Chapter 26
The Harren Royal Family never claimed that the author Homer was from the Harren Kingdom.
They merely mentioned, from a traditional standpoint, that they felt the cultural spirit of the Harren Kingdom in Homer’s great works. It was just their way of paying respect to a significant author.
They completely brushed off any questions about the rumor of Homer’s royal lineage, considering them too trivial to merit an answer.
And then, this response got twisted when it hit the press.
[Harren Royal Spokesperson: “The works of Homer breathe the tradition and cultural spirit of the Harren Kingdom. As for the rumor about his royal lineage, no comment.”]
In fact, a little ‘reinterpretation’ of statements is pretty standard when filtering through media channels.
The catch? This was the hottest gossip across the Empire.
Even though the Kindersley Publishing House later scrambled to correct the misinformation, people enjoyed reshaping that clarification to fit their cravings.
“They’re vehemently denying he’s from the Harren Kingdom, so doesn’t that mean they’re hiding something about his background?”
“Right? Could it be true that he’s actually got royal blood from the Harren Kingdom?”
For those juicy royal rumors, the Harren Royal Family’s spokesperson didn’t really have any solid ground to stand on besides dismissal.
The truth was, they genuinely didn’t have a clue.
From the get-go, the Harren Kingdom itself was super secretive about its ‘royal family’ affairs. Unlike the Empire, with its parliamentary constitutional monarchy, the Harren Kingdom had a king acting also as a religious leader—bossing around the Eastern Church like a secular overlord.
However, the current king of this ‘royal family’ was so laid-back, or better yet, lazy, that he earned the nickname Lazy King.
Thanks to all these behind-the-scenes dramas, the Harren Royal Family lacked the capability to respond to gossip. Regardless of how fancy the nation’s status was, their diplomatic skills were embarrassingly inadequate. This was the root cause of this mess.
President Kindersley, looking thoroughly miserable, bowed his head and finally muttered in a shaky voice.
“…Uh, what should we do about this, author?”
“What do you mean, what should we do? Just let it slide…”
Ultimately, I decided to just ignore the rumors instead of firing back. Sure, if I revealed my ‘true’ identity—as Ed, the second son of House Fríden—I could squash those whispers completely.
‘…But I don’t want to freak Dad out.’
Not that I cared much about a little hassle, but I knew my dad would bolt and abandon ship the moment all eyes were on us. I had no intention of becoming the family’s black sheep, so I planned to keep my identity under wraps.
Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. The more ridiculous the rumors got, the less likely my ‘true’ identity would leak out.
“So, President, let’s put this Harren Kingdom chatter to bed and talk about that other thing you mentioned?”
“Oh! Right! We got contacted by the ‘Heiden Magic Troupe’ looking to adapt your work into a performance!”
“A performance?”
“Yep! Actually, other troupes have sent in offers too, but the Heiden Troupe is the biggest and their proposal was the best, so I thought I should let you know first.”
I had actually seen a few shows by the Heiden Troupe. They were the largest theater group in the Empire’s capital, renowned for their flashy magical productions. The content of their plays… well, let’s just say my ‘critique’ isn’t exactly glowing.
“Leave that to you as usual, President. I trust you to handle it.”
“Got it!”
* * *
On a separate note, besides the rumors about me—specifically pertaining to the author ‘Homer’—novels influenced by the works I shamelessly plagiarized were starting to hit the shelves.
Particularly, a bunch of novels inspired by ‘Alice in Wonderland’—with their dreamy and fairy tale vibes—were popping up everywhere. We could even see the signs of modernist literature blooming, pursuing a kind of symbolic and intrinsic art that veered away from the mundane rationality of reality.
However, since there wasn’t a simultaneous societal or civilizational shift, this change was just structural, really.
Some of those poetic language-obsessed novels felt more like a retro return to classic ‘epics.’ And to be honest, there was a certain charm in reading those too. But out of all of them, the most interesting one was:
“Oh, you wrote a new novel?”
“Y-yes! It’s a story I’ve been mulling over for ages. I used to tell it to kids as a fairy tale, and now I’ve finally written it down… Hehe…”
It was an enchanting fairy tale penned by Rolls Camel.
