Chapter 34
“Ms. Lisette’s *Caged Little Bird* is a dialogue-heavy play, but it was wonderfully executed. I hear she’s also an actress, and her stage experience really shines through in the writing. The heroine is trapped in the confines of a strict noble family, only to be rescued by a knight who falls in love with her. But rather than a fiery romance, it plays out more like a brilliant escape drama. I was caught off guard by the twist—that she was actually a ghost all along. In the end, the knight watches her disappear into the night sky without a trace of sorrow, saying, ‘I’m glad I was able to love her.’ The lingering emotion and the space it leaves for the audience to imagine their futures were especially impressive. As entertainment, I’d say it’s a highly polished piece.”
Lisette offered a gentle smile. Josée smiled back, just as softly.
“That concludes my review. Based on that, I’d like to open the floor for discussion.”
“Discussion?” Josée murmured, a bit wary.
Barnabé raised his hand.
“Don’t you think *Caged Little Bird* leans a bit too heavily into girls’ literature? Isn’t it out of place in a literary salon?”
Josée bit her tongue to keep from blurting, *What would an old man know?* But before she could say anything, Count Phil—the host—raised his hand.
“Yes, Count Phil. Please go ahead.”
“This salon doesn’t restrict itself to specific genres. The only theme for the doujinshi submissions was ‘freedom.’ We’re not here to debate categories. Please participate with that in mind.”
Barnabé fell silent, unable to argue further. Then Raymond chimed in, raising his hand.
“I get what he’s trying to say. The ghost twist felt a little too straightforward. Calling it a ‘highly polished’ piece might be giving it too much credit.”
At that, Brian, an editor, raised his hand and cleared his throat.
“Ahem. Speaking from a publishing standpoint, *Caged Little Bird* is very marketable. Its simplicity is actually one of its strengths—in other words, it’s easy for readers to understand. Clarity is crucial if you’re aiming for commercial success. Please keep in mind that readers who actively seek out obscure or abstract works are extremely rare.”
Everyone grimaced at that, shooting daggers at Brian with their eyes. Josée felt a sudden chill crawl down her spine.
Florent let out a dismissive snort.
“And that’s exactly why the publishing industry is in decline.”
Surprisingly, most of the room nodded in agreement. Josée, just a humble reader, felt a bit out of her depth.
“I used to work in publishing too, you know,” Florent added. “I’ve seen firsthand how reader quality has dropped. Publishers are obsessed with bestsellers and simple content, ignoring literary merit. That’s why they’re losing readers.”
A smattering of applause broke out. Brian, unfazed, responded with a calm expression.
“You’re talking about a decline in readership, but Pendry Publishing’s overall revenue is actually on the rise. As for your comment about reader quality—are you implying that your own books stopped selling because your readers got worse?”
That shut Florent up. Brian continued, his tone even.
“The readership evolves with the times. The old pass away, and children grow into adults—audiences are always changing. Rather than saying the readership has declined, it’s more accurate to say it has shifted. And when it shifts, the question becomes: how do we reach that new audience? Fortunately, we’ve built up a sizable database of reader data. I believe we can use that to find the answer together.”
*Oh?* Josée thought. If Pendry had that kind of data, it would certainly be more reliable than any intel Florent had been selling...
Arsène suddenly leaned forward.
“Eh!? Would you be willing to share that information with us too?”
Brian replied without hesitation.
“Of course. Editors can’t create the works themselves, but we can provide insights—what genres are selling, how reader demographics are changing. As a publisher, we want successful authors to thrive. If it’s information you’re after, we’d be happy to share as much as you need.”
Arsène, who had just paid Florent for similar intel, slumped in defeat. Brian noticed the reaction and seemed to connect the dots but gave nothing away, keeping things strictly professional.
Lisette turned to Josée with a twinkle in her eye.
“Hey, Josée! That was a goldmine of a tip. You’ve got to invite that editor to the brothel!”
“Whaaat? You say it like I should ask him right this second!”
“Oh, I know! Maybe when Madame Mélias comes for her interview...!”
Writers really were always desperate for information. Maybe that’s why literary salons existed in the first place. Then Josée realized something—there was a strange tension hanging over the salon.
These aspiring writers loved publishing, yet resented novels and the industry itself—
Florent in particular looked like he’d swallowed a lemon, his face red with frustration. He had come today hoping to cash in on his intel, only to be completely upstaged by a single comment from Brian. As a professional writer, being dismissed like that must have been devastating.
When the discussion segment ended, a crowd immediately formed around Brian. Meanwhile, Josée and her group were invited over to Mélias for tea.
Florent sat alone in the corner, flipping through a doujinshi with a sour look.
“Everyone’s so intense… Literary salons are like dens of beasts.”
Josée spoke her mind without thinking, and both Mélias and Lisette burst out laughing.
“You were surprised, weren’t you? Writers are all hot-blooded.”
“They're constantly fighting for their lives. Their work *is* their life. They truly believe that reading is a matter of life and death.”
“People often say, ‘That’s why women—’ but honestly, you have to enjoy creating in the first place. Otherwise, your work won’t reach those readers who are looking to enjoy it too.”
“Madame Mélias, that’s beautifully said!”
The women chuckled together, nibbling on sweet pastries.
“Oh, right,” Mélias said, setting her cup down. “I was just speaking with Brian. Would it be alright if I dropped by around noon on the 18th? I’d like to request an interview.”
Josée nodded without hesitation. “Yes, that should be fine.”
“Would you mind showing me around the brothel’s interior as well?”
“Of course!”
Lisette listened in with glittering eyes.
And then—
“That concludes our literary salon. The theme for the next round of doujinshi is ‘Mystery.’ Also, we have commemorative gifts—please take one home.”
Count Phil had prepared a trendy gift: hand-rolled cigarettes. Lisette, a habitual chain-smoker, cradled the cigarettes—elegantly packed in an oriental-style wicker box—with visible affection.
“Hehe. That was so much fun!”
As they left the mansion and climbed into the carriage, Josée sighed in admiration.
“Count Phil is so generous. He prints amateur doujinshi out of his own pocket *and* hands out souvenirs…”
“I hear he’s making a killing in the tobacco processing business lately. Maybe he’ll become my patron once I make it big as a playwright?”
“There you go again, Lisette… Don’t think you can seduce your way to everything, alright?”
Laughing, the two of them headed back to the brothel.