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Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Hamlet – 2

Saying it felt “like a movie” was a bit weak to capture the magical charm.

It felt… like a dream. The actors were performing right in front of me, yet the environment around them changed constantly, as if this world existed solely for the actors, dancing along in sync with them.

So, it was all rather strange.

[Hamlet: To be, or not to be, that is the question.]

This performance was purely theatrical.

When Hamlet delivered his soliloquy, even surrounded by other actors, he seemed to be praying alone, standing apart as if there was an invisible wall separating him from the rest. He truly seemed to be in his own little world.

Not even this magically conjured alternate reality could pull the actor in.

[Hamlet: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.]

This highlighted the difference between theater and film.

In a movie, every character belongs to that world—they are part of it. But in theater, the actors only belong to the script.

The world doesn’t actually exist.

If it’s just the actor and the script, then any place can become a stage. So, without the play, theater amounts to nothing, no matter how dazzling the magic might be.

When I realized the source of my disappointment from watching “Alice in Wonderland,” Hamlet just finished his monologue and shouted to Ophelia.

“—Lady, if you pray, remember my sins too!”

I got sucked into this ‘play.’ When I finally came to my senses, the whole audience was standing and applauding the actors. I joined in, of course!

* * *

“Hamlet” was staged in nearly every theater across the empire. The kicker? No matter how many theaters showed it, only a lucky few who could snag tickets ever got to see it.

As a result, the play “Hamlet” became a bit of high culture. Nobles, merchants, and the wealthy were more than willing to throw money around just to see it.

“Oh, it’s so tragic… I’ve been so smitten by that play, I’ve already seen it three times! Each time, something new pops out… Truly, Homer, you must be a genius!”

“Hehe, I’ve seen it five times! But did you know? There are actually two different scripts for ‘Hamlet.’”

“Wait, what?”

Simply watching ‘Hamlet’ multiple times turned into a status symbol of wealth. During this frenzy, word got out that there were two different versions of the script, causing even more people to want to go back and see it again.

“Apparently, he wrote it with two of his disciples! They’ve named them the Camel version and the Plummer version.”

“If it’s the Camel, isn’t that the disciple who also worked on ‘Alice in Wonderland’?”

To stave off the excitement, Kindersley Publishing officially pushed out an edition of ‘Hamlet’s’ script, but it barely made a dent. Instead, it only fueled the audience’s craving to see the actual ‘play.’

And of course, there were always those who turned people’s desires into profit.

“Tickets! Hand over the tickets! What’s your asking price?”

“Uh, it wasn’t easy for me to get these either… What’s your top offer?”

Scalpers were running riot.

* * *

“Ha ha! Stuttering fool! Look at those audience ratings!”

“Well, they’re not exactly overwhelming… There’s only a 3% difference. I mean, my version actually got better reviews!”

“Tsk! Critics are just idiots who don’t appreciate Homer’s brilliance. Their ratings mean squat!”

“B-but I won, didn’t I?”

“Homer said to judge based on audience reaction, so my victory stands!”

“Check this out. The Plummer version of Hamlet is just full of shallow and exaggerated lines… The Camel version is the peak of Homer’s artistry…!”

“Critics’ reviews mean nothing!”

The rapport between Hamlet’s two authors, Rolls Camel and Ian Plummer, was like that of cats and dogs. Ian Plummer, filled with aristocratic pride, was oddly more akin to a popular artist in his thinking.

When tackling Hamlet’s lines, he’d consider the audience, crafting intuitive and listener-friendly dialogue.

Meanwhile, Rolls Camel, the stutterer, was the quintessential artist living in his own bubble. While revising Hamlet’s dialogue, he’d dive into his artistic fervor, constantly hunting for the newest and prettiest phrases.

So, of course, they couldn’t help but clash. They were complete opposites!

“Homer! What do you think? I scored higher in audience ratings, so it’s obviously my victory!”

“Aren’t my lines better? Come on, Homer…?”

“Uh, how about we just call it a draw? Both versions were really good. Why force a winner?”

“What? But Homer you said─.”

