While Elena was busy making paper dolls, the latest manuscript of *Helen* arrived at *Ladies' Monthly* as scheduled.
Mrs. Ochart was already overwhelmed.
Ever since the previous issue's manuscript of *Helen* was submitted, the author had vanished as if into thin air. No matter how hard Mrs. Ochart tried, she couldn't get in touch with her. At one point, she even considered visiting the author's former correspondence address in person, but the Duke's advice quickly made her abandon the idea.
According to the Duke's information, the author had suddenly been evicted by her landlord and was currently searching for a new place to live, likely too distracted to focus on *Helen*'s manuscript. Hearing this, Mrs. Ochart felt deep sympathy and even considered mobilizing her connections to find and help this unfortunate lady. At this moment, she was not only worried about whether *Helen*'s manuscript could be completed on time but also concerned for the author's personal safety—after all, a single woman out on her own was vulnerable to many dangers.
Caught between anxiety and concern, Mrs. Ochart barely had time to attend to her regular duties. Fortunately, last month Elena had selected some excellent medical submissions, and with her previous fashion tips column, the medical and fashion sections this issue wouldn't be left empty. What puzzled her, though, was that the Duke personally edited *Helen*'s manuscript, adding a few seemingly irrelevant lines of dialogue, which left her quite confused.
Just as the new issue was about to be sent to print and Mrs. Ochart had even prepared an apology statement, the author's letter suddenly arrived! Mrs. Ochart was overjoyed. While still worried about the author's safety, she quickly wrote back asking for the manuscript. At the same time, a different worry quietly crept in.
After all, writing novels is a creative endeavor, and an author's condition can fluctuate. If the recent upheaval caused by her displacement had affected the quality of *Helen*, Mrs. Ochart could understand and accept that.
Fortunately, the new manuscript finally arrived today! Whether it was written earlier and saved or completed quickly after settling down, it didn't matter — it made Mrs. Ochart very eager to open the envelope and read it at once.
"It's really been tough," Lucy, who also knew about the author's troubles, stretched her neck and sighed, "That cruel landlord! She was living peacefully, so why did he have to heartlessly throw her out?"
The landlord taking the blame—the Duke of Berkeley—sniffled.
"How's the new manuscript?" a male editor curiously leaned over. "That fake lady is so detestable. If someone slandered me like that..." He clenched his fists and said fiercely, "I wouldn't care if she were a man or a woman, I'd make her pay."
The previous chapter ended with the fake heiress accusing Helen of pushing her down the stairs, causing Helen to be blamed by her parents and brother. She could only silently weep in a corner of the garden — by the way, the card depicting Helen crying in the corner has become highly sought-after again, replaying the craze of the earlier red and green dress cards, mainly because the card now shows Helen with a crying expression.
Who wouldn't want to collect a crying Helen card!
Though Helen had suffered much unfair treatment, she was always strong and had never complained before. This time, being falsely accused and unable to defend herself, she shed tears for the first time, which made the readers who already sympathized with her feel even more heartbroken. As a result, paper doll sales also surged.
It must be said, although the male editor didn't usually empathize much with women's novels, he couldn't deny the author's brilliant commercial strategy. Even he, originally uninterested in collectible cards, found himself tempted to buy a full set of Helen cards after watching Mrs. Ochart and Lucy admire the Helen cards daily with such enthusiasm.
Knowing this, the two female editors egged him on, "Buy them! Why not? If you wait too long, you won't be able to get them."
As the readership grew, new cards were released each issue. The latest cards were still easy to buy, but the first two issues' cards had become scarce. Especially those originally popular rare cards, hardly anyone was willing to sell. Because the number of cards and paper dolls printed was limited, over time, they would become harder to obtain.
Unless they reprinted them. However, Lucy had heard that even if reprinting happened, the backs of the cards would be changed with new colors or decorations to distinguish the first batch from later ones. This stunned her. Not only did this make the first batch even more precious, but collectors were caught in a dilemma — those who missed the first batch would definitely buy the second, but those who already had the first batch would hardly resist collecting the second batch as well.
