The next morning at nine, Voss was pacing back and forth in his apartment.
"Is it too early?" He glanced at the clock. "Maybe the editor hasn't even had time to read my manuscript yet?"
Tom sat on the couch, watching Voss spin in circles with a helpless look. This guy had been awake since six and had asked the same question about a hundred times.
Jerry lay sprawled on the table, chin resting on his little paws, his mood dampened by Voss's endless worrying.
"Should I go back to the publishing house?" Voss froze mid-step. "What if they forgot about me?"
Tom leapt up, blocked his path, and held up a paw like a stop sign.
"You're right, I can't be too impatient." Voss took a deep breath. "I should stay calm and believe in my work."
He paused, then muttered, "Or maybe I should send it to a few more publishers? I can't put all my hopes in one place…"
Before he could finish, a knock came at the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Voss's heart jumped into his throat. Tom and Jerry stiffened instantly, all three pairs of eyes snapping toward the door.
"What if it's the landlord?" Voss whispered.
"Rent's not due for another two weeks," he reassured himself.
The knocking came again, this time steady and deliberate.
Summoning his courage, Voss peeked through the peephole—and nearly lost it. A middle-aged man with glasses stood outside, and right behind him was a man in a dark blue jacket.
"It's Editor Osk!" Voss nearly shouted. "He actually came!"
He straightened his shirt, forced himself to breathe evenly, and then swung open the door.
"Mr. Osk! Hello!" Voss's voice cracked with excitement. "You really came!"
"Of course. I told you I'd get back to you," Osk said warmly, adjusting his glasses.
"This is my friend, Phil. He's also very interested in your work."
Voss's eyes shifted to the man behind him—and froze.
That calm, friendly face. That distinctive presence. That familiar receding hairline… wasn't this Phil Coulson from S.H.I.E.L.D.?
"Hello, I'm Phil Coulson." He stepped forward with a handshake.
"I'm a fisherman who reads in his free time. Osk showed me your manuscript—it's impressive."
A fisherman? Voss's thoughts raced.
Could it be that in this world, Coulson hadn't joined S.H.I.E.L.D. yet? That he was just… an ordinary guy?
"Ah… hello, hello." Voss shook his hand quickly. "Please, come in. Sorry the place is a bit messy."
The two men stepped into the living room—and immediately stopped in their tracks.
Tom was seated on the sofa with perfect posture, nodding politely like a gentleman. Jerry was on the coffee table, grooming his whiskers furiously as if preparing to welcome royalty.
"These… are your pets?" Osk's jaw went slack.
"They seem incredibly intelligent," Coulson added. "Did that cat just greet us?"
Voss scratched his head. "Tom and Jerry are… unusually smart. I guess it comes from spending so much time with people."
Tom puffed out his chest at the praise, while Jerry hopped beside him, both striking their best "good behavior" poses.
"Incredible," Osk muttered. "I've never seen animals act so human."
Coulson crouched for a closer look. "Their eyes… it really feels like they understand every word."
"Ahem—please, have a seat." Voss hurried to change the subject. "You're here about the manuscript?"
"Yes." Osk sat down. "We've both read it, and it's very strong. Your grasp of World War II history and your insight into Captain America are excellent."
Voss's chest tightened. "So… does that mean…?"
"We'd like to see the full manuscript," Coulson said. "If the quality holds up, we're ready to consider publishing it."
"Really? You'd actually publish my novel?" Voss nearly leapt out of his chair.
Tom and Jerry exchanged looks, grins spreading across their little faces.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Osk cautioned, raising a hand. "We'll need to see the whole thing before making a decision. How much have you written?"
"Fifty thousand words!" Voss dashed to the table and grabbed the thick stack of papers. "I pulled an all-nighter. From the protagonist's arrival to teaming up with Steve—it's all there!"
Coulson accepted the manuscript and flipped through a few pages. "Handwritten?"
"Yeah. No computer," Voss admitted, embarrassed. "Money's tight."
"That's fine. Content matters more than format," Osk assured him. "But if we move forward, it will need to be typed up."
Coulson had already stopped skimming and begun reading in earnest, nodding at certain passages.
"This scene is sharp," Coulson said, pointing. "The protagonist helps Steve train, but never outshines him. That balance is handled really well."
Voss's face burned red. "Thank you… I wanted him to support Steve, not steal the spotlight."
"Exactly," Coulson agreed. "Too many authors overpower their leads and ruin the originals. Yours feels respectful."
Osk leaned over. "And the inner conflict works, too. Knowing what's coming, but not being able to interfere—very compelling."
Voss felt like he could float right through the ceiling.
Tom, sensing his excitement, gently tapped his leg with a paw as if to remind him: Keep cool.
"If we decide to publish," Osk continued, "the royalty split would be 20%. That's double the usual rate for new authors, given your work's potential."
"20%?" Voss blinked. "What does that mean exactly?"
"It means for every book sold, you'd receive 20% of the cover price," Osk explained. "So if a book sells for $20, you'd get $4."
Voss did the math in his head. Ten thousand copies… that's forty thousand dollars!
"There's also an advance," Coulson added. "If we sign, you'd receive $5,000 upfront."
"Five thousand?!" Voss's eyes went wide. That was enough to cover months of expenses—and finally buy a phone and a laptop.
Jerry seemed to understand, bouncing up and down on the coffee table in excitement.
"Of course," Osk reminded, "this all depends on the full manuscript holding up."
"No problem!" Voss said quickly. "When will you finish reading it?"
"Give us three days," Coulson said, closing the stack. "We'll evaluate carefully. Fifty thousand words isn't light work."
"If everything checks out, we'll sign this weekend," Osk added, rising. "We'll bring the official contract then."
Voss could only nod again and again, grinning like a fool. "Thank you! Thank you for this chance!"
"Don't thank us yet," Coulson chuckled. "Let us finish first. But honestly? The start is excellent. I'm excited to see where it goes."
When they finally left, Voss shut the door and collapsed onto the sofa.
"Oh my god… is this really happening?" He stared at Tom and Jerry. "Are we actually going to make it?"
Tom climbed up beside him, patting his arm reassuringly. Jerry, never one to miss a celebration, pulled out a toy popper from who-knows-where and fired confetti at the ceiling.