault.

Their anger stemmed from one thing.

It wasn't just the cliffhanger, but the uncertainty of when the next installment would be released.

Typically, it wasn't easy for novels to be released regularly. Sometimes, instead of monthly, it could take three to four months, even years. It was understandable.

Therefore, there was a simple way to calm them down.

'Stick to the plan.'

Bentley, holding the prepared manuscript, shouted with a stern expression.

"Everyone, the manuscript you want is here!!"

It was nighttime, and the only light source was the torches held by the rioters.

Though it was just a piece of paper with meaningless scribbles, it was enough to catch the eyes of the frenzied fans.

"T-That's it!"

"Stop!"

"One more step, and we'll fire!!"

In the midst of the rioters' greed and the police's anger, Bentley shouted proudly.

"Due to our contract with Mr. Hanslow Jin, we cannot release this to you! But we have heard your support and realized our system is lacking in satisfying the citizens of London!"

"What nonsense!"

"Shut up and give us the manuscript!!"

"So, we have decided..."

Bentley took a deep breath. And then, he declared.

"So, we have decided to start publishing a weekly magazine in addition to our monthly one! From now on, you will be able to see it once a week instead of once a month!"

"Once a week?"

"Wait, does that mean the next issue will be out next week?"

The fans' minds momentarily paused. Although weekly serialization was not uncommon, monthly serialization was the norm at that time.

Seeing a work they were used to seeing monthly on a weekly basis...

"Woohoo!"

"He's a god!"

"Hail Mr. Hanslow Jin!"

The police were bewildered. What they had thought would be a riot turned into a celebration in an instant. And why was the Metropolitan Police detective standing there, mixed in with them?

Amidst the confusion, Bentley returned to the office confidently, receiving countless handshakes filled with respect and admiration from his staff.

And the following month.

"Bentley and Son Publishing announces weekly magazine."

"The best children's novel series, now weekly!"

Bentley Publishing achieved a 350% increase in sales.

***

"So, that's what happened."

─Yes, sir.

"Good job."

─Oh, I just did as you instructed, haha!

You sound like a complete sycophant. I chuckled and nodded.

Yes, the transition to weekly serialization was actually my suggestion to Mr. Bentley.

As it was about time to publish the third volume, I felt a significant change was needed to attract more attention.

The biggest issue was the slow pace of monthly serialization.

Switching to weekly serialization would quadruple the speed. Moreover, it would attract a broader audience who couldn't resist the thrilling pace.

Struggling to draw readers without the culture of binge-reading? Then I'd do the binge-writing myself. While others released one chapter a month, I could write four chapters a month.

Of course, if there had been no demand, I wouldn't have made such a drastic shift, but hadn't the citizens of London shown that there was?

This was merely a natural market formation based on supply and demand.

"Oh, how ruthless."

"It's all for survival."

As I set the receiver down, I spoke to Mr. Miller.

This telephone had been installed by Mr. Miller shortly after he came down from London.

With Bentley becoming busier, he couldn't come down from London every time something happened, so he started a telephone line installation business in Exeter (the capital of Devon).

It wouldn't have been possible without the financial power of Mr. Miller, who acted like a football club owner.

"It'll get busier, but the sales will increase with weekly serialization. The monthly sales might decrease, though."

"Well, that's Bentley's concern."

"That's true."

"But... I'm worried about something else."

"What?"

Something else? What could that be? I wondered as Mr. Miller spoke.

"Your book isn't only being sold in the UK."

"Well... that's true."

Bentley's magazine wasn't only sold in the UK.

It was also sold in another country. Just one, though.

Across the ocean, in the United States.

A contracted American publisher regularly bought and sold them.

It was common in the Anglo-American world.

They were the same country, speaking the same language. It was natural. It felt like selling on a different platform within the same country.

"Yes, so, like the British caused a riot."

And the New Yorker, Mr. Miller, made an ominous prediction.

"Won't Americans do the same?"

"Oh..."

That's right?