The next day after breakfast, He immediately started his plan and started writing the first book, which was named "The beginning after the end: Early Years". This novel narrative follows King Grey, a powerful and respected ruler in a world where strength dictates status. Despite his achievements, he feels a deep sense of emptiness. After an untimely death, he is reincarnated as Arthur Leywin in the magical continent of Dicathen. Retaining the memories and wisdom of his past life, Arthur embarks on a journey to correct his previous mistakes and find purpose in his new life. As he grows, he faces challenges that test his resolve and uncover deeper mysteries about his reincarnation.
Arjun immersed himself in writing. Each day, his daily task was to eat, drink, and write this A month passed, and He finally completed the first book. He then copied the manuscript and prepared it to send it to Publishing houses. After finishing everything, he looked outside as it was already night. So, he prepared dinner for himself, and after finishing everything, he got into his bed and fell asleep.
The next day, He sent a manuscript to every major publishing house in including US Random House, Simon & Schuster, Harper & Row, Macmillan, Houghton Mifflin, William Morrow & Company, G.P. Putnam's Sons. He then resumes his daily task to write the next part of this novel. Waiting for the response from publishing houses, he waited for a week. Finally, he received a letter from a publishing house, and his novel was rejected. He was dejected at first, but he comforted himself and immersed himself in writing. Every week, he received a letter of rejection. Finally a Month and a half time he finally received news from Houghton Mifflin Publishing House that his novel could be published. He was welcomed to visit their office for further discussion. He was very happy.
Meanwhile, in the office of Houghton Mifflin Publishing House, Editor-in-Chief Anne Barrett looked at the novel manuscript. She took a risk in publishing this novel, as Houghton Mifflin publishing house is declining it urgently needed a new work, but the works she received didn't catch her eye. Finally, this novel caught her eye because it's a unique idea and a new world-building novel. She took the risk to publish it because for this type of novel, it isn't easy to capture the audience. Anne Barrett sighed, "This manuscript, I like it very much, I hope everything goes well".
The next day, Arjun arrived at the Houghton Mifflin publishing house, Los Angeles Branch, and met Editor-in-Chief Anne Barrett. The office of Anne Barrett, Editor-in-Chief of Houghton Mifflin, felt like the chamber of judgment. Rows of bookshelves loomed on every wall, filled with novels that had shaped generations of American readers. Their spines whispered authority, as if reminding every new writer who walked in: This house made legends, will you be one of them, or forgotten?
Arjun Anderson sat across the wide mahogany desk, his complete novel in a neat stack before him. The title on the top page, "The Beginning After the End: Early Years," felt almost too fragile in this room of titans.
Anne Barrett was surprised to see his appearance. Although he is handsome, it is the second point, but the thing to be noted is his age. She admired him even more. She shook hands with him and said, "I am very surprised at your age, and you are so talented. Young people are truly admiring". Arjun just thanked her for her praise and said, "You are exaggerating." Then he handed her his novel, and she started reading it carefully.
Anne Barrett adjusted her glasses, finishing the last page she had been skimming. Then she set it down with careful precision, the gesture of someone who knew the weight her opinion carried.
"Arjun," she said, her tone both warm and authoritative, "your novel world-building is extraordinary. I don't say this lightly. You've built a world that is both familiar and utterly new. There's imagination here, but also philosophy. Readers will feel the magic and the ache of humanity beneath it."
Arjun felt the praise stir something deep. He clasped his hands together, nodding politely.
Anne opened a folder and slid a contract across the desk. "Here are our terms. A five-thousand-dollar advance, eight percent hardcover royalties, and six percent paperback royalties. We'll take North American and foreign rights, along with any adaptation rights for film, television, and so on. Standard for a debut. And with Houghton Mifflin behind you, this book will have the chance to reach everywhere."
He looked at her, steadying his voice. "With respect, Ms. Barrett, if the work is as extraordinary as you say, doesn't it deserve more than the standard?"
Anne smiled faintly, tilting her head. "Every new author thinks that. But publishing is a business of risk. We carry the burden of printing, marketing, and distribution. You carry only the words. And many promising debuts vanish without a trace."
Arjun let the words settle before answering. "And yet, without those words, there is nothing to sell." He tapped the manuscript gently. "You're not buying paper, Ms. Barrett. You're buying the world I created. And worlds don't come cheap."
Anne's eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in interest. Few authors dared to talk back in their first meeting. "What are you asking, then?"
"Ten percent hardcover," Arjun said firmly. "Seven percent paperback. And I retain adaptation rights of film and television, especially. This story is built for more than pages."
The silence was heavy. The rain drummed harder against the glass.
Anne leaned back, folding her hands. "Ambitious. But let me be clear, if you keep adaptation rights, we can't push Hollywood. Studios listen to houses with clout, not young authors. If we hold them, we can get your book to the right desks."
Arjun took a breath. She's right, but if I surrender those rights, I surrender the story's future. He leaned forward, voice calm but sharp. "If the book becomes a success, Hollywood will come to me regardless. They care about audiences, not contracts. And if it fails, then it doesn't matter who holds the rights."
Anne tapped her pen against the desk, studying him. "Most first-timers don't think that far ahead."
"I didn't come here to be most of the first-timers," Arjun replied. "I came here because Houghton Mifflin has the reach to turn this into something extraordinary. But reach alone doesn't justify taking everything."
Anne's lips curved into the faintest smile. "You're stubborn. I like that. But even with that, five thousand is standard."
Arjun hesitated, then played the card he had prepared. "Another house has already shown interest," he said carefully. "They hinted at ten percent royalties. I came to you first because of your reputation. But if the terms don't respect the work, I'll have to reconsider."
The air sharpened. For the first time, Anne put her pen down and truly studied him, not as a boy with a manuscript, but as someone who might know his worth.
"Suppose I believed you," she said slowly. "What would it take for you to sign today?"
Arjun felt the tension in his chest, but he steadied it. "Ten thousand advance. Ten percent hardcover, seven percent paperback. North American and foreign rights, yes. But adaptation rights stay with me."
Anne raised her eyebrows, almost amused. "You've done your homework."
"I've done my dreaming," Arjun corrected softly. "And I won't sell the dream for scraps."
For a long moment, the only sound was the ticking of the old brass clock on the shelf. Then Anne closed the contract, reached for a fresh sheet, and began writing amendments by hand.
"You drive a hard bargain for someone your age," she said. "But perhaps that's what this industry needs. Very well, Mr. Anderson. Ten thousand. Ten and seven on royalties. Rights as you specified. But remember this, your next book must prove you were worth the gamble."
Arjun's breath escaped in a rush of relief. He extended his hand. "Then we have an agreement."
Her handshake was firm, her eyes still sharp. "Welcome to Houghton Mifflin. Don't make me regret it."
As Arjun walked out of the Publishing house couldn't help but cheer; the contract was in his hand, and he felt the world shift under his feet. He had won the bet.