I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 237 Rogue Nation and the Whispers of the Devil
Sanders must begin to consider whether this might be his only chance in his life.

As the owner of a fairly well-established literary magazine in London, Sanders was young, energetic, and ambitious. He naturally did not want to be the owner of a mid-sized magazine for the rest of his life, but how difficult it would be to continue to move up the ranks.
Great writers generally don't consider ordinary magazines like his, and new writers mostly submit their work to the best magazines first. After being screened by these magazines and publishers, truly good works are usually not overlooked, and what remains are usually works that are predictable at a glance.

But recently, Sanders learned from his friend, publisher Eliot, that a manuscript by a renowned author had been temporarily rejected, and the reason, as he complained, was:

"It is said that many of his peers did not think highly of his new novel. In addition, it was his first time writing a serialized novel in English, his Russian identity, and the controversy surrounding another novel he was serializing. London publishers decided to lower the price of his new book and were unwilling to give him the treatment that a famous writer should receive right away."

"These idiots! Don't they see how many copies of *The Gift of the Magi* have already sold? Or are they deliberately ignoring it? I can tell you that this Christmas book has already sold half of Mr. Dickens's sales—half of Mr. Dickens's! And this might not even be the final sales figure; I've already started a new printing."

Sanders was undoubtedly envious of his friend's luck. After all, Eliot's talent in London was not particularly strong, but good fortune had fallen on him simply because he had received a submission of a collection of poems written by the three brothers, and because he offered very generous prices and profit sharing.

As for who his friend was, Sanders knew perfectly well, because of the article that appeared in the newspaper a few days ago that revealed a certain plot in "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea," many people in London newspapers have recently published anonymous articles criticizing the author.

Some people even openly questioned the Russian's beliefs, as well as his character and behavior, thus exerting moral pressure.

Mikhail responded to this by publishing an article a couple of days ago, first solemnly declaring the freedom of literary creation and correcting the misinterpretations of some people.

Then, in the section on faith and morality, he directly protested, stating: "The Church of England has no right to publicly question the faith of a Russian! This is a despicable act by someone deliberately trying to provoke conflict between the two countries and between the churches."

With the escalation of the issue, some people who were just looking to make a quick buck suddenly fell silent. This accusation was far too harsh! A war of words is one thing, but if someone actually gets involved with this stuff, they'll be in deep trouble.
On the issue of morality, he first cited the fact that he had donated a large sum of money before Christmas, and then went on to say: "I used to think that Britain was a civilized, free and progressive country, but now I am beginning to suspect that it is a rogue country full of piracy and slander. France is more than ten times better than Britain."

These words immediately caused an uproar in British public opinion!

Firstly, the Russian writer's actions seem to be without fault; his donations are genuine. Secondly, it is true that his books were pirated in the British cultural market and that he was publicly criticized in newspapers.
Finally, he actually said that France was more than ten times better than Britain?!

That rogue nation, riddled with French disease, morally corrupt, and arrogant, is actually better than Britain?!

The key point is that this Russian is also a writer with many readers. What would happen if he kept publicizing this to others?
Immediately, British newspapers began to urge that foreign guests should be treated well, that Britain should demonstrate its true civilization and freedom, and that Britain should treat them far better than France.
In conclusion, this article has almost completely reversed public opinion, but things are still somewhat chaotic and the situation has not yet fully settled.

Amidst this chaotic public opinion, Sanders, through his friend Elliott, saw the manuscript that had not yet been accepted. Almost on the same day he finished reading it, Sanders obtained Mikhail's address, gritted his teeth, calculated the best terms he could offer, and finally headed to Mikhail's residence.

To his surprise, the young and promising Russian writer's residence was not luxurious; in fact, it looked quite simple. The only commendable thing about it was that it was very clean.

To his surprise, when he arrived near Mikhail's residence, the young writer was not sitting elegantly or comfortably at home reading newspapers and books. Instead, he was squatting rather undignifiedly in a nearby corner, carefully observing something with a magnifying glass in his hand.

As for why Sanders recognized him, it can only be said that when the man squatting there raised his head slightly, Sanders immediately thought of the long list of praises his friend Elliott had given him.

To be honest, Sanders thought the young man would be annoyed and resentful because of the recent turmoil, but when he actually met him, he found that there was no such thing at all.

