Chapter Three

Good Enough

After venturing through the candle-lit corridor of scarlet drapes emblazoned with the golden insignia of Fairy Tail, Lucy knocked and pushed open the oak double doors, angling her head in. The partially closed velvet curtains dimmed the headmaster's office. And glass clinked on hollow wood to her right, followed by an incoherent mumbling. Wine glasses stacked precariously on the coffee table near the fireplace, next to a man slumped against a leather armchair. His strange figure startled her nerves to rise in her chest again. Her eyes quickly rested on the familiar tiny old man with thinning white hair surrounding his baldness, sitting in the armchair across from him. Master Makarov looked up, and his shoulders stiffened, but his tone remained soft and fatherly. "Yes, child? What do you need?"

Lucy quickly thought of apologizing and get the heck out of here, but hope kept her still. Fearing the worst should be the last thing on her mind. Not when she made it this far, and definitely not when the sudden bad feeling simmered in her gut. She approached the two men, wearing her best positive smile. "Hello Master, sorry if I'm interrupting anything. But I was informed that Mr. Wilson wished to hear my book proposal?"

After what felt like long hours of silence, Master Makarov exhaled from his pipe, the smoke curling its way up towards the ceiling, and looked to the man sitting across from him. "Care to let in one more potential author before your early retirement?"

Lucy's eyes widened. Early retirement?! This prospect was never mentioned in the latest issue of Sorceror Weekly. He and his wife owned a prestigious publishing firm. His wife worked as a publisher while he worked as the author and editor. In the world of finance, of which her father had practiced religiously, an author doesn't get paid a decent, steady income as much as the publisher. So for him to retire early would either mean he'd saved enough profit in a separate account from his wife or in a marital joint account. But still, even if it was money he was after, why retire from doing the things he loved all his life?

She leaned to the side to see his face more clearly from behind the armchair, waiting for an answer to the millions of questions popping into her head. The old hand raised up from the armrest and made a dismissive wave. Her heart sank.

"Forget about it," Said Mr. Wilson. "There's no use for another trivial pursuit."

Another trivial pursuit? Lucy looked to Master Makarov, confused. Earlier ago, he'd granted her permission to speak to him. So why on earth would he get her hopes up if he'd expected Mr. Wilson wouldn't be in the mood to look at her? She should feel rejected. But somehow, Mr. Wilson's tone didn't sound like a rejection of her book or her as a potential author. It was more like giving up something truly valuable to him.

Master Makarov grunted. "I'm not one to tell you what to do, Thomas. But hear me out when I say that Miss Heartfilia would love to have this opportunity to speak with you."

There was a pause. The air shifted towards something more positive then. With a sip of amber liquid, Mr. Wilson sighed heavily and set an empty glass down next to the others. "Where is she?"

Master Makarov gestured for her to approach him. "Have a seat, child. Don't be shy." He encouraged gently.

Touched by the headmaster's support of her wishes, she loosened her tight grip on the notebook and made her way to the leather couch. The smell of backhand smoke wafted in the air, mildly disorienting her for a bit. She took another glance at her headmaster. He was still holding his smoke pipe. Usually, he would take it out whenever he'd just received some bad news.

Mr. Wilson leaned over the table and poured himself another drink. In all of his pictures in magazines, his eyes were usually filled with genuine warmth and crinkles at the sides with wisdom and cheers. When those sunken, dark eyes landed on her, she could've sworn there was a glimmer of recognition before replaced with doubt.

Leaning back in the armchair with a slouch, he muttered. "Let's get this over with."

Clinging tighter onto her story, Lucy braved the waters with a light smile. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Wilson. As a little girl, your stories had inspired me to become a writer one day, and so meeting you for the first time has been a great honor. I even look forward to your next weekly advice for amateur writers on Sorceror Weekly."

He only grunted.

Closing her eyes, she took another deep breath. "This story is about a beautiful princess whose kingdom was terrorized by ferocious dragons. A handsome prince strives to win her heart by slaying the leader of the dragons, known as the Dragon Prince. Feeling hopeless by her inability to stop the ongoing battle between man and beast, the princess runs away from home in search for a solution. And even though the prince, who was arranged to marry her, offers his aid upon her quest, she refuses, believing he only loves her for her dowry and her father's crown." She paused to see if the author wanted to stop her. His eyes were on her now, expecting more. So she continued. "Then, the princess was captured by the Dragon Prince, the leader of the dragons and an enemy whom everyone in her kingdom greatly feared."

"What is the name of your book?" He asked.

She stuttered slightly, "Uh, The Dragon Prince."

"And what made the princess feel repulsed by the royal prince?"

"Well, the prince was well-known to have a promiscuous history with other women. And in order for her to fall in love with him, he must win her trust." Lucy blinked when he chuckled out of nowhere. Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his temples. "Funny how women believe in that stuff and still leave the good guy anyway."

She blinked, uncertain how to properly respond. "Excuse me?"

Did this mean her story was unbelievable? If so, he could at least have the human decency of telling her so without scoffing at her.

Master Makarov cleared his throat and looked at Lucy with an unreadable expression. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You'll have to forgive my old friend here. Perhaps a different time would be the best."

