“You’re not angry?”
“Angry? Why would I be angry at you?”
Sasha looked genuinely puzzled, as if he couldn’t understand why I would even ask such a thing. Feeling a little wronged, I shot back at him.
“You always talked about marriage.”
“That’s because…!”
Sasha pressed his fingers against his furrowed brow, trying to remain calm.
“That’s because you never did anything besides lazing around at home reading novels. If I had known you had thoughts like this…”
“If he had known, other noble families would’ve done everything in their power to claim her.”
Armin interjected, looking amused as he glanced between Sasha and me.
“Lord Armin, I apologize, but let’s pretend you didn’t hear this conversation. The Roha Viscounty will handle this matter on our own.”
Sasha’s tone was uncharacteristically firm. Since growing close to Armin, he had always been polite and even friendly towards him. Seeing him draw a clear line like this caught me off guard, but Armin, completely unfazed, simply crossed his legs and responded leisurely.
“Well, considering that the 500 gold you received from my father was what gave Vivi the confidence to move forward, the Grey family does have some stake in this endeavor.”
“I deeply respect the Duke, but even if it had been 5,000 gold instead of 500, if my father had heard Vivi’s idea, he would have gladly paid it.”
“And the most crucial element of this plan, as Vivi envisions it, is the novel my mother wrote.”
“…That’s true, but…”
Sasha reluctantly admitted it. Watching him, I couldn’t help but think of those business dramas from my past life, where corporate executives engaged in power struggles over mergers and acquisitions.
“You don’t think it’s a foolish idea?”
“Foolish? Listen, Vivian Roha. What you’ve come up with is truly… truly…”
That was surprising. Sasha, who was always so articulate, was actually struggling to find the words.
Armin finished the sentence for him.
“It’s a revolutionary idea.”
“All the ridiculous things you’ve done up until now… maybe they were all just an elaborate act to hide the fact that you’re a genius.”
“Ridiculous? Ugh.”
“I mean it in a good way. This is a brilliant idea. The high illiteracy rate is a national disadvantage. The amount of tax money spent on educational programs just to lower illiteracy reaches tens of thousands of gold.”
“But the biggest issue is that commoners don’t feel the need to learn to read in the first place.”
“Especially women.”
Their conversation flowed smoothly, back and forth, as if they were perfectly in sync. I sat there in a daze, just listening.
“So, you see how this idea has real value?”
“Value? It’s more than that. It’s groundbreaking. It’s the kind of idea that would never come from a politician’s mind.”
Of course, it wouldn’t. The elder statesmen of the nobility were all men. And even in the rare cases where a woman led a noble house, none of them would dare discuss novels in the aristocratic council.
What I had dismissed as nothing more than a wild fantasy was now being taken so seriously by these two that I felt a lump form in my throat.
“Have you decided on a newspaper company?”
“Huh? Um… Harold Newspaper…”
At my response, Sasha immediately shook his head.
“They’ll probably refuse. Their market share is already so high that they have no reason to take such a risky gamble.”
Surprisingly, he had the same opinion as Armin.
“Oh… I hadn’t considered any other options.”
“Other newspapers might reject it for the same reason.”
“What?”
A sudden fear gripped me. They just called my idea genius, and now they were saying no newspaper might accept it?
“If they add another page, their production costs will rise accordingly.”
“That would make them less competitive in terms of pricing compared to their rivals.”
“Oh.”
At last, I understood what Armin and Sasha were getting at.
“We can’t exceed the designated page limit for a single newspaper issue.”
The content was divided into twenty chapters. That was the maximum margin I had set. Sasha nodded in agreement.
“There are two possible approaches. The first is adding a novel section within the existing newspaper space.”
“The second is to create an entirely new page, filling it with other content besides the novel—something valuable enough that people would be willing to pay more for it.”
“What?”
I gaped at the two men in disbelief. But Armin and Sasha remained completely serious.
“I’ll give you a week.”
“Wait. You’re expecting me to come up with this?”
Ignoring my protests, Sasha turned to Armin.
