Answer Me, My Prince

There are two kinds of writers in the world.

The writer who continues to write,

a writer who can only write one work in his lifetime

Anne Celine was definitely the latter.

Her first work, "The Princess and the Knight," written by Anne Celine more than 20 years ago, was an unprecedented hit. The story was simple. There are only two characters.

Beautiful princess with burning red hair,

And a blond knight who fell in love with her at first sight.

The knight proposed to the beautiful princess at first sight. The princess answers the driver like this.

"If you wait 100 days and nights under the balcony of my room, I'll believe in your love and marry you."

From that very day on, the knight sits in front of the princess' castle and waits for her without moving a muscle. without leaving, whether it is snowing or raining or raining

And on the 99th day, with only one night left, the knight left in front of the princess' castle.

The story ends there. It's such a futile ending. But people burned more about it. There were various discussions about the conclusion.

Why did the knight leave the princess with only one day left?

Did the princess love the knight, too?

Do you think they met again?

Letters from readers hoping for a sequel flooded the publisher. However, to any question, the writer was silent. So 10 years have passed and 20 years have passed. The name of Anne Celine, a faceless writer, seemed to be forgotten.

But after 20 years, Anne Celine wrote her next film. It's not just the next movie, but the next story of the princess and the knight. It was a miracle that the manuscript came before Cordelia Gray, the new editor who had just graduated from college.

The first manuscript in front of his name, a sequel to a famous work that anyone would know by name. When Cordelia first caught the manuscript, her hands trembled with this incredible luck.

Cordelia herself did not remember exactly how she read and wrote the proposal. The first short manuscript accompanied by a man-made book was read and reread by Cordelia. And when I came to my senses, I was here now.

Yes, right here.

Now Cordelia handed over the manuscript and proposal to editor Mary Ann and was waiting in front of the editor's office. Maybe it was an hour's walk in front of the door, but something finally began to be heard in the quiet editor's room.

Baslac,

And puck.

All employees of Bloomsbell Publishing know this.

The sound of editor Mary Ann crumpling and throwing out a manuscript she doesn't like.

* *

"I graduated."

"The previous work was a huge success.”

"It was the painting. The illustrations are good."

"It's okay to write."

"Maybe from the perspective of 20 years ago."

It's been sold for 20 years. Do you know how many copies of this work were sold last year?"

Cordelia put out the document she had prepared, but Mary Ann snorted without looking.

"Just because it's sold doesn't mean it's going to sell well."

"Editor, people are still curious about the next story.”

"Keep wondering. Cordelia Grey, do you know why this trashy novel has been selling like hot cakes for 20 years?

"...is it fun?"

"No, not until it ends with a question mark. Why did the driver leave? Only one day left. Did they meet again? I'm curious."

"Yes, I'm curious. So, don't you think we need the next story?"

"I don't need it. This is as bad as not paying. If we do this, the sales of our previous series will drop.”

In fact, the next work has often reduced sales of its previous works. While Cordelia was trying to figure out what to answer, Mary Ann quickly followed.

"Nobody wants to read the story behind the princess's search for an article."

"I was wondering. I'm sure people like me who have been waiting for a back story."

"I like it when it makes sense. What kind of commando is a princess? Why are you looking for a knight in blood alone? You're going barefoot through the woods? You swim in the lake for ten days? It doesn't make sense.”

"It's, uh, poetic license... It's not silver, it's a novel permission, but it's a fairy tale."

"Oh, be generous. Why do you want to appeal this work so much? Is that really what you wrote?”

"It's a good work."

"Where do you like? I hated this story 20 years ago. Overall, it's not probable. There are lots of unexplained corners. And…."

"...and romantic, right? That's why I succeeded.”

Maryann doesn't deny that. Instead, he just kicked the tip of his tongue and said:

"Romantic Dead Man."

"One hit wonder"

Dead writer.

The publishing company successfully made one work and called the missing writers so. Mary Ann, the editor-in-chief, was well aware that contact with such a dead writer led to publication, and it was rare for him to succeed.

Nevertheless, regardless of the numerous encounters, Cordelia replied with a smile.

"I know there aren't many cases where the dead writer made a comeback as his next film. But this piece won't do that.”

"What makes you so confident?”

"As the editor said, there are some parts that are not probable, and it's so classic that readers these days have some boring developments. But it's charming enough to get rid of all that. This book is 'real.'

"Where the hell did you learn to say that? What do you mean, this book is real?"

"If you don't like publishing a book, why don't you put it on the web? It's an Internet page, so it's less burdensome, and if the response is good, I'll publish it in a book. What?"

Codelia's large green eyes were full of passion that only first-year editors could have. Mary Ann shook her head.

