Chapter 148 Kitahara Iwa's Decision

Two o'clock in the morning.

The CWA headquarters building is located on a quiet street in central London.

During the day, this Georgian-style brick building looks particularly respectable, with its brass nameplate polished to a shine and its ivy meticulously trimmed.

But in the midst of tonight's storm, the entire building was pitch black, except for the warm yellow light shining from the window of Chairman Colin's office on the third floor.

Colin leaned back in his office chair, listening to the howling wind and rain outside the window.

The three consecutive phone calls that just came in confirmed his deduction.

The most astute radars in London's publishing industry have now locked onto the eye of this storm.

In the dimly lit corridor on the third floor, James Walton, who had arrived first, had just stepped out of the stairwell when he bumped into another figure hurrying along.

It was Margaret Hughes.

This usually meticulous "Iron Lady" looked rather disheveled at this moment.

Her black trench coat, which she always wore impeccably, was now unbuttoned on the left, a full button higher than on the right. Her hair was soaked, with water dripping from the ends.

The two met in the corridor, their hurried steps halting simultaneously.

Good evening, James.

Upon recognizing the person, Margaret quickly concealed the surprise in her eyes and replaced it with an impeccable British fake smile, saying, "What a terrible rainy night. I just happened to be passing by and remembered that I needed to check some routine documents about the annual awards with Colin, so I came up here."

"And you? Why aren't you at home drinking your whiskey? What are you doing here so late?"

James wiped the rain off his face.

His expensive cashmere coat was soaked with water, dripping down the hem, but he still managed to maintain his usual elegant demeanor, smiling as he replied, "Me too, Margaret."

"HarperCollins recently has a sponsorship payment that needs to be confirmed with the CWA in person. I'm a decisive person and don't want to wait until tomorrow morning."

"However, Faber Publishing's attention to the annual awards is truly admirable; even the editor-in-chief personally made the trip in the early hours of a rainy day."

Margaret narrowed her eyes slightly and launched a sharp retort: ​​"It's still not as financially powerful as HarperCollins."

"However, James, Chairman Colin probably won't be able to handle the sponsorship matter tonight. He sounded very tired on the phone just now. Why don't you come again tomorrow morning?"

James retorted with a forced smile, "That's none of your concern."

"I guess Colin would rather not deal with any tedious selection documents in the middle of the night. Ladies first, but tonight is an exception, I'm in a hurry."

Both of them knew that the other was telling a lie that even a three-year-old couldn't believe.

In this torrential rain at 2 a.m., who would come here for a so-called routine reconciliation?

Just as the two were testing each other with words, trying to discourage the other, the elevator door at the end of the corridor opened with a "ding".

The two instinctively looked in the direction of the voice, and the moment they saw who it was, their tense, hypocritical exchange abruptly stopped. Words caught in their throats, and they both froze on the spot.

They never imagined that the head of Penguin Random would appear in the CWA building in this state at dawn.

At that moment, Robert Finley, carrying a briefcase with the zipper not fully closed, hurriedly stepped out of the elevator.

The hem of his exquisitely tailored, expensive trench coat revealed the crotch of his pajama bottoms without any attempt to conceal them.

Robert, who was heading straight for Colin's office, suddenly stopped in his tracks when he looked up and saw his two biggest competitors standing in the corridor.

Then a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, and his gaze swept back and forth between James and Margaret before his brows furrowed instantly.

Everyone here is a seasoned fox, and when they bump into each other at this particular moment, alarm bells go off in Robert's head instantly.

"James, Margaret."

Robert broke the ice first, striding forward with a sharp, scrutinizing gaze: "Two in the morning... what are you two doing here?"

James frowned, glanced at Robert's exposed pajama bottoms, and tried to maintain his usual elegance, saying, "What a coincidence, Robert. HarperCollins has a sponsorship payment that needs to be confirmed with the CWA in person. I'm always a decisive person and don't want to drag it out until dawn."

"But you, your outfit is quite unique..."

"I'm here to check the routine documents for the annual selection with Colin."

Margaret quickly picked up the conversation, calmly offering the excuse she had already prepared.

After hearing these two lies that wouldn't even fool a three-year-old, Robert let out an undisguised snort, tearing away the facade.

"Stop with that nauseating diplomatic rhetoric, you two."

Robert's gaze swept over them like a knife. "Sponsorship funds? Selection documents? Do you think I'm new to London?"

James tried to maintain a semblance of civility by speaking up: "Robert, what do you mean by this...?"

Save your breath, James.

Robert interrupted him, his gaze sweeping over his two strongest competitors, and said with certainty, "There are no outsiders here, and there's no need to play dumb."

"Since everyone is standing in this corridor like drowned rats at two in the morning, it proves that we have all read Kitahara Iwao's new book tonight."

