Chapter: 113
The play “Peter Pan” achieved tremendous success. Not only was the quality of the production impressive, but the actors’ performances were also highly praised.
Especially the young witch who played Peter Pan received numerous offers from various theater troupes.
“Such a talented child actor… Where on earth did this gem come from? We need to get her into our troupe, quickly, find a way to contact her!”
“I heard she’s under the protection of writer Homeros.”
“What?”
Even though literature and magical dramas, and films were gradually taking over, theatre still remained the mainstream culture of this world.
While numerous troupes competed to present “Peter Pan,” Howlen’s play with the young witch stood out among all of them.
Thanks to this, Howlen’s reputation soared as well.
Having already made a name for himself with his parody of “Transformation,” Howlen had now become one of the top five actors in the empire.
And now,
The two actors who had set the empire abuzz…
“Mr. Homeros! Thanks to you, the play ended successfully. I wanted to express my gratitude… Is there anything I can assist you with?”
“Well, there is something…”
“Anything you ask, I’ll do it!”
“Would you mind writing a recommendation?”
“Excuse me?”
“Ah, it would be great to create a limited edition with your signature in the book too!”
Howlen found himself being worked like a dog.
.
.
.
After signing a staggering 1,000 copies,
Howlen rubbed his sore wrist and sighed deeply. Looking at Howlen slumped over the desk, I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Good job, Howlen.”
“What else… This is my joy… But I’m not sure if my signature would really help Mr. Homeros’s novel. Those books do just fine without the aid of a clumsy actor like me, don’t they?”
“Of course it helps! It increases the collectible value.”
“Pardon?”
“Those who buy limited editions aren’t just going to buy that alone. They buy the limited edition for their collection and a separate copy for reading.”
Howlen blinked, looking as if he didn’t quite understand.
I sat down, organizing the limited editions signed by Howlen, and continued explaining simply.
“What do you think a book is, Howlen?”
“Um, it’s a collection of words written on paper…”
“That’s right. So, what does it mean to say ‘I love books’?”
“Uh, I like reading books?”
Howlen replied uncertainly, as if he was puzzled.
I nodded and expanded further.
“For example, Mr. Dorrings from Kindersley Publishing is what you’d call a ‘bibliophile.’ He creates a huge library to store numerous books and collects old or rare ones. He’s not satisfied with just that; he even makes high-quality hardcovers through his publishing house.”
“Uh-huh…”
“I’m a ‘book lover.’ Rather than focusing on collecting books, I place more emphasis on reading them. That’s why I’ve made efforts to promote library culture.”
“…”
“However, this distinction isn’t that clear. Even if someone reads books at the library, if it’s a favorite, they’ll want to buy at least one for home. So, even though I’ve built plenty of libraries and expanded collections across the empire, the sales of published books in the empire continue to rise each month.”
The essence of reading is ‘content.’ Viewed from that angle, it’s not that different from visual media or theatrical arts. That’s how novels can be adapted for screen.
However, reading has an additional characteristic due to the special medium of ‘printed books.’ It functions as a collectible in itself.
Whereas visual media cashes in on characters or actors through ‘merchandising,’ printed books possess collectible value all on their own.
At least they did before e-books and web novels came out.
“Turning serialized novels published in magazines into standalone volumes, beautifully binding them into hardcovers; all of that is designed to stimulate readers’ ‘collecting desires.’ Since you can read books for free at the library, there’s no real need to purchase them—this line of thinking treats books merely as a ‘means to read.’ However, books aren’t just content transmitters; they are something valuable in their own right.”
“…”
“The limited edition with your signature similarly holds the same value. The narrative of ‘Peter Pan’ doesn’t change with a famous actor’s signature, but the collectible value of a signed book certainly does.”
“…”
“And just as many readers want to possess a book containing a story they love, the reverse can be true as well. Sometimes, people fall in love with a story simply because it’s in a book deemed ‘collectible.’ So, while these books are closely connected to content—‘story,’ the two elements are complementary but not identical.”
