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Chapter 12 – Deals and Preparations
(MC POV)
Friday afternoon, the sunlight slanted lazily across the classroom windows.
Normally, I'd be winding down, thinking about my next round of training. Instead, I was standing outside Midtown High with Marinette, both of us looking way too nervous for our own good.
Harry Osborn stood a few steps ahead, phone in hand, looking casual as always. "Relax, you two," he said with a grin. "You're not about to face a firing squad. It's just a meeting."
"Easy for you to say," I muttered. "Your name opens doors. We're just… nobodies with a story."
Marinette nodded quickly. "And what if they don't like it? What if they laugh at it?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Trust me. They won't. You've got talent. And even if they don't see it right away, they'll at least listen because I'm bringing you in. That's your chance."
I exhaled slowly. "Alright. Let's do this."
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The Publisher
The office smelled faintly of ink and polished wood. Posters of past manga and novels lined the walls, and a middle-aged man in a gray suit sat across from us, glasses perched low on his nose.
"So," the publisher said, flipping through our manuscript. His eyes darted over Marinette's illustrations, then skimmed the dialogue I had typed. He didn't say much at first. Just tapped his pen against the desk.
Harry leaned back casually, as if he owned the place. "They're good, right? I told you they'd surprise you."
The man finally set the pages down. "It's… impressive. For high school students, very impressive. The art has strong emotional flow, and the writing… well, it's raw but genuine. Readers will connect with this."
Marinette's eyes lit up. Mine too, though I tried to hide it.
Then the man leaned back, folding his hands. "Normally, first-time creators would get a trial run. A single chapter in a magazine, maybe a short serialization if it does well. But since Mr. Osborn has vouched for you…"
My stomach tightened. Here it comes.
"…I'm willing to offer you a better deal. A full run—ten chapters guaranteed, with royalties higher than standard entry."
Marinette gasped softly. "Really?"
"Of course," the publisher said, smiling faintly. "Of course, you understand, the Osborn name carries weight. It'll give your work visibility. In this industry, that's half the battle."
I clenched my jaw but nodded politely. "We understand."
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Royalties Debate
Outside the office, once the contract was in our hands, the euphoria quickly gave way to something else.
"So…" I said, scanning the numbers. "They're offering more than standard. That means we need to divide the royalties fairly."
Marinette hesitated. "I mean… you wrote the story, I did the art. Shouldn't it be fifty-fifty?"
"Normally, yeah. But I also wrote the music for it. Plus, I did most of the planning—plot arcs, pacing—"
Her cheeks puffed in frustration. "And without my drawings, it would just be words on paper! No one would even look at it!"
We stood in the middle of the sidewalk, both heated in ways we hadn't expected.
Finally, I sighed. "Okay. How about this? Fifty-fifty on base royalties. But if we ever sell music rights, that part is mine."
Marinette thought for a moment, then nodded firmly. "Fine. Fifty-fifty for the manga, and music is yours. But if we ever do merchandise—like figurines or art books—that's mine."
I smirked. "Deal."
We shook hands awkwardly, both realizing how ridiculous it was to argue over money we hadn't even earned yet.
Harry, who had been watching with amused detachment, clapped his hands. "Well, glad to see you two can negotiate without killing each other."
We both glared at him.
"You know what?" Marinette said suddenly. "We should thank him."
I raised a brow. "What?"
"He got us the deal," she insisted. "We should buy him dinner."
Harry perked up. "Now that I like the sound of."
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Dinner with Harry
We ended up at a quiet Italian restaurant not far from the Osborn penthouse.
Marinette insisted on paying half the bill with her savings, even though Harry kept saying it wasn't necessary. I chipped in too, mostly to stop Harry from smirking about how "cute" we were for trying to act responsible.
Over plates of pasta and breadsticks, the conversation flowed surprisingly easily.
"So what's it really like?" Marinette asked Harry. "Being… well, you know, you."
Harry chuckled. "Lonely sometimes. Everyone assumes everything's easy when you're rich, but it's not. Friends matter more than money."
Marinette nodded thoughtfully. "I think I understand."
I studied him quietly. He was telling the truth. But behind his easy grin, I could see the faint shadow of pressure—the weight of living in Norman Osborn's shadow.
For one night, though, we kept things light.
We laughed. We ate. And when Marinette tripped on her way out of the restaurant, spilling her drink and turning scarlet, Harry and I both rushed to help, ending the evening in laughter instead of embarrassment.
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Later That Night – (MC POV)
Back home, the light mood faded as I entered my room.
On my desk lay the sketches of my AI project, half-finished. Next to it, a notebook filled with notes not of this world: diagrams of armor, enchantments, defensive runes.
The publisher deal was exciting, sure. But my true path couldn't be forgotten.
If I was going to train properly—if I was going to master the knowledge I'd hoarded—I needed opponents worthy of it. Real warriors. Fighters from the past.
But that meant stepping into danger. Battles where one mistake could kill me.
I opened a drawer, pulling out a small collection of miraculous trinkets and enchanted items I had been experimenting with.
A bracelet that could accelerate healing. A charm to resist poison. A set of layered fabrics reinforced with defensive enchantments.
Not perfect. Not invincible. But better than nothing.
I set each piece carefully on the desk, testing their weight, their glow under the lamplight.
"This isn't enough," I muttered. "If I'm going to step into the past, I need more. Stronger defenses. Redundancies. Backup plans."
The Kwamis floated nearby, silent but attentive.
Wayzz finally spoke. "You are preparing for something dangerous."
I didn't deny it. "Next Sunday. That's when I'll go. Until then, I'll finish everything I can."
Plagg snorted. "Sounds like a death wish to me."
"Maybe," I said softly. "But I can't grow without risk."
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.
A manga deal. Dinner with friends. Plans for battle in forgotten eras.
Two lives pulling me in opposite directions.
And I intended to master both.
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