“It’s quite lengthy, huh?”
“Y-Yeah… It’s all the stories I told the kids… I haven’t had time to hang out with them lately, though…”
Rolls Camel’s fairy tale sparkled with intelligence and that genuine, innocent vibe of children.
It was a bit different from Alice in Wonderland. There was a distinct narrative direction in her novel. Like typical protagonist-driven tales, the child in Rolls Camel’s story ventured through various worlds, going on epic adventures and facing countless trials.
Sure, it felt a bit wordy, but the writing didn’t come across as heavy or pretentious at all.
“Feels like an epic tale for children…” I said.
“Is… Is it really? Hehe…”
“I think it’s fabulous. Seriously.”
I wasn’t sure if this new novel could reach the same heights as the classics I had pilfered from. Nevertheless, as someone who’d studied literature, I couldn’t help but marvel at the greatness of the inspiration packed in this piece.
So, it was clear what I needed to say to the author, ‘Rolls Camel.’
“Let’s get this published.”
“Y-Yes, absolutely!”
This book needed more eyes on it. No matter how brilliant the inspiration was, if it stayed locked inside the author’s drawer, it would never become a true piece of art.
‘President Kindersley is going to love this.’
After all, Kindersley was as much of a bookworm as I was. I couldn’t predict how she would evaluate this fairy tale, but I could totally picture her enthusiastic reaction.
She would definitely dig it. A lot.
* * *
“Go see a play?”
At the Fríden estate, my brother dropped a surprising suggestion over dinner.
“Well, yeah. All your novels are getting turned into plays and performances, but you’ve got zero interest and only keep writing. Sometimes, you should take a break.”
“Um, I’m not that into plays…”
“Still, it’s your story being adapted—shouldn’t you check it out? Especially the Heiden Troupe’s performance of ‘Alice in Wonderland’ has been getting raves for its brilliance.”
“Hmm…”
Honestly speaking, it might be worthwhile to see how the books I lifted ideas from impacted other forms of culture and art. Plus, it could be a nice change of pace to freshen up.
Upon reflection, I realized I had been barreling ahead without glancing back. My drive to push literature forward had blinded me to everything else.
Life isn’t just about literature, and perhaps it’s time to develop another hobby.
“Alright. Let’s go together.”
“I’ve already booked the tickets! Can you believe it’s been forever since we went out together?”
“Really?”
Ah.
No, wait…
Before I even got into art and literature, I realized I hadn’t spent much time with my family…
Last I checked, apart from our dinner, when was the last time I had quality time with them…?
Uhh…
None?
“…Would you like to join us, Dad and Mom?”
“I’ll pass. At my age, what do I need with a play? You two go enjoy yourselves.”
“Hoho, I’m good too. Go have a nice time with your brother.”
“Ah, sure.”
…Time for a little self-reflection.
Literature isn’t everything in life. From here on out, I really need to prioritize spending more time with my family.
* * *
The magic play was honestly a blast. It felt like I had genuinely fallen into a wonderland. The magical scenery, scents, and everything felt surreal yet vividly real. Some scenes defied description and lingered only as impressions—like laughter from a cat-less grin.
I had never felt such a strong connection to this magical world like I did today.
When the play wrapped up and the curtain call happened, the actors stood on stage to raucous applause. Behind them, the magical effects used throughout the performance were displayed like a distorted panorama.
“The play was fun, right?” my brother asked.
“Uh… it was like being in a movie.”
“A movie?”
“Ah, it’s a thing.”
“But what was up with that old dude who crashed the performance? He was dressed like Don Quixote.”
“Beats me…”
“It was kinda funny. He was slashing through illusions with a stick. Was that part of the show? Anyway, it was a riot!”
“Yeah…”
Next to me, Eric kept going on about his experience, but it barely registered. A certain impulse kept whirling around in my head.
The decision struck fast.
“Bro, I…”
“Yeah?”
“I need to write a play…!”
“Huh?”
Just a little while ago, I had learned that literature isn’t everything in life. But still, seeing something like that sparked inspiration.
There was no way I couldn’t think of the great plays that had ruled literary history in my past life… those magnificent works.
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