….

  The man casually extended his hand toward her.

  "I am Regal Seraphsail." He said with a rexed smile.

  Gwendolyn shook it, as she replied automatically. "Gwendolyn Oulworth."

  "Right, Miss Gwendolyn." He said with a nod. "Shall we begin?"

  Gwendolyn didn't answer immediately. Instead, she took a seat, feeling the weight of her tiredness pressing down on her.

  Wait... what am I supposed to be doing with him again? Her mind wandered, still sluggish from the remnants of the previous night.

  She had stayed te at the office again, grinding through paperwork until her eyes burned. She couldn't remember when she had finally dozed off, but the hing she knew, she had woken up on the office couch, groggy and disoriented.

  It was m, and the clock read - 10:30 a.m.

  And, of course, there was the lingering irritation. Why hadn't someone woken her up? That was literally their job.

  But she also knew she 't bme them.

  Anyway, remembering she might have to tinue her day, she shot up and headed to the restroom to freshen up.

  But midway through the building, the smell of Maggie's tea made her pause, drawn to the familiar st.

  It led her straight into this room.

  Now, here she was, sitting across fral Seraphsail.

  A man who, in the span of a few minutes, had fidently decred he held the best-selling book of the decade.

  The absurdity of it made her inwardly scoff.

  It sounded like something plucked from a cheap sales pitch.

  Yet… she had walked right into it.

  She wasn't sure, but something about his presence - whether it was his calm fidence or the ck of pushiness, had kept her there.

  Regal, for his part, wasn't privy to the chaos that had nded her here, nor to the 'unventional' state she had been in just minutes ago.

  But ohing was clear to him - she was exhausted.

  Her posture, the faint sluggishness in her movements, it all mirrored a feeling he knew far too well.

  So, he didn't waste time.

  "Miss Gwendolyn, I don't want to waste your time." Regal said, then pulled out a thick stack of papers ahem on the desk in front of her. "Here is the manuscript. You take a look whenever you are ready."

  Gwendolyn didn't respond immediately. She just nodded and looked back down at the pages, her thoughts momentarily silenced by his casualness.

  Satisfied, Regal turo Maggie, who had been h by the door, unsure of her role in the moment. "Miss Maggie, could y Miss Gwendolyn aea? She might while she looks through this. Thanks."

  His request sounded like a natural flow of this versation, making Maggie blink for a moment, then nod, as if she, too, uood.

  Gwendolyn watched Maggie's retreating figure for a moment before returnitention to the manuscript.

  Her fingers skimmed the pages, but her mind was rag, her thoughts tangled.

  How old is he, really?

  She couldn't help but wonder.

  He looked young, maybe around her age, but there was an undeniable maturity in the way he carried himself, something that seemed more suited to someoh far more years uheir belt.

  Where did it e from? Was it genuine? Or was this all just an act?

  Gwendolyn wasn't the type to be easily fooled.

  She had seen enough in the industry the signs of ambition, even arrogance.

  Their oop publishing pany was now barely hanging on by a thread.

  Everyone ushing hard, reviewing manuscripts with a fiooth b just to keep the doors open.

  She had been doing the same herself - every manuscript had to gh a rigorous review.

  Most debut authors had no experience, and she had learned long ago not to expeything groundbreaking from them.

  Writing was a journey, a skill earned over years of hard work.

  Rarely did someo it big on their first try.

  But she couldn't deny that it did happen - every now and then, a debut author would pull off the impossible and create somethiraordinary.

  She needed a miracle.

  A breakthrough - anything to save the pany.

  With a quiet sigh, she flipped the cover.

  Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, huh?

  She skimmed over the title with mild indifference.

  A children's book, probably.

  She wasn't sure if she was in the mood for something light, not when she had so mu her pte.

  She opehe first page, already mentally preparing for another slog through b dialogue.

  The Dursleys were introduced, an overly ordinary family.

  Strahings start happening around them - people in cloaks celebrating and talking about someone named Harry Potter.

