Chapter 3
As the sales of Don Quixote skyrocketed, the scale of the pirated versions that plagiarized it grew larger as well.
We had reached a point where the imitators weren’t just copying the plot of Don Quixote anymore, but were actually writing bizarre stories, calling them “Don Quixote Part Two,” with Don Quixote himself as the main character.
The market was overflowing with knockoffs showing even less respect for the original work than rehashed reincarnation hate stories.
In the end, I had no choice but to hit the brakes on my plan to release Don Quixote Part Two. If I let this continue, Don Quixote’s name would be splattered in muck like it was caught in a mud fight.
So, I took the manuscript for Don Quixote Part Two and headed to the publishing house.
It was “Kindersley,” the small publishing house that published Don Quixote Part One. Thanks to the success of Don Quixote, it had grown so much that calling it ‘small’ felt like a joke now.
“Mr. Author!”
“Ah, yes. President. The publishing house has really expanded, hasn’t it?”
“All thanks to you! Don’t just stand there—come inside!”
Since I had let them know in advance I was coming, the president was there to greet me.
Dorling Kindersley.
She was a young businesswoman who had inherited and run the Kindersley publishing house. Plus, she was quite a perceptive editor.
She was the one who proofread my version of Don Quixote Part One based on the ‘original.’
As she lead me into the reception room and shut the door, her eyes sparkled, and her voice shot up, sounding just like my brother Eric would.
“Don Quixote is a god! This work… no, it’s a literary masterpiece that deserves to be immortalized in history!”
Well, I mean, it was a knockoff of a literary classic.
“Sir, we’ve even received fan letters from the borderlands! And don’t worry, all the fan letters addressed to you are safely stored in our magical vault—it’s the top of the line, and we’ve only got one!”
“Shouldn’t a vault like that be for unpublished manuscripts or valuables?”
“The love of fans for Mr. Homer is the most precious treasure!”
That made sense, but why was the editor, not the author, saying this?
Is it normal for an editor to become this obsessed with the work they’re handling? Well, it is Don Quixote, so I guess it’s not too surprising.
After all, a masterpiece has this inherent ability to draw people in.
“Okay, fine. Please hand over the fan letters. It seems I have something to store in that vault after all.”
“…What?”
“Did you think I just dropped by for fun? You deposit all the royalties directly into my account.”
“No, could it really be—?”
I pulled out a thick paper envelope from my coat and handed it to Dorling.
With shaky hands, she took the envelope.
“Is, is this… what I think it is?”
“It’s the manuscript for Don Quixote Part Two.”
“Gasp!”
“…President?”
Dorling fainted, collapsing as if the weight of the world had dropped on her. Even while she was out cold, she had a smile plastered on her face.
“Please wake up, President. Miss Dorling.”
“Ah! Oh, I must’ve been dreaming. Goodness, dreaming that the manuscript for Don Quixote Part Two was already ready…”
“It’s not a dream.”
I pointed to the envelope still clutched in her arms.
That’s when she finally figured it out and let out a joy-filled scream.
“Ahhh!”
“Ugh.”
Do people here scream as a passive skill when they’re surprised?
Nah, that’s pretty much universal.
“Heavens… This really contains the manuscript for Don Quixote Part Two, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Please make sure it doesn’t leak before it’s officially published.”
“Of course! I’ll lock all the employees in the building until it’s published, and they can eat, sleep, and breathe it!”
“Really, that’s not necessary…”
My voice went small, somewhat overwhelmed by her enthusiasm.
This president planning to confine all her employees because of a manuscript… That seemed a bit scary.
“The employees would be thrilled to be locked up if it meant reading this manuscript even a day earlier!”
“Surely you can’t be serious.”
“Hehe… Want to wager on it?”
“…I have a feeling I’d lose, so I’ll pass.”
“Hehehe.”
Dorling was spinning around, eyes sparkling at the envelope which contained the manuscript. She looked like someone totally in love.
