Chapter 36
Lionel Balzac.
He stood in front of the entrance of a publishing house called “Half and Half.” He had an appointment to meet the great writer Herodotus there.
Herodotus was Lionel’s benefactor. He had forgiven him, cheered him on, and supported him.
The world might say that Homer is the literary savior bestowed by the Lord, but—
Lionel knew there were two saviors in this world. Herodotus, the creator of Holmes and Lupin, was the second savior of literature.
And he was also Lionel’s first savior.
Lionel clutched the card of “Lupin” tightly in his hand, hesitating. The words written on the card were vivid in his mind.
[When the original is complete, I will visit again.]
[-Gentleman Thief Arsène Lupin-]
Had he become the original? Who knows?
He learned about romance novels from Homer, but in the end, that was just something he took and learned how to steal.
Looking back, Lionel had always been a mere imitation. Without a burning inspiration, he had to mimic others.
It might have been wrong for someone like him, who couldn’t create anything on his own, to think that he wanted to be a writer.
“…”
Suddenly, that thought crossed his mind.
He became afraid. Taking a single step felt like climbing a mountain. It felt like he was trapped under rising water, gasping for air.
He thought maybe suffocating right there wouldn’t be so bad.
At that moment of impulsive thought, with his eyes closed—
“Oh, you arrived early. Were you waiting in front of the publishing house?”
The savior’s voice pulled him from his silence.
“Herodotus, sir….”
“Yes.”
“Thank you…. I don’t know what to say—”
“Hmmm, it would take quite some time to talk here, wouldn’t it? We have a reception room inside—”
The savior extended a hand to him, smiling brightly.
“Let’s go.”
“…Yes!”
Lionel didn’t realize it, but that was a plagiarized old slogan signifying the Korea-U.S. alliance.
*
Lionel Balzac sat in the reception room and took deep breaths for quite a while.
I waited in silence for him to feel comfortable.
After a few minutes, he lowered his head deeply and began to speak.
“Thank you! Sir! Thanks to you introducing me to Homer, I could publish my book like this!”
“Is that so? I’m glad.”
“And… thank you for forgiving my sins.”
“Was there really a sin? When an editor makes a request, a writer just follows. That’s how it goes.”
I didn’t think struggling with life and cracking under the pressure of an editor was a grave sin.
Of course, if he’d shamelessly continued those actions, that would be another story. However, he reflected on his behavior and apologized. So, as a plagiarist myself, I couldn’t blame him any longer.
“When you heard that unethical request, if you hadn’t picked up the pen, you wouldn’t have felt ashamed. Ultimately, the choice to pick up the pen was mine.”
“Thanks to that, I met a talented writer like you.”
“…So, I want to return this to you. Along with my book.”
Lionel pulled out a book from his bag and handed it to me along with a card.
The card was the recommendation letter written on the ‘Arsène Lupin’ card I had given him.
The book was:
“This is the novel I truly wanted to write.”
It was the romance novel he published this time with Homer.
I’d read it several times before, but receiving it directly from the author was different.
I took the book with joy.
Then I bowed my head and expressed my gratitude.
“Thank you. This is the most valuable gift I’ve received this year.”
“It’s not that great of a novel.”
“No, really.”
So, sometimes, coincidences approach like miracles. Really out of nowhere, without any foreshadowing or clues.
There are moments when an utterly absurd and contextless coincidence touches a person.
In this world, they call it a fairy’s prank. At first, I thought it was just coincidence, but looking at the title of the novel he wrote, I couldn’t help but realize.
“Receiving such an interesting novel as a gift is indeed a delightful thing.”
“…Thank you.”
[A Thief Haxen VS Sherlock Holmes] was a peculiar work. Maurice Leblanc.
The name ‘Lionel Balzac.’ Honoré de Balzac.
And the title of the novel he really wanted to write.
“Emma is actually the name of a woman I loved. I can’t see her now…”
Emma. Jane Austen.
This guy was experiencing the fairy’s prank. Probably, no one else but me could guess such a prank.
“Oh! But this doesn’t mean I wrote this based on my true story. So, um, can I say it’s a metaphor? She went to the Lord’s embrace a few years back. The wall of status was really the wall that separated life and death according to the Lord…. Haha, I guess that sounds too grandiose…?”
Lionel rambled on, explaining the significance of this work and the thoughts behind writing it.
I smiled and nodded. Occasionally, I chimed in and sometimes asked questions about the work first. The “Emma” he wrote was different from Jane Austen’s Emma, but it had one thing in common.
