“Do you really think you can teach all the commoners to read in a single night?”
Drawn in by Lulumiya’s topic, Cinderella crossed her arms, her slender legs, clad in delicate black stockings under the table, elegantly crossed as well—a posture clearly showing she was ready to listen patiently until Lulumiya finished speaking.
As long as she’s willing to listen, that’s enough.
Lulumiya thought to herself.
“Of course not. Getting all the commoners to read is something for the King, not me—I couldn’t do it even if I tried my hardest. But the Royal Capital isn’t like the outlying regions; it has a population of six hundred thousand, making it a super-sized city. The literacy rate here is certainly higher than average, which means a larger audience.”
“And even if the literacy rate isn’t enough, the people making the newspaper can intentionally lower the reading barrier—like adding illustrations to assist reading, or sending people to read the newspaper aloud in public places, such as plazas, taverns, the Adventurer Association, or barber shops. Whether it’s collecting tips from the audience or working with shop owners to let them pay to borrow the paper and attract customers, these are all feasible plans. There could also be reporters—”
Fearing Cinderella might not understand what “reporters” meant, Lulumiya paused and made a special effort to explain.
“We could hire young people who are literate but short on money, have them carry the newspaper through the streets, calling out, promoting that there are explosive and attractive stories inside. For example, ‘Why the Young Lady of Such-and-such Noble Family Stays Out All Night—The Real Reason Revealed,’ or ‘Such-and-such Workshop Lacks Magic Materials—Send Some and Earn Big,’ or ‘Strange Noises Keep Coming from Such-and-such District.’ As long as we satisfy the commoners’ curiosity and taste for gossip, we’ll have no trouble selling papers.”
Although the examples Lulumiya gave made Cinderella frown, she had to admit these headlines were deadly attractive to ordinary people. Noble scandals were always hot topics among the commoners. Once their curiosity was piqued, even those who couldn’t read would actively seek out literate people to help them.
“But since you’re selling this ‘newspaper’ to commoners, you can’t price it high. You really think you can make money with this?”
“Of course. If the commoners can’t afford to buy a newspaper, we can let them rent—pay a small fee to read at the stall for a while, or have several people chip in to buy a single paper together.”
“And besides, direct sales aren’t even the biggest source of profit. The real money comes from advertisements.”
Lulumiya spoke as if it was a matter of course; these were the footsteps of those who came before.
“Once newspapers open up the market, we can attract investors to buy ads. Help promote whose new product is out, how effective it is, whose goods are well-made, reliable, and honest. From what I know, just in the Royal Capital there are nearly a hundred magic workshops, not to mention all the small family-based carpentry and masonry workshops—the potential market is enormous.”
“And newspapers aren’t just for the commoners. Nobles can be customers too, as long as the content is practical, interesting, and timely. They’ll have their servants buy the paper and bring it home.”
This was the tide of the era.
The nobles of this world were just like the medieval European ones—ascetic in public, but wilder in private than anyone else. Just look at that lolicon Saint Son—despite his title, his tastes were utterly disgraceful.
Nobles were human too, unable to escape the lure of bizarre content. This has always been the case, from ancient times, East to West.
What’s more, Lulumiya had left out one detail: the literacy rate in a world with magic was much higher than in a non-magical world of the same era, because there was the whole group of magic chanters.
With magic chanters came the need for magic craftsmen to make magic tools. And with magic craftsmen, more suppliers arose to support their operations, together forming a new, huge social class—one that had to be literate, or else they couldn’t even read the most basic Contract for making magic tools, let alone make the tools themselves.
Add to that the inherently noble status of magic; everyone holds a hope that they might have a gift for it, so they learn to read and write just to try it out. All this means the literacy rate is higher than you’d expect.
“So, what do you think, Your Highness?”
Having said all this, Lulumiya almost wanted to lean forward with both hands on the table, but she forcibly held back, calmly asking for Cinderella’s opinion, full of confidence.
Cinderella fell into a brief silence. Only after a long while did she slowly ask,
“So, what you mean is—you want to borrow money from me and have my backing for your workshop, then pay me back when you make a profit?”
“I’m confident I can pay you back in full.”
“But I’m not,” Cinderella shook her head indifferently. “Your idea is good, but for me, that half-year promise is more important. No matter what, half a year is too short, and five thousand gold coins is too much. You won’t be able to pay it back.”
How would you know without trying? Lulumiya wanted to say that, but seeing Cinderella sitting up and ready to start reading again, her tone became a little more anxious.
“Bringing newspapers back to your homeland would increase Your Highness’s prestige in the Seran Empire—”
“F-Fourth Princess, I’m from Class 3 of the Third Year of the Dark Department…”
Before Lulumiya could finish, a woman about thirty years old cautiously approached the two of them. Lulumiya’s words were cut short, while Cinderella’s face was filled with impatience.