"No, it's fine." Mr. Wilson spoke up, straightening up in his armchair. "Do you have your manuscript?"

Lucy tentatively handed the novel to him, and he pulled out his wing-tipped reading glasses. Lucy smiled upon recognition: Gale-Force glasses. She and Levy have their own pair whenever they want to browse through the guild's library. Upon will, his glasses shimmered magically. The pages of her manuscript flipped rapidly like a picture flipbook.

A few moments had passed when Lucy caught a brief twinkle in his eye, and fresh hope filled up within her. Her friends were right. Maybe she would become the next youngest author with a hidden talent. For a split second, she imagined herself waltzing down the red carpet in a beautiful princess gown, poised and confident, taking in all the glory from her obsessed fans. They would cry out her name and rave to everyone about how her stories had touched every young heart, mind, and soul.

The manuscript snapped shut then, jarring her back into attention. The twinkle in his eye was gone as if its existence had only been conjured up by her imagination. A faint color filled his face, and after a pondering silence, he returned the folder to her. "You've mentioned of reading all of my writing tips from Sorceror Weekly. Well, your creative writing had certainly proven itself worth reading through." Lucy perked up by a million as another brief pause followed. "Who is your targeted audience?"

She grinned widely. "I'm writing for young women and men. Teens included. I hope that the themes in my story would encourage romantic couples everywhere to never give up on loving someone, even through hard times. You see, you've also mentioned in one of your weekly tips that a successful romantic story should inspire readers to fall in love, either with the characters or with someone else in their world."

"Hm." He nodded with a soft smile. "I did say that." He swirled his drink in his wineglass thoughtfully. "Let me give you another advice. About targeting your male audience. To engage them, you must learn how to make them fall in love with your princess."

She blinked. "Haven't I done that already?"

"You've managed to portray the handsome prince character quite well. If a young teenage girl were to read this, she would instantly fall in love with him. But your princess character… You need to work on her."

"Oh… I see." Lucy felt the warmth spreading across her cheeks. She'd never expected this kind of feedback. "So how can I improve in that area? Is there a way I can learn how a boy falls in love?"

The man finally smiled, shared a knowing glance at Master Makarov, and glanced back at her. "Your guild has chalk full of strong men. Ask around and learn what they value most in women."

Lucy caught the slight edge in his tone when he said the last word, and a strange cold feeling settled in her gut. Did he know someone who gave him a sudden distaste against the opposite gender?

Mr. Wilson cleared his throat. "Take heed to this advice, and you'll be on your way to writing the greatest romantic story."

Right. The subtle rejection of her novel didn't sting as much as she'd thought. She would consider his advice and do some major research with Levy at the guild's library. She may have to form interview questions with some of the guys. But she also sensed there was something he was not telling her.

Master Makarov interjected. "Perhaps your wife could help her in that area."

Mr. Wilson grunted and gestured to Lucy. "She would have to speak with her without mentioning me. That woman had stopped taking people whom I'd recommended to her."

The headmaster furrowed his brows. "How come?"

He shook his head and waved dismissively. "Beats me. It seemed that she didn't want anything to do with my influence on the business."

Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle began to form a clearer picture. Lucy trod carefully in choosing her words to confirm her suspicion. "If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Wilson, why retire so early in your career? You got a huge fan base that loves you, with thousands of clients proposing books to you and your wife left and right."

"Because…" There was a hitch in his breath, and his tone was rougher than before. "I've lost my inspiration in writing romance novels."

A dead silence brewed in, and Lucy quickly found her voice. "I-I don't understand. What was your inspiration?"

Another few moments passed as he gazed at her with some concentration and shook his head. "My wife." He lowered his head. "But of course, time has a way of changing things."

Lucy grew speechless. Marriage was something she would fantasize almost every night in her bed. A million of romantic fantasies didn't exactly qualify her as an expert in giving marital advice. Placing herself in his shoes, she let her heart go out to him. How would she cope if her lover was her inspiration and soon leave her with the divorce papers in the end? She would be so heartbroken; if only his wife could remember the reasons why she'd fallen in love with him. Tired of watching her idol in his state of depression, Lucy shifted her gaze to something more cheerful. Old scattered books were collecting dust on the bookshelves, just like her dream of finding true love one day.

That thought wasn't cheerful at all.

She lowered her head with a huff. There must be a way that could remind her of the fondest memories that would outweigh the bad ones; a perfect reminder that could change his wife's mind about the divorce. Then, her eye caught the golden letters imprinted on one of the books: The Art of Stage Crafting.

An idea struck.

"Mr. Wilson, I would like to make another proposition." With every word more saturated with pure confidence, she rose from her seat and moved across the room. Picking up the book from the pile, she turned to the men watching her curiously. "A successful romantic story can inspire people to fall in love. Wouldn't you think those same stories played on stage can also inspire people?"

Mr. Wilson returned a blank stare.

"Where are you going with this, Lucy?" Master Makarov asked slowly.

"If I have your permission, Master," Lucy grinned and closed her eyes. "I would like to inspire his wife to fall in love again with a romantic play, based out of my novel."

Mr. Wilson rubbed the dark grey stubbles on his chin, eyeing the blue manila folder resting on the coffee table. He eventually glanced up at her. "I'm listening."