Robert looked at the two of them and laid his cards on the table without any hesitation, saying, "Since we're both here for Kitahara Iwa, now that we've run into each other, let's see who has the best skills."

After he finished speaking, a brief silence fell over the corridor.

The next second, Margaret dropped her perfunctory fake smile, and James also lost his feigned composure.

The three men stood outside Colin's office and exchanged glances.

They all had a crystal-clear understanding: "Never Let Me Go" was not just a bestselling book that could make money; it meant a voice in the English-language literary publishing world for the next decade.

Now that all the cards have been played, the next competition is simply about who can write a more generous check and who can offer more favorable royalty terms.

Robert wasted no more time and pushed open the wooden door in front of him first.

The action of pushing open the door was somewhat urgent, but it also maintained a restraint that prevented him from losing his composure.

Colin sat behind his large desk, watching the three usually aloof publishing giants file in through the door.

A few days ago, when CWA was besieged by conservatives, these three publishers tacitly withdrew their investment to cut their losses and distanced themselves from him without hesitation.

And tonight, they stood before him again, battered and disheveled, in the cold rain, all because of Kitahara Iwa's manuscript.

That's actually kind of funny.

However, Colin didn't mock their idea. Instead, he said, "Gentlemen, it's raining heavily outside. There are dry towels by the door. Come in and dry off."

The three people walked into the office.

Colin's secretary brought in dry towels and hot tea, then tactfully withdrew and closed the door.

Robert grabbed the towel and hastily wiped the rain off his face. Without even sitting down, he threw his briefcase onto the desk.

He then pulled out a price list that was obviously hastily scribbled on hotel notepads in the car.

"Colin, I'm not going to mince words. Penguin Random House wants the exclusive UK first edition rights to Kitahara Iwao's new book."

He stared into Colin's eyes and tossed out his chip: "Advance payment..."

The number Robert announced made Margaret and James, who were standing next to him, twitch at the same time.

"The royalty rate is 18%. This far exceeds the industry's top standard."

"We have zero interference with editing; we won't even touch a single punctuation mark."

Publication cycle...

Robert, his hands gripping the table, exuded an air of authority as he said, "From signing to being on the shelves of bookstores nationwide, it only took six weeks."

No sooner had Robert finished speaking than Margaret said impatiently, "Colin, Faber's offer is higher."

She handed over a folded piece of stationery, on which a line of numbers was heavily underlined with two red lines.

"And our appetite extends beyond the UK. We can package the first-edition rights for the entire Commonwealth, including Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and South Africa."

"Also, there's zero editorial intervention. As for the publication cycle... we only need five weeks."

After hearing the two men's offers, James Walton slammed his hot tea down on the coffee table.

Then, looking at the other two, he said with the arrogance of a capitalist and the madness of a gambler, "Colin, you don't need to look at HarperCollins' offer. I'm just showing you my hand."

"No matter how high their bids are, I will add 20% to their highest offer, with no upper limit."

Silence fell over the office after he finished speaking.

The office fell into a deathly silence.

The three of them looked at each other warily.

This is no longer a regular copyright bidding process, but a zero-sum game where the winner takes all.

Everyone present knew that this wasn't about fighting over a book, but about seizing absolute control of the European publishing market for the next three years.

Colin wasn't overwhelmed by these outrageous astronomical figures. He calmly arranged the price list in front of him and then picked up the landline on the table.

The three publishing giants immediately locked their eyes on his hand.

The phone rang five or six times before it was finally answered.

"Feed? Mr. Colin?"

Kenichi Sato's voice came through the hands-free speaker.

"Mr. Sato, I'm very sorry to bother you so late. But I have three special guests in my office right now."

Colin briefly recounted the frenzied situation in English: the heads of the three major multinational publishing groups had gathered together for the first rights to "Never Let Me Go," and had driven the price up to an astonishing level.

Kenichi Sato on the other end of the phone was silent for two seconds.

Then he said, "Please wait a moment."

The four people in the office stopped talking and listened quietly to the faint sounds coming from the hands-free speaker.

The call was not disconnected.

A soft rustling sound of clothes rubbing came from the speaker, followed by slightly hurried footsteps in the corridor, which finally stopped in front of a door and were followed by two restrained knocks.

After the sound of the door hinge turning subsided, Sato lowered his voice and quickly said something in Japanese.

Immediately afterwards, another voice rang out.

With a slightly hoarse voice from being interrupted from sleep in the middle of the night, her tone was very steady, and she simply replied with a few short Japanese syllables.

Although Colin couldn't understand Japanese, he could guess from the flat tone of the language that it sounded like Kitahara Iwa was asking what had happened.

Kenichi Sato continued to relay the frenzied bidding process taking place in the office in rapidly changing Japanese.

After the message was relayed, there was silence on the other end of the phone.

There was a silence of about ten seconds.

The three publishing tycoons, who usually wield immense power at the negotiating table, were now staring silently at the landline on the table.

