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Chapter - 126
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 10:57:23 +0000 UTC[Title : One Foot In The Door]
.…
[Unknown - New York]
He didn’t hesitate. He picked it up.
“Regal speaking.”
A beat.
Then the voice came through, gravelly but unmistakably alive with rhythm.
“You know, back in my day, people used to call before they tried to buy the whole damn building.”
Regal’s brows rose. “Stan?”
“Who else sounds this charming over the phone?” A chuckle.
Regal let out a quiet laugh, stepping away from the desk. “I wasn’t sure you would call.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Regal had a feeling - half certainty, really - that something like this was coming.
After all, he had been circling MDC for weeks now, especially ever since his talk with Gwen’s father. It wasn’t subtle. And at this level of the game, someone always notices.
But the timing… that was something else.
Regal already had nearly 8% of MDC’s shares locked in. Coincidence or not, the deal to close the next batch was set for tomorrow.
And now - today - Stan calls.
Maybe it wasn't him that was caught and someone else.
“Well, I figured I should talk to the guy who has been poking around my offices like a raccoon with a blueprint.” Stan paused. “You’re ambitious, I will give you that.”
“Ambition’s the only way to survive in this business.”
“Nah.” Stan said. “Charm. Charm’s the real superpower. But ambition’s a close second.”
Regal paced slowly to the window, the city beneath looking like a grid of possibilities.
“Okay… first and foremost, I am sorry, I guess. I know what you’ve built, Stan. I’m not here to step on it.”
Stan’s voice shifted, the bravado easing into something quieter, more weathered, more real. “This company, MDC, it’s not just ink and characters, you know? It’s my whole damn life. I was barely shaving when I started here. I wrote stories during the war, clawed through near-bankruptcy more times than I care to admit. These characters… they’re family.”
“I get that.” Regal said, and he meant it. “And I am not here to take that from you. What I want is to carry it forward. Help shape what comes next. Build something lasting. Bigger than what anyone’s expecting.”
A pause. Long. Regal could hear the faint rustle of papers on the other end, the click of a pen cap - thoughts being weighed, history being measured.
Then Stan spoke again, slower this time.
“Alright. You have earned a real conversation. Come to my place. We will have lunch. No promises. You bring your best pitch… and I will bring my appetite.”
“That is all I ask.”
Stan didn’t say goodbye. Just a soft, thoughtful exhale, and the quiet click of the call ending.
Regal stood by the window, phone still in hand, the weight of the moment settling in his chest.
Then, to no one in particular, he murmured:
“One foot in the door.”
….
As the call ended with a quiet click, Regal lowered the phone and stared at it for half a second, then slid it into his coat pocket.
Silence gripped the room.
Nanami, who had been glued to the monitor screen watching MeTube comments fly in, suddenly turned around, eyes sharp. He sensed something had shifted - but, as always, the conversation was a blur to him.
While Rock, just stood by the wall like a silent sculpture, gave the slightest tilt of his head but said nothing.
It was Gwendolyn who finally broke the silence. She dropped into the leather chair, exhaling so sharply it was nearly a gasp.
“Thank God.” She muttered, dragging a hand through her hair and letting it fall behind her shoulders. “I wasn’t sure he would call.”
Regal turned to her, his eyes unreadable for a moment. “Neither was I.”
“You were bluffing this whole time?”
He gave a faint smirk. “More like… hedging.”
Nanami blinked, then muttered something in Japanese under his breath, sharp, clipped, confused.
Rock didn’t miss a beat. “He said, ‘Can someone explain why you all look like you just walked out of a war zone?’”
The words weren’t a perfect translation. Rock had clearly flavored them with his own spin.
Gwendolyn managed a tired smile. “Let’s just say if things go our way… the next time you’re in a booth, it won’t just be for Solo Leveling.”
Nanami furrowed his brow, still not following.
He said something else, a touch impatient. Rock rolled his eyes and translated again.
“He asked if this means there is another series in the works.”
Regal was already walking past them, voice cool. “No. Something bigger.”
That caught Nanami off guard. He blinked once, then twice - his posture shifting with intrigue.
Rock finally pushed off the wall, boots thudding quietly on the studio floor. “Should I prepare for security? Just in case this thing’s a trap?.”
Gwen and Regal both paused… But neither of them replied.
Regal simply moved toward the far wall and stared at the calendar, his hand hovering over a date.
“Tomorrow…” He said quietly.
….
Comics.
Once a cornerstone of American literature, they shaped pop culture in ways few other mediums couldn't even put a proper fight.
From the late 1930s to the mid-1950s, fondly remembered as the Golden Age of Comics, superheroes didn’t just exist on the page. They became cultural icons, leaping into the hearts and imaginations of millions.
But industries rise and fall.
