Chapter 73: Looking Forward to the Future
Random House — Editor's Office
"Okay," Adam said.
He wasn't going to turn down a genuine olive branch. The terms Cerf had offered were reasonable, and the promotional support was what the book actually needed. There was no point in holding a grudge about the previous two months.
"Now — the second volume," Cerf said. "Have you started it? When can we expect it?"
"The story is all there," Adam said. "The motivation to write it has been somewhat tied to whether the first volume was going to receive proper support."
Cerf's expression did something brief and controlled. "I understand."
He did understand. He'd manufactured that situation deliberately and was now on the other side of it.
"A second printing of a hundred thousand copies will move through our full distribution network," Cerf said. "And if that performs the way I expect it to, we'll be looking at a third printing shortly after. Your income from this will be significant. There are readers genuinely waiting for what happens next."
Adam ran the numbers in his head. A hundred thousand copies at fifty dollars retail, ten percent royalty — that was half a million dollars. Not the kind of number that appeared on the Friends cast's paychecks a decade from now, but by any other standard, an extraordinary outcome for a debut novel from an unknown author.
More importantly, it was the kind of number that removed every financial obstacle from his medical school path.
"I've already started the second volume," Adam said. "I have seven volumes planned in total. Each one runs between four hundred and eight hundred pages. One volume per year is the pace I'm working toward."
Cerf stared at him. "Seven volumes."
"That's the core story. The world has enough material for more if readers want it."
Cerf leaned back slightly with the expression of a man doing arithmetic and not enjoying the result. He'd had the opportunity to acquire the full intellectual property. He had not taken it. The math was becoming clear.
"Your readers will be happy to hear there's more coming," he said, keeping his voice neutral.
"I'll make sure the second volume doesn't disappoint," Adam said.
"Before you go," Cerf said, standing, "I have some friends who've read the book and would very much like to meet you. They're fans — genuine ones. Would you be willing to spend a few minutes?"
"Of course."
Adam followed him to the conference room.
A group of about eight people were already seated around the table. The variety of ages suggested this was a real reading group rather than a professional gathering — lawyers, professionals, the kind of people who read seriously and talked about what they read.
The door opened and something small barreled out from behind it.
"Are you the Fool? The mysterious ruler of the Gray Fog? The King of Yellow and Black who wields good fortune?"
A girl of about nine or ten stood in front of him with a golden retriever puppy in her arms, looking up with complete seriousness.
Adam crouched down to her level. "I'm more like the writer — someone recording the stories of that world, like Fors does."
The girl considered this. "Do you have a potion that could make Susie talk?"
She held up the puppy for emphasis.
"I'm afraid not," Adam said. "Potions only exist inside the book. And Susie who can speak is unique — she belongs specifically to Miss Justice Audrey." He looked at the puppy. "But I think your Susie understands you perfectly well, even without words. That's its own kind of magic."
The girl brightened. "She is very smart."
"Annie." A man stepped forward with a warm smile. "I'm Gerald, Annie's father. We're all fans. Lord of the Hidden is genuinely extraordinary, Mr. Duncan. We mean that."
"Thank you," Adam said.
He meant it more than he showed. In his previous life, writing had been something he'd dabbled in without success — a single-player experience of putting words out and receiving, at best, indifference, at worst, criticism that made continuing feel pointless. Standing in a room full of people who had read the work and found something real in it was a different experience entirely. He could feel why people kept writing.
The morning passed in genuine discussion — the pathway system, the Tarot Club structure within the narrative, theories about where the second volume would go, arguments about which characters deserved more page time. These were readers who had engaged with the text carefully. Adam gave them what he could without spoiling anything and accepted their enthusiasm with the composed gratitude of someone who was privately delighted.
Cerf took the group to lunch. Afterward, everyone said their goodbyes in the lobby.
"Adam." Gerald handed him a business card. "If you ever need legal counsel — for contracts, intellectual property, anything — please don't hesitate."
He said it with the ease of a professional who understood that an author with a world-building this expansive was going to need good legal representation eventually.
Adam took the card and shook his hand.
He got into a cab, gave the driver his address, and looked at the card.
Gerald Holt. Attorney at Law.
Then he looked at the girl he'd just met, who was waving goodbye through the glass lobby door, golden retriever puppy in her arms.
He thought about a name. About a specific quality of presence — a particular combination of warmth and composed elegance that he associated with a very specific actress from a very specific era.
Annie Holt.
"Huh," Adam said quietly to himself, watching the Random House building disappear as the cab turned. "That's something to think about."
Apartment 20B — That Evening
Adam waited until Chandler, Joey, Ross, and Phoebe had all arrived before making his announcement.
"Tonight's on me. Wherever you want to go."
"What happened?" Phoebe said immediately.
"His novel is getting a second printing," Monica said, unable to contain it. She'd known since he came home and had been sitting on it for two hours. "A big one. He made a lot of money."
"A lot of money?"
"A lot."
Joey crossed the room in three steps and hugged Adam with the full commitment of someone who treated good news as a physical event. Then he stepped back, pointed at him with both hands, and said: "When they make it into a show — and they will — you call me. I'm a professional."
"You'll be the first call," Adam said.
Joey seemed satisfied with this. He grabbed his jacket.
Ross looked at Adam with new interest. "You wrote a novel? What kind?"
"Fantasy," Adam said. "Mystery elements. Victorian atmosphere."
"How Victorian?" Ross said.
"Very," Adam said.
Ross nodded slowly with the approval of someone who took historical periods seriously and found most people's engagement with them insufficient.
Chandler was already at the door. "Are we going or are we talking about the book?"
"Going," Adam said.
They went.
End of Chapter 73
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