IWEML 15

chapter 15

“The proposal I mentioned before…”

Melanie began explaining her planned video stone business proposal to Damian.

She had taken inspiration from modern-day OTT services, but with the technology of this era, building an internet network for streaming was impossible.

In the end, Melanie came up with a compromise — a service that felt like an offline OTT platform.

Still, since video stones didn’t require playback devices like DVD players, the entry barrier was low, and there were no spatial restrictions.

“Also, I’m considering a delivery service. It’s a strategy to maximize the biggest advantage of video stones — that customers don’t need to go to a theater in person.
As I mentioned before, the Clotilde Trading Company has an excellent distribution network. We can make use of that.”

People usually described Melanie as having a pale, sickly appearance — and Damian, the Tower Master, thought the same.

It was only natural, given her frail health.

“The concept I mentioned before — the algorithm — has the advantage of recommending movies suited to a customer’s preferences. But that’s not all.
If we know what the customer likes, we can create new productions later that perfectly match their tastes.”

Yet at that moment, Melanie’s eyes sparkled more brightly than anyone’s — even more than the perfectly healthy Damian’s.

“I don’t want the video stone business to end with just recording plays and delivering them.”

“Then…”

“Yes, that’s right. I want to produce exclusive content for ‘Black Moon.’ Something that can’t be seen in theaters — only through video stones.
Videos made for video stones!”

Melanie was planning to produce motion pictures — things akin to modern films and dramas.

By producing content, she would move beyond simply manufacturing and distributing the stones.

“Oh dear, I got a little carried away and raised my voice. My apologies.”

“It’s all right.”

In fact, Damian found it refreshing to see.

He thought inwardly:

“Video stones have always been something only the nobility used for very important occasions.”

The Beldert Count family — Damian’s family — even owned a theater troupe.

So Damian often watched plays and met the production staff. He knew what happened behind the stage.

Yet Melanie had ideas he had never once imagined — and a passion that burned far more vividly than his own.

Perhaps because of that, he found himself moved.

“To take video stones beyond the nobility, to make theater a culture for the common people too… That’s impressive.”

Melanie’s strategy was to lower the quality (and cost) of the magic stones used in video stones to make them accessible to the masses.

“What do you think, Tower Master?”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

Damian was silent for a moment before speaking. His tone, normally flat and lifeless, now carried a spark of energy.

He had always been obsessed with success, but had never really wanted to do anything in particular.

Yet when she asked his opinion, he found himself wanting to respond.

“Besides… she stood up for me, didn’t she?”

Last time, when they were talking in a café and he stepped away briefly, a young lady infatuated with Polyus had approached. What Melanie said to her had left quite the impression.

“Why would the legitimate son care about the feelings of a bastard born from an affair?
Wouldn’t it be far more reasonable to consider the Tower Master’s feelings instead?”

And she hadn’t defended him blindly — she had empathized with him.

The Tower’s message that recalled him had been short, so he could have returned early, but after hearing her words, he hadn’t been able to face her right away.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“It’s fine. You weren’t gone that long anyway.”

She had probably taken his words as an apology for leaving — and that was indeed what he meant — but…

“It’s already time, isn’t it? Let’s stop here for today. It’s been exhausting, but I’m truly excited for what’s ahead.
Aren’t you, Tower Master?”

“…Yes.”

Originally, she was just Polyus’s fiancée — a duke’s daughter with a poor reputation in society — someone he had no reason to be involved with.

And yet here they were, talking together about the future.

Not just business — even about their engagement. About their shared future.

He had grown up watching his parents’ unhappy marriage, so he’d never had any expectations for his own. Whenever engagement discussions arose, he would cut them off immediately.

And yet here he was, continuing to meet the woman he had entered a contract engagement with.

“Even if it’s just a deal — an engagement of convenience without emotion…”

They both knew it would never end in marriage. They were together out of necessity, and that understanding made things oddly comfortable.

“A contractual engagement… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.”

* * *

It was clear that the seasons had changed.

July in the Freheizen Empire wasn’t particularly hot, but even reclusive mages had begun dressing lightly.

I had tried imitating their clothes — and nearly caught a cold. Sometimes when I focus on work, I forget whether I’m cold or hot.

“It’ll be August in a few days. Time really flies.”