I may take pride in my love for literature, but that level of devotion is hard to match.
“It seems this is your true calling, President.”
“Do you really think so? Honestly, until a few months ago, I debated selling the business and moving to the countryside…”
Dorling kissed the envelope and gazed at me.
“The moment I faced your Don Quixote, I realized I’d been running this publishing house just to have the honor of unveiling this great work to the world. Don Quixote is my bible, and you are my saint!”
“Now that’s quite the stretch…”
“Does it feel exaggerated?”
Dorling fiddled with some items on her desk, then grabbed the paper envelope and walked toward a bookshelf.
As she pulled a book from the shelf, a hidden safe was revealed with the sound of a winding mechanism—a device perfect for a gothic novel.
The safe glimmered with a blue glow, looking futuristic and probably what she referred to as the “magical vault.”
Dorling placed her hand on the safe and began chanting a password.
“To dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe, to bear the unbearable sorrow, and to run where the brave dare not go—to reach the unreachable star.”
“Those are quotes from Don Quixote…”
The inside of this magical vault was way roomier than its outside suggested. It was crammed with envelopes.
Still smiling, Dorling sidestepped to showcase the safe’s contents.
“All these are fan letters sent to the author.”
“…That’s a lot.”
“They continue to flow in from all around the globe. Given the time it takes to distribute books… I bet they’ll double in a week. Do you really think I’m exaggerating?”
“Now that’s a bit scary.”
“Do you see how your book is treated like a Bible?”
“Absolutely not…”
I kept pointing to the envelope in her hand, chuckling nervously.
That’s the heat generated from the release of Don Quixote Part One.
“If Don Quixote Part Two hits the market, its influence will dwarf the excitement of Part One.”
So, right now, while the buzz from Don Quixote Part One still lingers.
What would happen if Part Two containing the ending was released?
“That’s truly terrifying…”
What on earth would happen?
I couldn’t dare to imagine the outcome.
All I could do was laugh.
And as I laughed, Dorling’s face lit up with crimson, her excitement bubbling over like an eager child.
“If this is truly how you describe the work… Can I look forward to it? Is it okay that my heart is racing? I’m dying to rip open that envelope and see what’s inside, my mouth is turning dry waiting for it…”
“Please save that for after I leave.”
“When are you planning to leave? Don’t you have any other business?”
“Ha─.”
What a delightfully cheeky dismissal.
I bowed as I left the reception room. From behind the door, I could hear heavy breathing making its way through the thick wooden barrier.
What a peculiar individual indeed.
…
A nuclear bomb had dropped on the capital.
It was a nuclear bomb called Don Quixote Part Two.
“Give me a copy of Don Quixote Part Two!”
“Hey, don’t cut the line! Oh, stop pushing!”
It was the ‘real’ Don Quixote Part Two printed by the actual publisher, not some half-baked pirate version floating around.
People flocked to buy Don Quixote in droves.
Among them were servants sent from noble families and nobles themselves who had disguised themselves just to come in person. It was a testament to Don Quixote’s power that such conservative nobles would get off their high horses just to read the book a few hours early.
Soon, those fortunate enough to snag a copy began breaking free from the crowd, and the capital descended further into chaos.
“If I go through all this trouble and end up with a lousy ending, I’ll smear dung all over the publisher’s office!”
But the really bizarre events unfolded afterward.
People reading Don Quixote started snickering and by the time they closed the book, they were sobbing uncontrollably.
In what was typically a raucous plaza filled with chatter, the only sounds were the soft laughter and weeping of those clutching the book.
At first glance, it appeared as if some infectious madness was sweeping through the crowd.
Similar scenes were playing out across the empire.
“Let’s honor Don Quixote! Let’s all go mad in tribute to the man who lived crazily and died sane! Let’s all dream!”
Don Quixote had unleashed a poisonous charm across the empire—one of extreme over-engagement.
And there was no antidote.
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