The comic book market suffered a brutal decline in the mid-'90s, a collapse that nearly wiped it out. By the time 2010 rolled around, the industry was still recovering from what many had come to call ‘The Dark Age of Comics’. Once celebrated, comics had been vilified, blamed for corrupting young minds, and socially condemned.
Now in 2010 - comics were trying to make their comeback medium but still they are an afterthought in mainstream entertainment.
Publishing them in this climate?
A sinking ship…
Yet, despite all of this, Regal wasn’t just thinking about producing comics.
He was planning to buy two of the most doomed comic book publishers.
….
Samantha looked over at Regal from the back seat, her eyes sharp but steady.
“Are you sure about this?”
Regal didn’t look at her.
“…Honestly? I am a little nervous too.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You? Nervous?”
“Yeah.” He said, almost under his breath. “I am meeting someone I have admired for a long time.”
Samantha smirked. “You really show your age in the weirdest ways, Regal.”
….
The car came to a slow stop in front of the building.
Regal pushed the door open, stepping out onto the pavement with Samantha following closely behind.
In the driver’s seat, Darren remained, hands resting on the wheel. Regal glanced at him and knocked lightly on the roof of the car.
"Park the car and join me soon, okay?" He held out a fist.
Darren smirked, returning the gesture with a solid bump. "Yeah. Good luck."
With that, the car rolled forward toward the parking lot, leaving Regal and Samantha standing before an old, worn-out building.
The structure looked as if it hadn’t seen proper maintenance in years. The paint on the walls was chipped, the windows bore a layer of dust, and the doorframe had visible cracks. At the top of the entrance, a weathered board hung slightly askew, the faded letters barely holding onto their former glory.
[MARVELD COMICS]
The once-mighty publishing house, the home of legends.
Regal exhaled, adjusting his cuffs. "Off we go."
Samantha said nothing, simply following as they stepped inside.
The moment they crossed the threshold, Regal’s sharp gaze swept across the room, taking in every detail - the neglected furniture, the outdated décor, the stacks of unsold comic books piled in corners.
The atmosphere felt stagnant, the air carrying an odd mix of nostalgia and exhaustion.
As he observed, an employee hesitantly approached.
"Excuse me, sir—"
Before the man could finish, a loud, furious voice erupted from a nearby office.
"ARE YOU JOKING WITH ME?!"
The entire floor froze. Conversations halted, employees stiffened, fingers stopped mid-typing on keyboards. The tension was palpable, lingering in the silence that followed.
Regal's expression remained unreadable, but he subtly shifted his posture, listening.
"I am asking you - does this look like a joke to you?!"
A quieter voice responded, but it wasn’t loud enough to reach them.
Even without hearing it, Regal could fill in the gaps.
Then, the first voice roared again.
"With WHOSE PERMISSION did you put MY company shares up for SALE?!"
The sudden spike in volume made several employees flinch.
Then, another voice - sharper, younger, and laced with frustration - cut through the air.
"Can't you see, FATHER? We're bleeding money by the second! If we don't act now, the little value these TRASH books have left will vanish completely! Why are you so DAMN adamant about keeping worthless shares?!"
Regal’s brow lifted slightly.
Ah. A family dispute.
The argument escalated for a few more moments before the sound of a door slamming open rattled the floor.
A man in his forties stormed out, his face contorted with irritation. He made it only a few steps before noticing Regal in his path.
He stopped.
His eyes narrowed. "And you are?"
Regal met his gaze without flinching.
"Regal Seraphsail. I was informed to come here before finalizing the deal."
At the mention of his name, the man’s scowl immediately faded, replaced by a more composed, if not slightly greedy, expression.
"Oh…" He extended his hand.
Regal glanced at it for a moment before finally shaking it, his grip firm. "Seems like we picked the wrong timing."
The man forced a chuckle. "My apologies that you had to see that."
But before the conversation could continue, the door that had been slammed shut slowly creaked open again.
From inside, an elderly man stepped forward.
White hair, neatly combed back. A mustache, well-kept but showing signs of age. A simple, unassuming presence, dressed in a way that made him seem like any ordinary old man from the neighborhood. He carried a wooden cane, not out of necessity, but as if it had long since become a part of him.
And yet—
There was an undeniable presence about him.
Not overbearing. Not imposing.
But something far more difficult to define.
His gaze didn’t land on Regal immediately.
First, he stared at the empty space in front of him, as if seeing something no one else could.
Then, his eyes swept the room.
The employees.
The woman beside Regal.
Samantha.
And finally—
Regal.
Their eyes met.
And for the first time since stepping into this building - Regal felt like he had just walked into a story far bigger than himself.
….
Across the table, the old man folded his arms, his sharp eyes fixed on Regal. His voice carried the weight of decades in the industry.
“Kid, before we go any further, let’s get one thing straight - we are not selling.”
Stan had made that much clear from the start.
.
….
[To be continued…]
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