This author truly knew how to capture collectors' psychology perfectly.
"This chapter's content," Mrs. Ochart frowned slightly, showing some confusion, "seems a bit unexpected."
She had thought the new chapter would continue to focus on the rivalry between the fake and real heiresses, gradually exposing the fake one's true identity. Why was there suddenly a Rhine noble family popping up?
Although this Rhine noble family had yet to formally appear, they were already described in a mysterious and elusive way by other characters, as if shrouded in thick layers of mist.
"What? Let me see?" Lucy hurried over and read the new manuscript carefully.
After several scenes describing the fake heiress' schemes, the story shifted to the noble family returning from the Rhine. From the dialogue, it was hinted that this family was rumored to sustain themselves by drinking human blood.
"This idea," Lucy showed a complicated expression, "seems familiar somehow."
She quickly flipped through the newspapers on her desk. As a magazine editor, she read various magazines and newspapers to get inspiration and faintly remembered something. She found the *Strand Gazette* — a tabloid that Mrs. Ochart usually despised but was intrigued by its rumors.
"Look," Lucy pointed to the paper, "It says there were red-skinned monsters found in the countryside, feeding on people's blood."
Mrs. Ochart looked back and forth between the manuscript and the newspaper, revealing the same complicated expression as Lucy.
What's going on, author? How did this normal story about a fake heiress suddenly turn Gothic?
"I have to admit, this plot is quite intriguing," the male editor sneaked a peek at the passage and said, "A nobleman shaking a blood-red wine glass in the dead of night, and the glass contains human blood — it's full of imagination, a perfect blend of Gothic mystery and romantic beauty. I can already picture those ancient legends and secret rituals."
Now that he mentioned it, it did make sense.
If the story kept dwelling on the fake heiress' schemes and family bias, readers might get bored. Introducing a new, mysterious family could break the current pattern and make the plot more fresh and exciting. It just caught Mrs. Ochart off guard with the sudden shift in tone.
"Maybe the *Strand Gazette*'s vampire rumors gave her new inspiration," Mrs. Ochart quickly convinced herself, "Or maybe the insecurity and fear she felt while looking for a place to stay influenced *Helen*'s story to have this Gothic atmosphere."
"Indeed," Lucy looked back at the manuscript, "Readers always like something new, and this vampire setting is certainly fresh."
Since all three agreed it was good, Mrs. Ochart began proofreading the manuscript to prepare it for the printing press.
"Vampire noblemen," the male editor muttered as he returned to his desk, already lost in imagination, "I wonder what they look like?"
Elena was pondering this question too, but she was thinking about more than just that.
So far, *Helen*'s paper dolls all centered on Helen herself; she was the absolute main character of the paper doll series. Now that a vampire family was introduced, and knowing that pictures convey feelings more directly than words, should she add vampire family paper dolls? If so, would the vampire dolls have to be in Gothic style?
"Maybe add a special edition or something?" Elena thought. "A hidden version? Would that overlap with the SSR tier? A collaboration? Hmm, a collaborative SR... Actually, we could totally collaborate with other brands—like 'Ghostly Journey,' opera performers, flower girls... whoa, this could really take off."
But if the collaboration SR cards were that good, what kind of character would be the SSR — the Super Super Rare — strong enough to outshine so many others?
"First," Elena wrote down her card plan on paper, "Helen's wedding dress card is definitely SSR. Later, when she becomes a vampire, add a vampire card. Hmm, that's only two."
Two SSRs weren't too many for the whole story, especially since she only planned to write a moderate length, not a million-word epic.
Of course, besides these two, she could also consider cooler collaborations, like working with artists — to capitalize on the Duke of Berkeley's resources — or partnerships with museums, wax museums, concert halls, and such.
But these were just preliminary ideas. After jotting down these possibilities, Elena put the manuscript into the desk and went to check her sister's and teacher's works.