"Okay."

"What? If you say yes, so...….”

"Go ahead. Instead, you have to do everything you used to do. Well, it's worth it."

"I'll extend my existing work! Thank you. Thank you!"

"That's enough thank you. And even if it wasn't for this, I had to work overtime."

"Yes, of course, of course."

I didn't know that writer Anne Celine would bother me like this when I nodded to drop my neck.

It should have been expected when the first contribution came by mail, not mail, but the author's dictionary did not seem to have anything to do by mail. When asked to write down his phone number even though he asked for his e-mail address, Anne Celine replied in a yellow envelope stamped with the post office's seal, white paper.

I don't have a phone number. There is no email address.]

I didn't know if he really didn't know or if he was saying, "There's no e-mail address in my dictionary."

"No, the computer... You don't have it?"

When Cordelia grumbled like that, Garrett, sitting next to her, waved her hand.

"There are still many old writers who work by hand."

"Even in these days?"

You said you were the last author to publish 20 years ago. For the people of that time, writing was written with a pencil. Tell him to bring it to the publisher himself. Or Cordelia, you go."

"That's true, isn't it kind of unusual that you don't have an email or a phone number?"

"I guess he's a phobia. There's no email, no phone, no face-to-face meetings. Well, it's not planned yet and it's not urgent. But isn't this writer saying that he doesn't even have a home?"

"No way."

And the agitation caught Cordelia. A week later, an antique envelope arrived again in front of Cordelia of Bloomsbell Publishing. As expected, it was written in typewriter.

I don't have a home address.]

Do you even exist, writer?

With all the desire to shout, Codelier read the next line.

Fortunately, there is a place to leave the manuscript. There is an antique shop with a green sign at the end of the Potobello street. Go there at 7 p.m. this Wednesday. No other days, no other time. You must go then. There'll be a pretty cool guy waiting for you there. Take his manuscript.]

"You live in a fairy tale.”

Garrett, who was sneaking over the partition from the next seat, giggled again.

Even during lunch time, there were behind-the-scenes stories and jokes about the author, who had no computer, phone, or home. Editor-in-chief Mary Ann kicked her tongue like a beggar, and Garrett encouraged Cordelia like she teased her again.

"I heard you said you'd still have a pretty good male employee. I know how to get the writer to know what to do."

"Yeah."

"Come with me? I can't let Miss Cordelia meet a wonderful man alone."

"That's enough. It's time after work, and all I have to do is bring the manuscript. Well."

"I've got it. Cordelia Gray. It's been a long time."

"Actually, I don't even think it's bothersome at this point. Isn't it romantic to leave the manuscript to a nice employee at a regular store instead of using e-mail or phone?”

"Wow, Romantic? You're still not rotten! You're such a unicorn being a new editor? Wendy, Steve, and Mary Ann, did you hear what Cordelia just said?”

"Oh, I'll sing it all again. I'm just saying it. Let's think positively. It's annoying for me, too. It's bothersome…."

Garrett, who came in only two months earlier than me, pretended to know everything about everything and pretended to be a senior, caught the count again. In his fuss, Cordelia quickly changed her words and glossed over. However, 'somewhat romantic' was neither a word of comfort nor a joke.

Don't you think it's like a treasure hunt?

However, if he spoke out, he would be a laughing stock again.

It was Wednesday, and soon after work, a treasure hunt at the green signboard antique shop was waiting for her. All Cordelia could do now was hide her swollen heart like a balloon and wait for her time to leave work.

* * *

To get to the Photobello Market from Bloomsbell Publishing, Platanus must pass by a large stretch of road on both sides. It is a friendly street where green summer leaves gently greet you on a sunny day, it is a friendly street.

Cordelia called it "Platanus' Greeting." Of course, not in the presence of everyone, but by myself. Cordelia was not that delicious.

As the bus entered the alley in the greeting of Platanus, the unknown tree on the corner shone silver in the sun. Cordelia picked up her phone and tried to find the tree's name, but soon quit. Instead of looking for a complicated and hard scientific name, Cordelia decided to call the street a "silver tree path."

If you say this out loud, you'll hear if you're Anne of Green Gables, but what's the matter? It wasn't bad to think alone.

The road was clear today, and Cordelia found a store on the green sign much earlier than she thought. There were quite a few fake antique shops on the street disguised as Victorian goods, but it seemed to be more full-fledged than expected. But it wasn't just the atmosphere of the store that brightened Cordelia's face when she opened the store.

There was a truly frighteningly handsome employee there.

a review of one's

I'd appreciate it if you'd enjoy reading it and give me some recommendations.

I'll wake up tomorrow morning and bring one more.