Chapter 4
The ending of the novel “Don Quixote” is a sad one.
Caught up in ideals and madness, Don Quixote—old man Quixano—stubbornly believed he was a ‘knight’. Waking from his delusion, he contracts a ‘mental illness’ known as ‘reality’ and dies helplessly. Those who tried to ‘cure’ Don Quixote now find themselves in the position of begging him to believe in dreams once again.
As is often the case for those who are worn out by reality and let go of their dreams.
There are various interpretations of this ending. Some say it symbolizes the end of the Middle Ages and the beginning of modernity, while others believe Cervantes wrapped the story up in the second part to stop any more trashy ‘fake sequels’ from surfacing, all while dealing with pirated editions.
But honestly, what matters isn’t the interpretation.
What matters is:
“If the world is going mad, who can be sane? Being too sane is madness!”
“Let’s honor Don Quixote! Let’s dream the impossible dream!”
“Let’s grab those stars in the sky! Let’s fight unbeatable foes and throw ourselves into unbearable suffering!”
That ending was like dumping oil on the already smoldering obsession.
* * *
There’s no conclusion that emphasizes over-engagement more than the protagonist’s death.
It was noisy outside, filled with the shouts of people marching.
People dressed as medieval errant knights were parading through the streets. They were all readers who were overly absorbed in ‘Don Quixote’, causing a ruckus while holding a tombstone with Don Quixote’s epitaph.
Even the guards, who were supposed to maintain order, were either ignoring the chaos or joining in on it.
“Thank goodness they’re not trying to blackmail the author like Sherlock did.”
“Lord, who is Sherlock?”
“A nasty-tempered drug addict who thinks he’s a detective.”
“If you know him, Lord, he must be quite a skilled detective.”
“Definitely skilled.”
Later on, I thought I’d like to ‘plagiarize’ a mystery novel from my original world. Given that magic exists so blatantly in this world, I’ll have to put in more effort for research… but thinking about it, writing a mystery novel could be a bit tricky.
“Sion.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“How’s the draft of the copyright law coming along?”
“Currently, you’ve personally written to the parliament, my Lord. Many members are avid readers of Don Quixote, so there shouldn’t be any difficulties in passing the legislation.”
My head was spinning from the overly enthusiastic readers, but drafting the ‘copyright law’ for the publication of Don Quixote Part II was going smoothly.
This solved the biggest headache.
Of course, in some autonomous regions and kingdoms where the empire’s laws don’t reach, pirated editions would still be around… but that was out of my control.
“When the copyright law is established, we should be able to see even more interesting works.”
“…Lord Ed.”
“Yes?”
“But if this copyright law takes effect, won’t it mean we can’t enjoy fun works that follow Don Quixote anymore? Isn’t that a bit at odds with your goals?”
Sion’s question initially threw me for a loop, but soon I had to nod in agreement.
This must be the average perception of people in this era.
After all, I myself read hundreds of chivalric romances and wrote ‘Don Quixote’, which can be called a masterpiece of ‘chivalric literature’. There are certainly readers who think, ‘If it’s entertaining, who cares if it’s plagiarism?’
“Well, mass-produced novels have their own charm too. If you’re familiar with the clichés, you can read them easily without much concentration, and the fact that genres exist is part of this ‘sameness’ after all.”
“Then, preventing plagiarism ultimately means there are fewer novels to read, right?”
“Sion, do you know the saying, ‘There is nothing new under the sun’?”
“That’s from the Bible… Ecclesiastes, right?”
“Looks like you haven’t slacked off on your religious studies. Just like that saying indicates, ultimately every ‘work’ is just another work’s imitation.”
I picked up a book that was lying on the bedside table.
It was a first edition of Don Quixote Part I that I received directly from the publisher. Back then, the publishing house was small, so not many first editions were made. The value of these first editions skyrocketed, and if sold, it could fetch ten gold coins.
“For instance, this Don Quixote mimics the structure of ‘chivalric literature’, but does that mean ‘Don Quixote’ plagiarized other knightly novels?”
“I think… no.”
“Exactly?”
A healthy creative environment doesn’t come from nowhere.
