Chapter 13 – A Deal in Ink and Paper

The final bell rang across the campus.

Almost immediately, the calm atmosphere of Promethean Academy shifted as students began pouring out of the buildings in small groups, conversations quickly filling the previously quiet walkways.

Luxury cars lined the street outside the academy gates.

Drivers waited patiently beside polished black vehicles while a handful of private security personnel stood nearby with practised vigilance.

Promethean Academy wasn't an ordinary school, as it gathered children from backgrounds most people would only ever read about in newspapers.

Some were sons and daughters of influential politicians. Others came from wealthy families whose names carried weight in business, finance, or industry.

There were children connected to government figures, military officials, diplomats, and corporate executives.

Then there were the scholarship students. The exceptionally gifted few whose brilliance elevated the academy's reputation and academic prestige even further, but ironically, the largest group consisted of neither elites nor prodigies.

They were the children of people connected to power. Assistants. Executives. Consultants. Lawyers. Middle and upper managements that were tied to influential families and organisations.

The kind of people who existed around power long enough to benefit from its orbit.

And because of that environment, Promethean Academy naturally became an ecosystem built on connections, status, ambition, and competition, which made it the perfect place to spread Duel Monsters.

Alexander walked calmly through the exiting crowd.

His posture remained relaxed, his pace steady, his expression composed.

As always, Roland was already waiting beside the car.

The old butler acknowledged his arrival immediately as he greeted him, "Welcome back, Master Alexander."

Alexander gave a small nod and asked, "Did anything happen while I was away?"

To which Roland calmly replied, "Nothing requiring your attention."

After saying that, Roland opened the rear door smoothly, and Alexander stepped inside.

A moment later, Roland entered the driver's seat, started the engine and then the car slowly pulled away from the academy.

For several seconds, silence filled the interior, then Alexander lightly tapped on the partition.

A soft mechanical sound followed as it lowered.

Without wasting time, he asked, "Did you check the typographies on the list I gave you earlier this morning?"

"I did." Roland kept his eyes on the road as he continued, "Out of the six candidates, only two appear to satisfy your requirements."

Alexander leaned back slightly before asking, "And the others?"

Then Roland calmly explained, "One filed for bankruptcy several months ago."

He paused briefly before adding, "It has since been converted into an Asian massage establishment."

He took another brief pause as if unsure he should continue, then he concluded, "…One whose services appear to lean toward a more questionable clientele."

Alexander blinked once before unconsciously muttering, "Asian... would the Hand be in the business of happy endings...? Heh... that would be funny..."

Roland ignored the comment with remarkable professionalism as he continued, "Two others possessed outdated or substandard equipment unsuitable for the quality you require."

"And the last one?" Alexander asked.

Roland's expression remained neutral while he replied, "It appeared to be involved in work of a somewhat… unsavoury nature."

Alexander immediately understood that he was talking about fake documents, illegal printing, possibly counterfeit goods, and other services of that kind, definitely not the type of attention he wanted around Duel Monsters.

In the end, Alexander released a sigh and said, "So only two remain."

Which made Roland acknowledge, "Yes."

Roland continued driving calmly before elaborating further, "The first is a mid-scale commercial print house. Their primary contracts involve catalogues, premium brochures, restaurant menus, corporate promotional kits, and product mockups."

Alexander listened carefully as Roland listed out loud, "Modern equipment. Competent workforce. Stable operation."

That sounded acceptable to Alexander, but then Roland added, "The second shares similar qualities."

A brief pause followed before he continued, "However, during my inquiry, I discovered they have previously handled production work related to board-game components."

Alexander's eyes sharpened instantly as he repeated, "…Board games?"

Roland kept his eyes on the road while confirming, "Yes."

Hearing that, Alexander instantly realised, 'That changes everything. Card games require: Precision cutting, consistent colouring, durable stock, and packaging familiarity. A company experienced with board-game manufacturing would already understand many of the production standards I need.'

Coming to that conclusion, Alexander didn't hesitate to say, "Go there."

Roland nodded once and said, "Understood."

The car smoothly shifted direction.

Roughly forty minutes later, the vehicle slowed before a large commercial building located within a busy business district.

Alexander observed the exterior through the window.

The building itself wasn't flashy, but it looked well-maintained. The print shop occupied the first floor of an old brick warehouse tucked between a garment distributor and a shipping office on the Lower West Side. The gold lettering on the frosted glass door read:

Merriweather Commercial Printing & Design

Alexander stepped out of the car alongside Roland before calmly approaching the entrance.

The moment they entered, the atmosphere changed as the production floor thundered with noise.

Massive offset printers clattered rhythmically while workers moved stacks of paper between stations with practised speed. Fluorescent light gleamed off steel rollers stained with cyan and magenta ink.

The faint smell of paper, ink, and industrial chemicals lingered in the air. Phones rang occasionally in the background. Employees moved through the workspace carrying samples, folders, and printing materials.