I had been busy. I’d officially signed the contract with Tower Master Damian and established the overall plan for the video stone business.

We named the subscription service company Black Moon, designed a logo, and started hiring staff.

Of course, I knew this was just the beginning. There were still many people to meet and countless contracts to secure.

There was so much to do — and only one body to do it with. My illness made me curse my weak health. Even with staff, there were tasks only I could handle.

While Tower Master Damian and his mages focused on developing the magical technology, I took charge of marketing and cultural affairs.

“Today’s important — I’ll finalize a theater contract and record one of the plays for video stone distribution. No time to waste.”

I dragged my tired body out of bed early in the morning, clutching a stack of documents.

Compared to how hard it had been to secure those first theater contracts, today’s progress felt miraculous.

It had been so difficult at the start.

“Video stone? What’s that?”
“You’re going to record a play… and sell it?”
“And share the profit? How much money could that even be? Sounds like a hassle.”

Most troupe owners reacted with confusion when I brought up the idea. Very few were positive.

If I hadn’t been the Duke of Clotilde’s daughter, they probably wouldn’t have listened at all. As it was, they only humored me, as though watching an idle young lady play pretend.

“Ah… it sounds interesting, but I still think plays are meant to be seen live in theaters.”
“I suppose I’m old-fashioned. Ha ha, my thoughts differ from a young lady’s.”

But I’d expected that.

In the novel, even Polyus had faced cold reactions and failed to secure contracts for video stone content.

“No, I’m sure this will succeed! Please reconsider!”

But unlike Polyus, I didn’t rely on emotion or vague promises.

“We’ll capture the demand of people who love theater but can’t easily visit theaters. My projections show that…”

From the start, I handed them a well-structured business proposal.

“And as you can see, this is a magical artifact developed in partnership with the Tower…”

I even prepared sample recordings to show them, considering that video stones were a completely new concept.

“Oh, this looks better than I thought.”
“Usually you only see video stones at major festivals — but to develop one this small? Impressive. In that case…”

I answered every question sincerely and precisely.

I had studied and studied until I could explain the entire business fluently, almost without thinking.

To shed the prejudice that I was just a bored noble girl playing entrepreneur, I even adjusted my tone and demeanor to appear composed and professional.

Eventually, those efforts paid off — and today, I finally secured a deal.

“Ahem, well, there has been demand from people who can’t attend shows.”

There were troupes that couldn’t accept more audience members even though people were lining up to see them — popular plays.

“We barely have any audience… if this brings extra income, why not?”
“Our location’s inconvenient, but the play’s quality is excellent! People would love it if they saw it.”

I easily secured contracts with talented but little-known troupes who struggled with promotion.

After all, who could refuse extra income?

“Ah, even so, our play will never be for sale.”
“Even with an advance payment?”

For those still unmoved by my explanations, I offered money.

In exchange for the advance, I adjusted their profit share — and they actually preferred it that way.

“Not sure if this ‘video stone industry’ will take off, but if you’re paying upfront, I’ll gladly accept.”

Some were optimistic, others doubtful — but overall, the content contracts were proceeding smoothly.

Still, one of the Tower mages accompanying me couldn’t hide his doubts.

“But really, who’d buy an expensive video stone instead of just seeing the play in person?”

It was a fair concern. After all, I was spending quite a bit on advances.

“It’s fine. Since we’ve reduced their revenue share, we’ll make it back over time.”

This business had already been proven successful in the novel — through Polyus.

“But even with such a great product, Polyus’s profits were far too low…”

He had struggled early on to convince people and gather enough content, losing customers just as quickly as he gained them.

In the end, he only succeeded thanks to his protagonist’s luck — and the help of me and the other “fish” in his pond.

But I had no intention of repeating his foolish missteps.

“I’m no protagonist. Luck won’t save me — I’ll have to rely on preparation.”

Even so, I was confident I could do better than Polyus. No one else had dreamed and planned this idea as deeply as I had.

“Ugh… maybe I overdid it today. My head’s spinning.”

The aftereffects of all the medicine I’d taken to stay functional were hitting me hard.

If I didn’t know when the Saint would appear — the one who could heal all illnesses — I’d never dare take so much medication despite the side effects.

Without my “human painkiller,” Polyus, I had to rely on myself even more.