“Well, um, yes. It seems I poured too much ambition into my novel. Haha… Maybe no one but me can love this protagonist. She is also my favorite character…. The real Emma was truly a beautiful woman…”
“I don’t think that’s correct.”
“What?”
“This protagonist, Emma, will be loved. By countless people.”
His protagonist was lovable.
I’m not a critic, but I could be sure of at least one thing.
“This novel will remain a classic, read by people forever. And countless people will learn about love through this novel.”
“You’re giving me too much credit…”
This ‘Emma’ would become a classic. Not because it was a novel by Jane Austen, but because it was a novel by ‘Lionel Balzac.’ It would be remembered for a lifetime as a novel that anyone in this world could relate to and love.
“They say artists caught in a fairy’s prank leave their names in history, don’t they?”
“A fairy’s prank? Haha… I wish I could experience such a prank…”
“You already have.”
“What?”
It was hard to explain this ‘prank’ to him.
Instead, I shrugged playfully and said,
“A writer recognized as a genius by the two most renowned authors in the Empire. What else could this be but a fairy’s prank?”
“…Haha, that’s true. Sure, such a miracle couldn’t happen without a fairy’s prank…”
“If you need, I can write you a recommendation.”
Homer and Herodotus.
This author’s work, recognized by these two writers, would quickly gain fame. Many aspiring writers would read his book and study romance.
This man, with his innate sense of structure, could be a far better teacher than a plagiarist like me.
I pictured Lionel Balzac teaching students at the future “Literature Academy.” A pleasant future awaited where students taught by him would publish numerous entertaining works.
“That would be too much pressure for me…”
“Let’s call it an investment. An investment in a future great author. No, with just this ‘Emma,’ you’re already a great author in the present.”
“….”
So, whether Lionel Balzac felt burdened or not—
That wasn’t my problem.
“Let’s go together, Mr. Lionel Balzac.”
“…Yes. Thank you very much, Mr. Herodotus…”
*
“It’s been a while, writer.”
“Yes, it has been a while. It’s an honor to meet you, Cardinal Garnier.”
Cardinal Garnier had come to the publishing house.
It was the second meeting since I first met him when publishing ‘The Sorrows of Young Werther.’
“The reason I visited you again is that the council has decided on your ‘beatification.’”
“…What?”
“Then, I should call you Venerable now. The beatification process takes several years, but until you are beatified, you will be a candidate for beatification, receiving the same respect as the bishops of each region.”
“Uh, I don’t quite understand the situation. Wasn’t my beatification canceled?”
“The goodwill you have shown this time has been recognized as a ‘miracle’ by the Church.”
“A miracle…?”
Cardinal Garnier smiled warmly as he explained the ‘miracle.’
“Do you know what a miracle is?”
“…I’m not sure.”
“A miracle is something that cannot be achieved by human will alone; it can only be done with the help of the Lord.”
“Is it different from magic or blessings…?”
Cardinal Garnier pondered my question for a moment.
Nodding as if organizing his thoughts, he explained.
“Magic can bring rain during a drought, and blessings can make the lame walk. But neither of these can lift our hearts out of malice.”
“Our hearts?”
“Making the wounded forgive those who hurt them, making the strong protect the weak, turning the indifferent back to the church, and making people willing to die for their faith. These are what we call miracles.”
“…”
“The miracles the Savior performed a thousand years ago, Mr. Homer, you have recreated on this earth. If not a miracle, who else could make the rich willingly open their storehouses for the poor and regard it as an honor? Who could make people love children as their own?”
In Cardinal Garnier’s eyes, a pure white radiance flickered.
Proof of the existence of God. Divine power.
Someone who felt God’s presence closer than anyone else spoke to me.
“For us, priests who have only received blessings, it can only evoke envy. If all we have is the glory of receiving His overwhelming blessings and being thankful for His mercy, how can we not be ashamed?”
He confessed he had never experienced a miracle himself.
“So, I ask you, writer. Accept the Church’s beatification and become a Blessed—furthermore, a saint.”
“Even if I did, what could I possibly do…?”
“Just say one word.”
“…”
“Do you believe that miracles exist in this world?”
To that simple yet clear question.
I pondered absentmindedly.
Like someone possessed, I nodded.
“Yes.”
*
“Sion.”
“Yes, Lord Ed.”
“What do you think a miracle is?”
“A miracle, you say?”
Sion tilted his head slightly, then answered without hesitation.
I couldn’t help but smile at his answer.
“To me, your literature is a miracle, Lord Ed.”
“Pff, really?”
“Yes.”
“I think so too.”
On my desk were stacks of romance novels published by various publishers in the Empire.
This was the miracle!
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