Everything felt busy but organised, something that Alexander silently approved of.

A receptionist glanced up from behind a beige IBM terminal as they entered.

She noticed them almost immediately and politely greeted them, "Good Afternoon. Welcome to Merriweather Commercial Printing & Design. How may I help you?"

Alexander approached the desk calmly and said, "I'd like to speak with whoever handles custom production runs to discuss a commercial printing project."

The receptionist smiled professionally, but it was clear that behind that mask she had already made her own judgement.

However, despite her doubts, she still kept a professional and polite attitude as she asked, "Certainly... What type of project do you have in mind?"

Alexander smiled back and said with confidence, "Custom card products. Premium cardstock. Double-sided color. Small quantity."

That immediately caused a subtle shift in her expression.

Then Alexander continued calmly, "I would also like to discuss the possibility of a long-term production scalability if the initial run proves successful."

Now she looked genuinely attentive as she asked, "Do you currently represent a company?"

Alexander answered honestly, "Not yet."

That answer clearly created some uncertainty.

A well-dressed child discussing scalable commercial production naturally sounded unusual; still, Alexander's tone remained composed enough that she didn't dismiss him outright.

"I see…" she replied carefully.

Alexander continued before the awkwardness could settle, "I already possess finalised prototypes and preliminary rollout plans. What I currently require is manufacturing capability."

That was enough.

The receptionist hesitated briefly before nodding, "One moment, please."

She stood up and disappeared through a nearby door.

Several minutes passed quietly.

Roland remained standing nearby without interfering; meanwhile, Alexander calmly observed the interior.

Sample materials decorated portions of the walls. Packaging examples. Commercial products. Paper quality demonstrations. Printing comparisons.

All of that seemed to indicate that he had likely found the right place.

Eventually, the door reopened, and a man in his late forties stepped out alongside the receptionist.

He was very broad, slightly overweight, grey at the temples, reading glasses hanging low on his nose.

He wore rolled-up sleeves, slightly loose formal attire, and the tired expression of someone accustomed to managing too many deadlines simultaneously, but his eyes were sharp.

The receptionist gestured politely, "Mr Merriweather, this is the client I mentioned."

The man looked toward Alexander, then paused for a moment, noticing the uniform of the most prestigious institute in California, before looking at the silent but distinguished figure of Roland calmly standing behind him and muttered, "I see..."

Clearly, he was not expecting someone as young as Alexander, but his uniform and Roland's presence alone gave him more credibility.

For his part, Alexander noticed the reaction immediately but remained completely unfazed, as all this was part of his plan to avoid being immediately dismissed because of his age.

The man approached slowly before extending a hand, "Thomas Merriweather."

Alexander shook it calmly, "Alexander. Nice to meet you."

The handshake was firm, testing, and the young man matched it perfectly.

Then Thomas gestured toward a nearby office and said, "Let's talk."

The office was practical rather than luxurious.

Functional furniture. Stacks of documents. Printing samples are scattered across portions of the desk.

The room of someone who actually worked rather than merely supervised.

Alexander silently approved again.

Once everyone sat down, Thomas leaned back slightly and folded his arms.

"I'll be honest, kid," he said directly, "when my receptionist told me someone wanted to discuss scalable commercial production, I wasn't expecting someone your age."

"That's understandable," Alexander replied calmly.

Thomas studied him for a moment, then asked, "So what exactly are you trying to print?"

Alexander reached into his bag and carefully placed several prototype cards onto the desk.

Thomas picked one up casually at first as his eyebrow rose and commented, "These are like those baseball sports cards?"

"No," Alexander aptly replied.

"Board game...?"

"Close enough but not exactly."

Frank flipped through more cards and noticed that every card shared the same backing pattern, making it clear that it was more professional than most independent prototypes he'd ever seen.

Then his expression shifted slightly as he noticed something else.

He inspected the cardstock, the layout, the structure, the design consistency and concluded, "This isn't homemade."

"It is," Alexander replied.

Thomas glanced up briefly before he praised, "That's concerningly impressive..."

Alexander ignored the comment and said, "It's part of a larger game system currently in development."

Thomas picked up another card, then another, before he noted, "The lamination quality on these prototypes is rough."

"Obviously," Alexander replied. "That's why I'm here."

That earned the faintest hint of amusement.

Thomas continued examining the cards carefully and asked, "Attack points?"

Making Alexander reply, "A combat metric."

Thomas hummed in understanding as he leaned back in his chair before he stated, "You're serious about this."

Without any hesitation, Alexander replied, "Yes."

Thomas looked at him while thinking, 'I have worked with ad agencies, startups, and rich hobbyists before. Most talked too much when they wanted to be taken seriously... But this kid...'

"This isn't just collectable artwork," he muttered.

"No."

"It's a functional game."

"Yes."