“I’ll look into the cost of paper production and figure out how to reduce expenses as much as possible.”
Armin nodded.
“Good. I’ll prepare in case all three newspapers reject the proposal.”
“Prepare? How?”
At my question, Armin smiled. But it wasn’t his usual warm expression—it carried a subtle chill, like a cold breeze passing through the room.
“Don’t worry about that. Just focus on coming up with a solution over the next week.”
“Wait…! This isn’t something I can just pull out of thin air.”
“No need to stress too much.”
Armin leaned back against the sofa, completely at ease.
“If necessary, the Grey Duchy will cover all expenses.”
“What? That’s ridiculous!”
“If it’s something Vivian is passionate about, my parents would be more than willing to invest. Besides, since this is a noble cause, we could even gather funds from other aristocrats.”
“No! That’s not necessary.”
I quickly shook my head. The scariest part was that Armin wasn’t exaggerating—he was completely serious.
“It’s fine. Even without the Grey Duchy’s help, our family could simply buy out a newspaper company if needed.”
“Let’s think about it first, okay? Let’s just start small. Please?”
What was interesting about newspapers again? I started racking my brain.
Seeing my newfound determination, Armin and Sasha finally stopped trying to pressure me.
* * *
“Uh, then…”
I hesitated for a moment, trying to process what Sasha had just explained.
“If we switch to that type of wood, would it affect the quality of the paper?”
“We can’t be sure yet,” Sasha admitted. “It’s never been tested before. But if the fibers yield more paper per tree, it could significantly cut costs in the long run.”
“That’s promising,” Armin remarked, resting his chin on one hand. “Even if it’s untested, it’s worth keeping in mind as a potential future option.”
I nodded. “Alright. That’s good to know. But what about my part?”
I opened my notebook, the pages filled with ideas and notes I had spent sleepless nights putting together. Both Sasha and Armin leaned in slightly, their expressions serious.
Taking a deep breath, I began to explain the ideas I had come up with over the past week.
I glanced at Armin. He smiled before speaking.
“All three newspapers have secrets they wouldn’t want others to know. But that would be a last resort.”
That was all he said. I had no desire to force or threaten anyone into working with us either.
Now it was my turn. Why did this feel like a presentation?
I stood up, flipping through my notebook, and started introducing the ideas I had come up with one by one.
“The first idea is something for children.”
“Children?”
I nodded. It was the result of desperately digging up memories of secretly reading my father’s newspaper as a child.
I handed a sheet of paper to Armin and Sasha. Looking at the writing and drawings on it, Sasha asked with a puzzled expression.
“A hidden picture puzzle?”
“You find the hidden images within the illustration. It’s fun.”
The drawing Michelel and I had made wasn’t perfect, but Sasha studied it with genuine interest.
“Oh, I see. Here’s a teacup.”
“Yep! If we include a hidden picture puzzle every day, it could be an enjoyable pastime.”
“I like it. Leisure… Commoners don’t have many entertainment options.”
“The second idea is this.”
I handed them another sheet of paper. It was filled with neatly arranged squares—an old but essential feature in newspapers.
“A crossword puzzle.”
“Anyone who can read and write… would definitely find this entertaining.”
“This isn’t just for children; even adults would enjoy it.”
Seeing something they had never encountered before, Sasha and Armin seemed genuinely intrigued, even trying out a few of the puzzles themselves.
“But this alone won’t be enough to fill an entire newspaper page. We need more content.”
Sasha, who had quickly solved the puzzles, gave an objective assessment. He was right. These three items alone wouldn’t be enough to fill a whole page.
But I wasn’t entirely confident about my final idea.
“Vivi, is this all you’ve prepared?”
“There’s one more thing, but I don’t have anything to show for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“The last idea is something that people will fill in themselves.”
It was a concept I had agonized over endlessly. Nobles could simply have their butlers or servants deliver messages, but commoners had no real means to do so.
“The newspaper could serve as a public medium for people to share news—like announcing a wedding or a funeral on a specific date.”