At the same time, Mikhail's squatting posture, observing something, immediately reminded him of the magical detective in the novel.

Sure enough, after the young man slowly stood up, he smiled and said, "You must be the owner of a magazine?"

"You guessed it?"

Sanders asked, slightly excited, "Is it based on my clothes? Or some other detail?"

"Because Mr. Elliott told me that a magazine owner would be coming over today to discuss terms with me."

Sanders: "?"

After a moment of surprise, Sanders quickly regained his composure. Knowing full well that he didn't have much of an advantage over the major magazines, he simply went straight to the point and said with utmost sincerity: "Mr. Mikhail, although my novel magazine isn't as influential as other publishers in London, it still has a certain market there. And I genuinely like your new work. I heard it's a series, with more chapters to come?"
"I can offer you the same benefits as other publishers, and even more that they can't!"

"Oh? Then let's go inside and sit down for a proper talk."

Actually, Mikhail wasn't in a big hurry to choose a suitable publisher. After all, with his article published a couple of days ago, things would eventually come to a conclusion. But to be honest, being manipulated like this was still a bit unpleasant.

After Mikhail invited the seemingly sincere publisher inside, just as he was about to invite him to sit down, Sanders stared blankly at the clothes Mikhail had hung on the hanger and some other strange things in the room.

He had been imagining what the detective and other scenes described in the novel would be like, and now it seemed that everything was right in front of him!
So, was he really the one who designed such an impressive character, and even made clothes that don't exist into reality?

When Sanders finally came to his senses and sat down, he quickly stated his sincere conditions.

In fact, the terms he offered were quite attractive. After comparing them briefly with those of other publishers in London, Mikhail couldn't help but show a hint of surprise. Seeing that Sanders wasn't joking, Mikhail, after a quick weighing of the pros and cons, and not wanting to waste too much time, finally extended his hand to the publisher:
"Then I hope we can have a pleasant cooperation."

"Happy cooperation!"

After receiving verbal confirmation, Sanders, who is known for his decisive and efficient work style, quickly began making his arrangements:
“Then we can sign the contract right here. I’ve already found an illustrator for the notary office to do the illustrations. You can just tell me your requirements. If you’re not satisfied with the final product, you can have him revise it. Or you can decide whether to do it today or another day.”

"Let's do it today."

Mikhail, who had no other plans for the day, nodded and asked Sanders to wait outside for a while. Soon after, Sanders stared in disbelief as a man wearing a cloak and deerstalker hat and carrying a pipe walked out of the room.

When he met Mikhail's eyes again, he felt as if this man could open his mouth and tell him about his past life and some unspeakable secrets that he was not comfortable telling others!
Shocked, Sanders couldn't help but ask, "Mr. Mikhail, is this the outfit you described for Sherlock Holmes in your book? It does fit his eccentric image. But where did this outfit and cloak come from? Did you adapt it from your own experiences before writing this novel?"

“No, Mr. Sanders, everyone can be Sherlock Holmes.”

Mikhail's voice suddenly became like the whisper of a demon:

"Once he puts on this outfit, he's practically half Sherlock Holmes. And what do you think of it? Isn't it convenient and comfortable? Isn't it also quite stylish? Don't you think it's a very presentable outfit for winter?"

"Indeed."

After scrutinizing Mikhail for a while, Sanders had to admit that the outfit looked both elegant and stylish on Mikhail, and was indeed much more practical than the clothes currently fashionable in Britain. Coupled with the allure of becoming a semi-learned, calm, and astute Sherlock Holmes, Sanders couldn't help but ask:
"So how much does this outfit cost?"

“The price will vary depending on the material, but such clothes should only be for true gentlemen, so a coat should start at least at ten pounds. What do you think?”

A coat costs at least ten pounds?

It doesn't seem that expensive, but it also seems a bit pricey.
After a moment's thought, Sanders honestly replied, "It's not high. I'm sure a true gentleman would be willing to pay this much for his hobby and his dignity. If you control the costs, it's much more profitable than you would make writing a book."

Forgive my frankness, but this price might still be a bit low. If it were me, once your novel truly becomes popular in British high society, I would only hire some of the cheapest tailors in London's East End, and initially I would probably increase the price you've offered by seven or eight times, only gradually lowering it later.”

Mikhail, who thought he was like a devil: "?"

The British ancestral bloodline has awakened, hasn't it?

(End of this chapter)