  Soon, Dumbledore, a mysterious figure, arrives on their street, carrying baby Harry.

  He expins that Harry's parents were killed by the dark wizard Voldemort, but Harry survived the attack.

  Dumbledore leaves Harry on the Dursleys' doorstep, telling them that they are his only remaining family.

  This sets the stage for Harry's journey, leaving her curious about what will happe.

  Gwendolyn couldn't help moving to the sed chapter - titled,
  Harry's life with the Dursleys feels incredibly unfair.

  He is treated terribly, with his cousin Dudley being spoiled and demanding, while he is left to suffer.

  On Dudley's birthday, they visit the zoo, and Harry ends up in front of a snake's enclosure.

  Harry finds himself in front of a rge gss tank taining a boa strictor.

  When Harry actally makes the gss disappear, the snake escapes, and he shares a brief moment of unication with it.

  The shanks Harry for setting it free and tells him that it was 'born in Brazil' before slithering away.

  But then, Gwendolyn came across the part about the oing at the window.

  She stopped.

  Huh. That was a bit odd.

  It was a small moment, but for some reason, it caught her attention more than she expected.

  She read it again, a little more carefully this time.

  Was it her imagination, or was the tone of the writing starting to shift?

  It wasn't just a typical children's book opening anymore.

  She tinued, her pace quiing as Harry received the letter.

  The words felt lighter, more pyful now, while also building an undercurrent of intrigue, giving her an odd sense of anticipation.

  She found herself ied in the brief mention of his birthday and then the mysterious arrival of Hagrid, the giant of a man who came to inform Harry of his true nature.

  The moment Harry first learned he was a wizard was so deftly handled, so full of raw astonishment and wohat it made her smile - genuinely.

  By the time she fihe sed chapter, she felt slightly embarrassed by her earlier dismissal.

  What had she been thinking? She had almost missed this.

  Maggie, who had been sitting quietly beside her, caught the subtle shift in her expression. She raised an eyebrow, clearly startled by the ge.

  Befwendolyn could speak, Maggie, looking a little sheepish but clearly intrigued, picked up one of the sketches from the pile and held it up.

  "Uh… sorry, I couldn't help but look."

  Gwendolyn shot her a g didn't seem annoyed.

  ….

  .

  "It was over, huh?"

  Gwendolyn muttered, finishing the st page of ＜Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone＞

  Currently, she was in her pce - it's the same day she got the manuscript.

  After reading for twht hours, as if notig her tired eyes, Regal excused himself, gave her his tafo, a.

  Now, after a few hours of rest, she had finally ed it up.

  'I am gd I was s.' She thought to herself.

  She had fotten what it felt like to get pletely lost in a book.

  Regal's writing was simple but packed with yers.

  And the characters? Harry was so real, from his lonelio his struggle with his new identity.

  She couldn't help but ect with him.

  Ron and Hermiohough sedary, were just as well done.

  Their friendship with Harry was believable, formed through shared secrets and experiences.

  The trio was defihe highlight.

  The suspeh the letters, the slow build of Harry's life before Hogwarts, had paid off.

  The magic? It didn't feel forced. It felt like a natural part of the world.

  Even the side characters, like Hagrid and Magall, brought riess to the story - each had their own purpose.

  The plot twists at the end, she hadn't seen them ing, and they had her on edge, heart rag.

  With every turn, Harry's first year became more thrilling.

  The stakes were stantly rising, and she found herself fully ied, caught up iension, the mystery, and the sense of discovery.

  The themes were spot on - belonging, bravery, and identity.

  By the time she hit the final page, she couldn't help but mentally retract every assumption she had made.

  Regal's fidence suddenly made sense.

  He wasn't just hopeful.

  He believed in this work.

  She could feel that belief in every word.

  In this day and age, that kind of pure vi was rare and admirable.

  It was something that could truly ect with readers.

  .

  ….

  [To be tinued…]

  ★─────??★??─────★

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