Thomas leaned back slightly and commented, "…Card games are difficult, very niche markets."

"I'm aware."

"You'd need consistency. Repeat customers. Expansion capability. Organised distribution."

Alexander nodded calmly, "I know."

Thomas narrowed his eyes slightly and stated, "You've thought this through."

Alexander smiled and said, "I wouldn't be here otherwise."

Silence settled briefly, then Thomas asked, "What exactly are you looking for?"

Alexander answered immediately, "A small first production run."

"How small?"

"Enough to distribute locally for controlled testing. Two starter sets. Forty cards each. Fifty copies per set."

That answer clearly interested Thomas, as it was clear that he wasn't aiming for mass production following some unrealistic fantasy, but was testing the waters with a measured rollout.

Thomas nodded and said, "One hundred decks total. You're serious about this."

Alexander met his gaze evenly and said, "Yes."

Thomas remained silent for several seconds before finally asking, "You want these cut and boxed?"

Alexander answered without hesitation, "Collated, shrink-banded if possible. Plain tuck boxes are acceptable."

Thomas raised an eyebrow slightly, as most first-time clients didn't know the terminology. Then he asked, "What stock?"

"Blue-core if available."

Another slight reaction, Thomas slowly leaned forward now as he asked, "You know what blue-core is?"

Again, Alexander easily replied with absolute confidence, "It prevents transparency under strong light. Necessary if the cards are shuffled."

Silence lingered for half a second, then Thomas gave a short grunt that sounded suspiciously like approval, "You are planning to sell these?"

"Eventually"

Thomas smiled faintly and asked, "How old are you?"

Alexander remained calm and replied, "Old enough to pay my invoices."

That almost earned a laugh.

Then Thomas picked up another card and examined the layout carefully before asking, "You know what your problem is?"

Alexander casually replied, "I'm sure you're about to tell me."

And he indeed did, "You're asking for a premium short run."

"I'm aware."

"That means setup costs are gonna murder you."

Alexander nodded once, "I expected offset plate costs to dominate the estimate."

Thomas narrowed his eyes as he realised that the kid in front of him wasn't bluffing; he genuinely understood the process, making him ask, "Your parents worked in printing or something?"

"No."

"Then where'd you learn this?"

Alexander met his gaze calmly and explained, "Let's just say that my father dislikes incompetence."

Something in the way he said it killed further questions.

Thomas set the cards down and started to go over the request, "Alright. Full-color offset. Double-sided. Rounded corners. Blue-core stock. Fifty copies of each deck."

He grabbed a calculator, his thick fingers punched numbers rapidly as he continued, "Prepress... colour alignment... custom cutting... collating..."

He tore the paper free and slid it across the desk, "Three thousand four hundred dollars."

Alexander glanced down with no reaction at all; he simply asked, "Timeline?"

"Week and a half."

"I need it in three days."

Thomas barked out a laugh, "No chance."

But Alexander calmly stated, "You could do it."

"Kid—"

"You'd move my plates ahead of lower-priority jobs, outsource corner rounding overnight, and run the second colour pass after close."

Thomas's expression flattened because that was exactly how he'd do it.

Then Alexander continued calmly, "You have capacity on Press Three. It's currently idle."

Thomas stared at him.

Through the office glass, the giant machine sat dark and silent.

"How the hell did you—"

"The oil residue beneath the rollers is dry. It hasn't been active today."

Silence.

For the first time since the conversation began, Thomas stopped looking at him like an unusual child. Now he looked at him like a potential businessman.

Thomas leaned back slowly and said, "Three days means overtime."

"I assumed."

"Three thousand becomes forty-eight hundred."

Alexander considered it for exactly two seconds before he said, "Done."

Thomas blinked while thinking, 'He didn't hesitate or try to negotiate... and that usually means inherited money, but inherited money comes with arrogance. This kid carries himself like someone who'd been taught every dollar is a weapon.'

While thinking that, Thomas said, "Half up front."

Alexander reached into his backpack, removed a chequebook, and wrote the amount immediately.

The penmanship was immaculate.

Curious, Thomas looked at the signature line and saw just the name Alexander with no surname, making him think, 'Interesting...'

(AN: For those who don't know, one can sign a check with just their name; it is just not recommended.)

As Thoma took the check, Alexander gathered the sample cards neatly back into the sleeves and left them on the desk while saying, "One more condition."

Thomas sighed, "Here we go... Shoot."

"Confidentiality."

Confused, Thomas asked, "Is this some secret government thing?"

Alexander shook his head and replied, "No. Merely unpublished."

Hearing that, Thomas snorted, "Kid, we print merger documents and patent drafts. Nobody here cares about your fantasy cards."

Alexander stood up and said with confidence, "They will."

Frank smirked at that confidence and asked, "You really believe this thing's gonna work?"

Alexander picked up his backpack and said calmly, "No, I know it will."