Ink & Crown

Chapter 70 – A Professional’s Judgment

The door opened quietly.

Eiran straightened almost immediately from where he had been leaning against the wall, his attention snapping toward the movement. He had not realized how long he had been standing there until that moment, waiting without sitting, without moving far, his thoughts circling back to the same question again and again.

“Un…”

“Let’s eat first,” Taren said, cutting him off before he could continue. His voice was calm, but there was a faint weight behind it that made Eiran pause. “I’m hungry.”

Eiran blinked, caught slightly off guard, then nodded quickly. “Right.”

He pushed himself away from the wall and followed without another word.

The house had settled into a quiet stillness. The faint sounds from earlier had disappeared, replaced by the soft hush of night. Lysa had already gone to rest, and the only light came from the small light above the table.

The food had cooled slightly by the time they sat down.

Eiran reached for his plate again without hesitation, even though he had already eaten earlier. Across from him, Taren began to eat in silence, his movements steady, unhurried.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Eiran tried to focus on the food, but his attention refused to stay there. His gaze drifted up more than once, only to pull back each time when he saw that Taren had not yet said anything. There was no visible reaction, no immediate sign of approval or dismissal, just the same composed expression he always carried.

That made it worse.

The silence stretched longer than usual.

Taren finished one portion, set his utensil down briefly, then continued without looking up. There was nothing in his movements that suggested urgency, yet something about the way he carried himself felt different, as if part of his attention was still elsewhere.

Eiran noticed it.

He waited a little longer.

Then he couldn’t anymore.

“It’s different, right?”

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Taren did not respond immediately.

He took another bite, finished it, then set the utensil down properly this time. Only then did he look up.

“It’s not just different,” he said.

There was a short pause.

“It doesn’t lose you. It keeps you in.”

Eiran frowned slightly. “What?”

“Attention,” Taren replied. “From the first page to the last. It never lets go.”

He leaned back slightly, his gaze shifting for a moment as if recalling something.

“That doesn’t happen often to me.”

Eiran watched him closely.

That alone was already more than he had expected.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Taren was quiet for a second before answering, choosing his words carefully.

“Most works show their limits early,” he said. “You can tell where they are going, how they are built, how long they can keep a reader before it starts to fade.”

He paused briefly.

“This one doesn’t do that.”

Eiran’s grip on his utensil tightened slightly.

Taren continued, his tone steady, almost matter-of-fact.

“It controls what it gives you. Not too much, not too little. Just enough to keep you moving forward.”

His gaze returned to Eiran.

“And it does it consistently.”

That word lingered.

Consistently.

Eiran let out a small breath without realizing it.

He had felt something similar while reading, but he had not been able to put it into words like that. Hearing it from Taren made it feel… real.

“If it continues like this,” Taren went on, “it won’t stay small.”

Eiran looked up immediately. “Won’t stay small?”

“It can grow,” Taren said. “Beyond just a single book.”

There was no excitement in his voice, just quiet certainty.

Eiran paused, looking at him for a moment, a little surprised.

He had expected him to say it was good.

Maybe even that it was interesting.

But this was more than that.

“You really think so?” he asked.

Taren did not hesitate. “Yes.”

The answer came without pause.

That alone was enough to make Eiran sit up straighter.

“I knew it was good,” he said quickly. “I knew it was different, but I didn’t think—”

He stopped himself, searching for the right words.

“I didn’t expect you to hold it in such high regard.”

Taren did not respond to that immediately.

He simply watched him for a moment, then said quietly, “You were not wrong.”

That made Eiran blink.

It was a simple statement, but it was also an approval of his judgement.

The urgency returned just as quickly.

“Then you have to be the one to bring this in,” he said.

The words came out more firmly this time.

Taren’s expression did not change.

Eiran leaned forward slightly.

“You said it yourself, Uncle,” he continued. “This book isn’t like the others.”

Still no response.

Eiran frowned.

“Uncle.”

Taren’s gaze shifted slightly, acknowledging him, but he did not interrupt.

“You can’t let this go like before,” Eiran said, his voice lowering just a little. “Not this time.”

The words hung between them.

Taren’s hand rested lightly against the table, unmoving.

Eiran watched him, waiting.

He knew.

He knew exactly how this usually went.

A good work would come in.

Taren would recognize it.

He would do the work.

And then…

Someone else would take it.

Someone else would present it.

Someone else would benefit from it.

It had happened too many times.

And every time, Taren had said nothing.

Eiran’s jaw tightened slightly.

“You always say it doesn’t matter,” he said. “That the work getting published is enough.”

There was a faint edge in his voice now.

“But it does matter.”

Taren finally moved, his fingers shifting slightly against the surface of the table.

Eiran continued before he could respond.

“If this book really has that kind of potential, if it is as valuable as you think it is,” he said, “then this isn’t small.”

He leaned forward just a little more.

“This can actually make a difference, and something you shouldn’t miss.”

Taren’s gaze lowered briefly.

Eiran pressed on.