They all knew very well that a young man just waking up from his sleep, a few streets away, was about to decide with a single sentence who would win the most important ace in the European literary market for the next few years, thus completely disrupting the existing publishing landscape in London.

Finally, Kenichi Sato's voice rang out again, switching back to English.

"Mr. Colin, Mr. Kitahara has finished listening."

"He means..."

As Kenichi Sato spoke, three pairs of bloodshot eyes in the office stared intently at the landline.

"He doesn't intend to choose any of you."

As Kenichi Sato finished speaking, Robert's jaw tightened abruptly, Margaret's fingers froze in mid-air, and James nearly knocked over the teacup beside him.

"He offered a completely new solution."

Before the three could speak, Kenichi Sato continued, "Teacher Kitahara said that he doesn't need the three publishing houses to compete with each other."

"He is willing to grant the UK first edition rights of 'Never Let Me Go' to all three of you at the same time."

The three people were struck dumb, frozen in place.

In the British publishing industry, and indeed in the English-speaking world, the first edition distribution rights have always been exclusive.

Granting the first copyright of a work to three competitors simultaneously is a complete violation of a century-old business rule.

"This is utterly absurd!"

Robert was the first to react, his arrogance as an industry leader instinctively leading him to refuse: "Penguin Random House never shares first rights with anyone! A great book must have a unique crown; this is an inviolable industry rule!"

"We're standing here with the most generous check in all of Europe to buy a unique trump card, not to buy a shared ticket."

James's face darkened, his tone revealing his displeasure at being offended by an outsider: "Mr. Sato, please tell Mr. Kitahara that he can choose any of the three of us to make an offer, but it is absolutely impossible for him to authorize us at the same time."

Margaret, recovering from her shock, instinctively weighed the drawbacks and added coldly, "This doesn't conform to any known market logic at all."

"If three companies are authorized at the same time, the target audience for the same set will be severely fragmented, and the profit margin of each company will be greatly compressed."

"No established publishing house in London would agree to this kind of charity deal."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone after the words were spoken.

Then Kenichi Sato continued to convey Kitahara Iwa's meaning.

"Teacher Kitahara said that he understands everyone's concerns."

"But if the three giants in London insist on sticking to the so-called rules, he will hang up now and go find other publishers on the continent who are willing to break the rules."

"Perhaps our French or German counterparts would be more decisive."

Upon hearing this, the expressions on the faces of the three financial tycoons froze simultaneously.

Find someone else?

If this masterpiece, destined to go down in history, is indeed signed by competitors from other countries, their pathetic appearance as they frantically run through the rain tonight will become a laughing stock in the industry.

The protests that had just begun in the office were instantly silenced.

No one dares to gamble on "industry rules" anymore.

Just as the atmosphere reached a stalemate, Kenichi Sato's voice came through the speakerphone again.

This time, he offered a bargaining chip: "However, Mr. Kitahara understands everyone's concerns about the shrinking profit margins. Therefore, he is willing to make concessions on royalties."

Sato Ken paused for a moment, then calmly announced a figure: "Fifteen percent. It doesn't need the eighteen percent you just shouted out, nor does it need an unlimited bidding war. He only needs his standard royalties."

When the number was announced, Robert, Margaret, and James were all stunned.

Three top-notch business minds, skilled in calculation, immediately began operating at high speed.

Although the exclusive market share was forcibly cut into one-third, the profit margin per book was instantly increased by the 15% royalty rate, which could even be considered "low".

After all, considering the quality of "Don't Let Me Go" and Kitahara Iwa's strength, 15% is indeed a bargain.

They knew better than anyone else that with the terrifying quality of "Never Let Me Go," which was enough to dominate the charts for the next decade, if they really let the three companies fight it out to the bitter end, the final exclusive contract royalties would definitely be driven to a terrifying ceiling that would exhaust all the publisher's profits.

Now, Kitahara Iwa has proactively pressed the button to stop the bidding.

This is tantamount to eliminating the risk of them bleeding each other dry, and directly feeding the three of them a huge cake that is guaranteed to make a profit.

In pure business logic, nothing is more tempting than the condition of "reducing costs and guaranteeing huge profits".

More importantly, this is "Never Let Me Go".

Once the license is obtained, even capturing just one-third of the market will bring enough reputation and long-tail revenue for any publishing house to make a fortune.

For businessmen, there are no eternal rules, only eternal interests.

This is an absolutely worthwhile deal.

Robert narrowed his eyes slightly and turned to look at his two mortal enemies beside him. Gone was the tense atmosphere from before; faced with tangible compensation, these three adversaries unexpectedly reached a consensus.

Robert nodded slowly, and then Margaret and James nodded in unison.

"Since Mr. Kitahara has shown such sincerity..."

