Chapter 3 — The Problem of Copies
Morning arrived quietly.
The soft chime of the cathedral bells drifted through the window, carried by the wind that seemed to never leave Mondstadt.
Ken woke slowly.
For a few moments, he simply stared at the ceiling of his room, still half-lost between two lives.
Wooden beams.
Golden light slipping through the curtains.
Silence.
No phone.
No messages.
No impossible deadlines.
His eyes half-lidded, he let out a slow breath.
"…Still here."
Not a dream then.
A faint smirk touched his lips.
He rose from bed and ran a hand through his messy black hair before making his way downstairs.
The shop was still.
Quiet.
Sunlight poured through the front window and painted the wooden floor in soft gold.
His gaze landed almost immediately on the manuscript resting on the counter.
Naruto — Volume 1
Still there.
Still beautiful.
Still a single copy.
Ken picked it up and flipped through the pages once more.
Clean lines.
Perfect panel flow.
Strong pacing.
Honestly, it looked better than he remembered.
He gave a small, self-satisfied nod.
"Yes, you're welcome, Kishimoto-sensei."
Then he placed it carefully in the front display window.
And waited.
For ten minutes, nothing happened.
For twenty, still nothing.
By the half-hour mark, Ken was leaning lazily against the counter, arms folded.
"…So much for instant cultural revolution."
Then the bell chimed.
A young girl stepped in, no older than ten, carrying a basket of apples.
She froze almost immediately.
Her eyes were fixed on the window display.
"…What's that?"
Ken straightened slightly.
His lips curved.
"A story."
She blinked.
"With pictures?"
His smirk deepened.
"The best kind."
The girl hesitated before stepping closer.
Small fingers hovered over the cover.
"Can I… look?"
Ken nodded.
"Go ahead."
She carefully took the manuscript and sat in the reading nook by the window.
The shop fell silent.
Only the sound of turning pages remained.
Ken pretended to organize the shelves, though his attention was entirely on her reactions.
A frown.
Then widened eyes.
Then a sharp inhale.
Good.
Very good.
The hook was working.
By the time she reached the Nine-Tails reveal, her expression had completely changed.
She was absorbed.
Exactly as expected.
But then reality hit him.
Ken's gaze drifted toward the manuscript.
The only manuscript.
Singular.
One.
A problem.
A rather obvious one.
He couldn't sell the original.
Not yet.
And even if he did, then what?
No more copies.
No inventory.
No business.
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"…Right."
He had gotten so absorbed in the creative side that he had overlooked the practical side.
Production.
Duplication.
Printing.
This world didn't exactly have modern publishing houses.
At least not in the Earth sense.
Books existed, clearly.
So there had to be scribes, copyists, or printing workshops somewhere in the city.
That was the next step.
The bell chimed again.
This time an older man entered, drawn in by the sight of the girl reading.
He glanced between her and Ken.
"What's got her so quiet?"
Ken tilted his head toward the reading nook.
"A manuscript."
The man gave him a skeptical look.
"With drawings?"
Ken's smile was thin.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
The man grunted and stepped closer.
A few minutes later, even he had fallen silent.
Interesting.
Ken leaned back against the counter, eyes half-lidded.
Slow.
This was much better.
More believable.
One reader at a time.
Curiosity spreading naturally.
By noon, three different customers had stopped in.
None stayed long.
But each one left having read at least part of the manuscript.
And each one left talking.
That was what mattered.
Word of mouth.
Far stronger than instant popularity.
By afternoon, Ken finally stood.
Enough waiting.
He carefully took the manuscript back from the reading nook and placed it behind the counter.
Then he locked the shop door.
Time to solve the real problem.
Copies.
He stepped back out into the streets of Mondstadt, hands tucked into his pockets.
His mind was already working.
There had to be some sort of writing or publication guild.
Or perhaps the Knights handled official documents.
Maybe the taverns knew local scribes.
His lips twitched.
"…I really should have thought of this sooner."
The system flickered faintly.
[Suggested Objective: Locate a copyist / printing workshop]
Ken stared at the screen.
Then laughed quietly.
"Helpful as ever."
This was actually better for the plot too.
Instead of instant success, now he had a proper obstacle.
A logistical problem.
A business problem.
Much more interesting.
And much more fitting for someone like Ken.
Because if there was one thing he knew—
it was how to turn a story into an empire.
He looked up toward the city square.
Somewhere in this city was the solution.
And once he found it—
Mondstadt's obsession with manga could truly begin.