It’s about creators having their rights protected legally, and a social atmosphere that recognizes those rights is established. This alone gives the seeds of inspiration an unending vitality.
“Some will twist themselves to avoid plagiarism, and others will burn with inspiration to create something new that has never existed before. The outcomes may not be entirely new; they might even turn out clumsy and half-baked.”
“…”
“But I believe all those ‘attempts’ will become fresh sources of inspiration for writers and bloom in the history of literature.”
As Don Quixote said—
“To attain the impossible, first one must attempt the impossible. If everyone makes the same attempts, the results will inevitably be the same.”
“Lord Ed, you’re like Don Quixote.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Of course!”
Like Don Quixote.
In reality, I can’t be an idealist like Don Quixote. The future I dream of is, after all, a future that ‘previous lives’ have already tread: a feasible future.
That’s how I can feel so confident, knowing the outcomes.
In that sense, I—
“—am more akin to Sancho, really.”
“Sancho…? Well, my Lord, you’ve always had a soft spot for him.”
Following ideals always means facing reality.
The future I imagine won’t be any different. I lack the creativity to conjure something altogether new, but I possess the zeal to pursue the ideals of a ‘previous life.’
“Sancho is practical, right? He’s very human. Don’t you think he suits me?”
“To be honest, if I had to pick the person least related to mundanity, I’d pick you, Lord Ed. I’ve only seen you buried in books.”
“Oh, Sion, you haven’t seen all my sides yet?”
“There’s more?”
Saturated with cynicism and worldly disdain, I survived the cutting edge of capitalism in the 21st century.
I can’t just quietly accept such evaluations.
“Grab my coat. We’re going out.”
“Where to, my Lord?”
“I’ve made a good sum from royalties, so it’s time to spend some money.”
I boldly declared my flex and stepped out with Sion.
“Lord Ed, should I just put the books down here?”
“…”
We ended up coming home with just a few books and bookmarks.
I really don’t have many hobbies, do I…
* * *
I received an urgent call from Dorling Kindersley and visited the publishing house.
Then, I heard something strange.
“…Um, boss. I think I heard wrong… Who sent an invitation?”
“Prince Idris the third!”
“He sent me an invitation?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Well, he’s a fan of author Homer!”
As the title of ‘third prince’ suggests, Idris is of royal blood.
Even if he’s at the bottom of the succession line, he still holds the dignified right to everything within the empire.
And he’s looking for me? Just an unknown author whose book sells decently?
“This is an amazing opportunity! If you make a good impression now, you might even get royal endorsement for your next book!”
“Um, hold on. Let me think….”
“Oh, right! I got a bit too excited, hehe….”
Alright, let’s recap.
The empire’s third prince invited me because he’s a fan of my ‘Don Quixote.’
It’s a bit shocking, but when you think about it, it’s not too strange. Someone of his stature could invite an author without much ado.
The big question is whether I should accept this invitation….
“…If I decline, will it harm Kindersley Publishing?”
“You’re really thinking of turning it down?”
“Uh, to think about it honestly, it feels a bit much. I’m hesitant to show my face at official functions. I’d prefer to keep my pen name and personal life separate.”
“Ah, in that case, we’ll decline for you.”
“…Really?”
Is it really that simple?
“Our priority is your wishes, author. If it’s even slightly inconvenient, we must decline without hesitation.”
“But, could the royal household retaliate or something?”
“Um, honestly, it’s a fifty-fifty. If Prince Idris is kind, there’ll be no issue; if he’s a tightwad, then maybe we’d run into trouble.”
He talks so breezily about depending on the other party’s mood.
Making it sound trivial only confuses me more.
“Just focus on your writing, author. We’ll handle everything else.”
“I’m still not sure…”
“Ha, at worst, you’ll just have your entire clan exterminated, right?”
That’s not something you can just dismiss.
“Just trust me, author. I won’t let anything inconvenience you.”
“…Okay.”
Overwhelmed by Dorling Kindersley’s fervent enthusiasm, I ultimately nodded.
If she insists that much, it should be okay to trust her.
…Right?
* * *
“So you are the author Homer.”
“Author, I’m sorry….”
Having declined the prince’s invitation, the prince himself had come to the publishing house.
Uh, is this a dream?
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