Robert cleared his throat and, adopting a businessman's demeanor, said, "If it's this royalty rate, Penguin Random House is willing to break with precedent and accept a joint release model."

"Faber had no objection either."

Margaret stated her position decisively.

"HarperCollins is ready to jointly draft a contract at any time."

James chimed in.

Seeing these three tycoons bow their heads to profits and compromise on the joint licensing model, Kenichi Sato on the other end of the phone did not breathe a sigh of relief.

Instead, he continued, "Now that everyone has accepted the licensing model, the important part is coming up. Professor Kitahara doesn't care about that small difference in royalties at all."

"He only has one real condition."

The atmosphere in the office, which had seemed to have been settled, froze again.

The three of them held their breath in unison.

"The three publishers do not need to go through cumbersome negotiation processes, nor do they need to haggle over publicity details."

"Teacher Kitahara requests that all three of your printing plants and distribution channels immediately begin joint operations. From this moment on, within four days..."

"This book must be displayed in the most prominent window of every major bookstore in the UK."

"That's impossible!"

The usually composed Robert was the first to break down. He slammed his hands on the desk, his voice instantly rising: "Four days? That's not even enough to complete the first and second readings just for typesetting and proofreading! This isn't about money; it's physically impossible!"

James's face darkened, his tone revealing his displeasure at being offended by an outsider: "Mr. Sato, please convey our respect to Professor Kitahara, but the publishing industry has its own objective laws that must be followed."

"Even with expedited printing, it takes time for logistics to distribute the product across the UK network. This unreasonable timeliness requirement is something that no one in Europe could meet."

Margaret didn't speak, but her furrowed brows clearly indicated that she agreed with the other two's protests.

This is utter nonsense.

However, there was no room for negotiation on the other end of the phone.

Kenichi Sato maintained the politeness typical of the workplace, but every word he spoke conveyed a firm, businesslike attitude: "Professor Kitahara said that if the three giants that occupy half of the British publishing industry don't even have this much operational capacity, then he doesn't mind looking for other more efficient printing plants."

"If you can do it, then authorize it. If you can't, then find someone more capable."

There was complete silence on the other end of the phone.

A long silence fell over the office.

Robert was about to retort with a cold laugh, "You can't go to anyone," but he suddenly stopped himself from saying it.

He turned his head, glanced at Margaret on his left, and then at James on his right.

Three giants who have each controlled a third of the British publishing industry over the past two decades now stand facing each other in the CWA chairman's office.

From their bewildered glances, they seemed to realize something at the same time.

A frantic countdown loomed before everyone: four days.

In the traditional publishing process, even with all the smooth sailing, it takes at least two to three months for a novel to go from final draft to shelf.

Kitahara Iwa's requirement was to complete typesetting, proofreading, printing, binding, logistics distribution, and terminal distribution within three days.

This is absolutely wishful thinking for any single publishing house to do it alone.

But... what if these three companies stopped creating barriers between each other and instead merged completely?

Robert was the first to break the silence.

The CEO of Penguin Random House rested his hands on the table, stared at the other two, and said softly, "If it were just one company, covering the entire UK in three days would indeed be a pipe dream. But if the three of us break down the barriers..."

Meeting Margaret and James's inquiring gazes, Robert methodically laid out his plan: "Margaret, your Faber has the most efficient literary editing team and a zero-error typesetting system in all of London. You will be in charge of the initial text finalization."

"As soon as the proof is ready, I immediately switch to Penguin Random's heavy printing plant. I will shut down all other operations in the plant and work around the clock."

Robert then turned to his right and said, "James, your HarperCollins controls the most extensive network of physical terminals that reaches all of Britain."

"There's no need to wait for all the binding to be completed. As soon as the printing press produces the first batch of books, we load them directly onto your logistics trucks and ship them to various regions overnight. We've eliminated all intermediate warehousing links, connecting the factory directly to the end consumer—printing and shipping simultaneously!"

Robert's gaze swept across the two men's faces, and he said confidently, "As long as our three core resources are seamlessly integrated, we can cover the entire UK within four days!"

After hearing this crazy yet meticulous resource reorganization plan, Margaret quickly mentally calculated the time difference for the scheduling, then nodded slightly and said deftly, "As long as the handover goes smoothly, the editing and layout teams can handle it."

James slammed his empty teacup down on the table with a loud thud.

After weighing the pros and cons, a decisive glint flashed in his eyes as he said, "HarperCollins' logistics channels are all on the green light. Let's do it."

Upon hearing their statements, Robert didn't waste any words; he simply nodded vigorously.

Then, he subconsciously looked up at the clock on the wall, as if the four-day countdown was already ticking before his eyes.

Robert then took a deep breath and said, "Mr. Sato, please pass on this to Mr. Kitahara."

"Conditions accepted. Starting now, within four days, his works will be displayed in the windows of every major bookstore in the UK."