“If you handle this personally and take it forward yourself and make sure it goes through you,” he said, “they won’t be able to ignore it.”

His voice softened slightly, but the urgency remained.

“You might finally get the recognition you’ve been missing and they might put you where you should be.”

Taren remained silent.

Eiran hesitated for a moment, then added more quietly,

“You’ve done enough for them, uncle.”

That line landed differently.

The room fell quiet again.

Taren exhaled slowly, his gaze still lowered.

For a moment, it seemed like he would dismiss it.

Say something simple and brush it aside like he always did.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned back slightly, his expression uncertain.

“I know,” he said.

The words were quiet.

But they were not dismissive.

That was new.

Eiran noticed it immediately.

Taren’s gaze shifted toward the side, unfocused for a brief second, as if something else had come to the front of his mind.

“The problem isn’t just bringing it in,” he said after a pause.

His voice remained calm, but there was a quiet weight behind it now.

“It’s what happens after.”

Eiran didn’t interrupt.

Taren continued, choosing his words carefully.

“For most new authors, the terms are never in their favor,” he said. “Low returns, long lock-ins, and as many rights as the company can secure.”

He paused briefly.

“And most of them still accept it.”

Eiran frowned.

Taren glanced at him. “The competition is too high,” he said. “They just want a chance to be published. The company knows that.”

There was no bitterness in his tone.

Just familiarity.

“I’ve tried to adjust things where I could,” he added. “Pushed for better terms, advised them to ask for more.”

A short pause followed.

“It doesn’t change much.”

The words settled quietly.

Eiran’s expression tightened.

Taren leaned back slightly.

“If this goes through the same way,” he said, “they’ll treat it like any other submission.”

His gaze lowered for a moment.

“And if the author understands what they have…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

Eiran did it for him.

“They’ll reject it.”

Taren gave a small nod.

“And they should,” he said.

That made Eiran pause.

Taren exhaled slowly.

“Which means if I bring this in,” he continued, “I can’t let it go through the usual process.”

His tone remained steady.

“I’ll have to push for terms that actually match its value.”

Eiran leaned forward slightly.

“Then do that,” he said immediately.

Taren glanced at him.

“And you have to make sure they know it came from you,” Eiran added.

There was no hesitation in his voice now.

“Not like before.”

Taren didn’t respond.

Eiran continued, more firmly this time.

“If this works, it won’t just help the company,” he said. “It helps you too.”

He held his gaze.

“You should get proper credit for it. Not just a mention.”

He paused briefly, then added,

“And if it’s as big as you think… there’ll be bonuses, incentives, maybe even a better position.”

His voice lowered slightly.

“But only if you stand firm this time.”

The words settled between them, but Taren did not respond immediately.

His gaze lowered slightly, not to avoid the conversation, but because his thoughts had already moved ahead.

This was not unfamiliar.

He had seen good work before. Not often, but enough to recognize it when it appeared. Manuscripts that stood out just enough to make him pause, to make him think there was something there worth holding onto.

And every time, it had followed the same path.

Reviewed, processed, and handed over.

Someone else would take it forward, present it, negotiate it, and in the end, attach their name to it.

Taren had never fought it.

Not because he didn’t see it.

But because he had always told himself it wasn’t worth it.

The work mattered more.

That had been enough for a long time.

His fingers rested lightly against the table, still.

This time felt different.

Not because the situation had changed.

But because the work had.

He could already see where this would go if it was handled the same way.

A standard offer.

Terms that did not reflect its value.

And an author who would either accept far less than they should…

Or walk away entirely.

Neither outcome felt right.

Taren exhaled quietly.

Across from him, Eiran remained still, watching him, waiting for something more.

He had said enough already.

More than he usually did.

Taren was aware of that.

He shifted slightly in his seat, his gaze lifting just a fraction.

“If I take this forward,” he said at last, his voice calm, “it won’t be simple.”

Eiran didn’t interrupt.

Taren continued, “They won’t change easily.”

There was no frustration in his tone.

Just fact.

“And if I push too far…”

He let the rest of the thought fade.

Eiran understood anyway.

Taren had never been someone who challenged things directly. Not because he couldn’t, but because he chose not to.

It had kept things steady, predictable, and manageable.

But this…

This didn’t fit into that pattern.

He reached for the book again, his fingers resting against its cover for a brief moment before he picked it up.

The weight of it felt different now.

Not in his hand.

But in what it represented.

Taren looked at it for a second longer, then closed it gently.

“I’ll go in early tomorrow,” he said.

It wasn’t said like a decision being made.

It sounded more like something that had already settled.

Eiran didn’t speak right away.

But the shift in his expression was clear.

He understood what that meant.

Taren placed the book down on the table beside him.

His gaze lingered on it for just a moment longer.

Then he leaned back slightly.

For the first time that night, his expression was no longer entirely neutral, there was a quiet resolve in it, as if he had already decided he wouldn’t let this be mishandled and was ready to stand his ground this time to push this through properly.