“I meant let’s publish both and see how they fare. I’d say it’s pretty amusing to see how people react, right?”

I had zero intention of picking a side. I didn’t have the credentials, and honestly, I couldn’t evaluate properly anyway. Both versions were just too fun!

“If in audience ratings Ian Plummer won, and in critic ratings Rolls Camel triumphed, isn’t that enough?”

“…Alright.”

Ian Plummer still seemed a bit skeptical, though.

“Hmm, Ian, have you read the novel ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’ yet?”

“Ah, yes. It stole our number one spot, so I definitely had to read it.”

“Wasn’t it interesting?”

“…Yeah.”

“Isn’t it more interesting than my own novels?”

“No way! It’s filled with internal errors and historical inaccuracies!”

“But it’s fun, isn’t it?”

“……”

“Many readers say that ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’ is more entertaining than my works. So does that mean I lost to ‘Herodotus’?”

“…No.”

“Isn’t that right?”

“…Yeah.”

Truth is, ‘Herodotus’ is also one of my pen names, but Ian Plummer has no clue.

So this metaphor should do the trick.

“Being competitive is good, but I hope you don’t stress over results or who wins or loses. When it comes to literature, it’s all too beautiful to box into winners and losers, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Instead, hmm, given that Ian Plummer’s audience score is higher… how about this?”

“…….”

“When Ian Plummer publishes something else, I’ll write a recommendation for it.”

“…!!!”

Honestly, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

I never intended to hold back my recommendations, and I’d already given one to Rolls Camel for her lengthy fairy tale.

So ultimately, the net result for Rolls Camel and Ian Plummer wasn’t all that different.

“Th-thank you! I’ll do my best!”

But you know how it goes—an opportunity to show off is always important.

Ian Plummer was so moved he started stuttering. It was a little amusing considering he usually teased Camel about her stutter!

I nodded and continued.

“So, let’s wrap up that topic… By the way, have you heard about the scalpers profiting off the Hamlet play these days?”

“Ah, yes! Isn’t that just how merchants are? They have no sense of honor and see art merely as a dollar sign. Beastmen have their flaws, but merchants—despite being human—exploit their fellows, which makes them particularly low-quality.”

Ian Plummer went off on a tangent, ranting about merchants. Being the son of a council noble, it seemed he really couldn’t stand the monopolistic merchants.

Honestly, I didn’t harbor such a negative view of merchants, but scalpers were a different story altogether. They’re like parasites munching away at the cultural and artistic community.

“It’s natural for a merchant to chase profits… but using my work to hold audiences hostage and squeeze out profits is something I can’t condone. The chance to enjoy cultural experiences should fairly belong to everyone.”

“Absolutely!”

It’s perfectly fine for the wealthy to pay a little extra to grab tickets from someone else.

You can’t blame someone for picking dollars over culture.

However, scalpers snatch away even the tiniest chance for the less fortunate to stumble upon a performance.

The outcome may not be fair, but the opportunities absolutely should be.

“But right now, there’s no legal basis for punishing scalpers, so when we publish the script, I plan to include a warning in the preface against such ‘scalping’ practices… Since this effort involves both your works, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.”

I aimed to sway public opinion just like when I released the second part of Don Quixote.

Hearing this, Ian Plummer suddenly grinned with confidence and raised his voice.

“In that case, hand it over to me!”

“Uh, what?”

“My dad’s ‘Count Plummer.’ He leads the Conservative Party in the House of Lords. He could whip up a law in no time.”

“Oh.”

“If you, Homer, write just a statement about your stance on ‘scalping,’ I’ll handle the public opinion flawlessly. Ha ha!”

* * *

“Excuse me, are you here to buy tickets for Hamlet? Well, how much are you willing to part with? It’s been so popular lately that even standard prices won’t cut it…”

“Arrest them all.”

“Yes, sir!”

“W-what?! What is happening? Let me go! Do you know who I am?!”

“Ha, I’d actually like to ask you: where do you get the nerve to exploit ‘his’ work for profit?”

One week.

That’s how long it took to completely wipe out the scalpers that had been gnawing at the empire’s cultural and artistic communities.


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