“I told you not to bother me again.”
“B-But the classmates…”
“Leave it with me. I’m Her Highness’s assistant.”
Lulumiya took a deep breath to calm herself, then spoke.
The woman hesitated a moment, her gaze lingering on Cinderella. After making sure Cinderella didn’t object, she handed her homework to Lulumiya, as if seeing a savior.
Once the woman left, the desk fell silent again. Lulumiya opened her mouth, wanting to continue speaking, but when she saw Cinderella immersed in making notes, she fell silent once more.
Never mind, there’s plenty of time—no need to rush.
Yet, to Lulumiya’s surprise, as Cinderella turned another page, a flat, emotionless voice rang out.
“I can lend you the money, but I have conditions.”
“What conditions?”
“After deducting costs, I want 30% of the newspaper’s profits. If you ever take it to the Seran Empire, I’ll take full control of that branch, including the profits. You’ll have no say.”
Cinderella didn’t look up, just dipped her quill in ink, her face hidden beneath her black bangs—beautiful yet unfathomable. Against her unhealthy pale skin, the writing Cinderella radiated depth and intelligence, but also a cold, dangerous air.
Compared to the all-important angel round investment, these terms were hardly harsh. She’d never planned to take the business to the Seran Empire anyway. Besides, when she brought up the idea of a newspaper, she’d meant to lure Cinderella in with the power of public opinion. If Cinderella wanted control, so be it.
As for why Cinderella changed her mind so suddenly, Lulumiya watched her perfectly calm face in secret. She hid her thoughts too well; Lulumiya couldn’t tell if it was because Cinderella saw the benefits of a newspaper, or if Lulumiya’s persistence over the past few days had worked, or both.
In the end, she still didn’t even know why Cinderella dared to lend the original owner five thousand gold coins. Trying to guess her thoughts was like fishing for the moon’s reflection in the water.
Is this what they mean when they say you can’t guess how the rich think?
Whatever the case, it didn’t stop Lulumiya from agreeing instantly.
“No problem!”
“How much do you want to borrow?”
“Two hundred gold coins.”
This was Lulumiya’s most generous budget. The printing press itself didn’t cost money—the real expenses were renting a venue, hiring printers, reporters, and paparazzi, opening newspaper stands, and early-stage promotional costs. A single gold coin could support a family of three for a month. If two hundred gold coins in starting capital couldn’t make the newspaper self-sufficient, there was no hope of paying back five thousand coins in half a year.
“Why not borrow two thousand?” Cinderella stopped writing, smiling. “The last person who came to borrow five thousand wasn’t nearly as timid as you.”
“Who knows.”
Lulumiya neither confirmed nor denied it.
“Heh.” Cinderella didn’t seem to mind. She casually tore out a blank page from her notebook, quickly scribbled a line, then used a magic Lulumiya didn’t know—pointing like a sword, she slapped the Note onto Lulumiya’s forehead like a talisman.
“Take it to Farias at the door. He’ll take you to get the money.”
Lulumiya pulled the Note off, a question mark practically popping up over her head.
“I’m only borrowing two hundred.”
“The extra gold coin is your pay for these past few days.” Cinderella said coolly. “I don’t like owing people.”
With that, Cinderella went back to her reading. After a while, she noticed Lulumiya was still there and raised her beautiful eyebrows, asking, “Why aren’t you going?”
Hugging the stack of homework, feeling quite cheerful, Lulumiya grinned. “I haven’t finished my work yet.”
Cinderella was briefly at a loss for words. “Suit yourself.”
The only sound in the air was the soft scratching of pen on paper.
Yet what left Cinderella even more speechless was that afternoon, when Lulumiya once again cheerfully sat across from her on time.
This time, Cinderella was genuinely at a loss.
“You again?”
“Your attendants can’t get in. You can’t have those students bothering you all the time.”
Lulumiya said righteously, picking up the pile of new homework at the corner of the desk to look over.
Cinderella raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. She hadn’t realized it before, but since Lulumiya started coming, she’d realized she really did need someone to handle all these trivial matters. She thought for a moment.
“From now on, just come by every few days to pick up the homework. No need to come daily. I’ll have those idiots leave the books here.”
“Are you sure that’s okay?”
“What do you think?”
“Hehe.”
Lulumiya’s lips curled up in delight.
She wasn’t here for any other reason but to show Cinderella her attitude. She’d need Cinderella as her backer in the future. With such a thick, sturdy thigh to hug, she had to make the most of it—not act too mercenary.
Only when Cinderella said those words was she truly freed from her role as a study companion.
As for dropping by every so often to collect homework—though it was tiring, the benefits far outweighed the trouble. Letting outsiders know she was working for Cinderella would bring invisible advantages much greater than they seemed.
From now on, I’d better keep coaxing Cinderella.
Lulumiya thought happily.