“…”
“So… Howlen?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Sorry about that. I ramble too long.”
Getting caught up in the excitement of discussion, I noticed Howlen’s eyes were spinning.
I realized I might have been talking too much to someone already fatigued.
“All right, anyway, thanks for your hard work today.”
“It’s my pleasure…”
.
.
.
Organizing the limited editions with Howlen’s signature, I leaned back on the sofa.
Beside me, the young witch watched in a daze.
With her usual blank expression, it was tough to guess what she was thinking; I could only infer based on where her gaze lingered.
“…Do you want to read ‘Peter Pan’?”
“……”
“Um.”
“I want to… try to sign.”
“Sign?”
The young witch’s signature. Certainly, she had also established herself as one of the popular actors in the troupe.
In fact, a limited edition featuring both Captain Hook and Peter Pan’s signatures would be even more collectible. Anyone who witnessed their performance would surely want to own that book.
However, there was one problem.
“But you don’t have a name, do you?”
It’s true; she didn’t have a name.
To create a signature, you’d need a name, right?
“……”
The young witch seemed to ponder something deeply at my question.
She rested her chin on her hand, her eyebrows twitching as her head tilted slightly, much like the puzzled expression I sometimes wore when lost in thought.
She was likely mimicking my expression.
Typically, she showed no expressions, so this was her way of conveying to me that she was thinking right now.
I silently waited.
“Doe Jane…”
“Doe Jane?”
“Doe Jane.”
“That sounds like a name you’d expect to find in a mystery novel as an unidentified victim…”
It seemed she simply took the name “Jane Doe” from the pamphlet.
I wondered if having ‘no name’ was odd, but since she might think of it as inheriting a surname from Mary Jane, it didn’t sound too bad.
With just the order of the words changed, it could present a twist reveal of “that was her real name all along.”
I nodded and handed her a pen.
“Then, would you please sign here on the cover page of the book?”
Thus, the young witch’s name was decided.
.
.
.
From then on, the young witch—Doe Jane—continued to take the stage with Howlen for their theatre performances.
She saw the myriad expressions of numerous audience members from the stage.
With a single glance, they cried; with a single gesture, they were in awe; with a single smile, they rejoiced. The beauty of it overwhelmed Doe Jane often, facing such an emotional spectacle.
To her, theatre was a medium of communication, a means of understanding one another.
When she performed sadness, the audience responded with sorrow, and through their tears, Doe Jane learned how to expel ‘sadness’ herself.
When she sang joy, the audience laughed and cheered, and in their laughter, Doe Jane learned how to express ‘joy.’
A profound communion, where each brought forth the other’s emotions.
It was an exhilarating experience for a witch who chased after ‘emotion.’ Being able to connect, share expressions, and exchange feelings with others—
For a witch, it was genuinely a joyful affair.
“…This is fun.”
“Hmm?”
“Hehe, let’s quickly prepare for the next performance! Howlen-sensei! Is the next script ready?”
“Hoho, full of enthusiasm, aren’t we?”
And through this process, the witch began to smile more often.
Though it was merely a mimicry of smiles, no one could perceive it as an act.
If I told them, they likely wouldn’t believe me.
“Yes! I want to perform the next play soon!”
Few would believe that such a fresh smile on a girl could be insincere.
The witch learned to smile.
She learned the ways to beam at flowers, to frown when things went awry, and to shed tears alongside those who mourn. She absorbed the myriad expressions and countless ways to convey emotions that enhance life.
Thus, ‘genuine emotion’ became unnecessary.
The expressions she felt most at that moment became her true emotions…
.
.
.
“Oh, Mary Jane, you’ve returned.”
“Jane! Sister Jane!”
“Yes… I was trying to take the young witch to a village for socialization…”
Mary Jane alternated her gaze between the brightly smiling Doe Jane and me.
Then, tilting her head slightly, she asked.
“Socialization… has taken place?”
“It happened, somehow.”
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