### Chapter 40
“Most things seem to be going according to your plan, young master. This contest should be quite a success too.”
“Plan? It’s not that serious… I just said, ‘It would be nice if this happened.’ We got lucky.”
Since swearing his loyalty to me, Sion had been actively helping out with my ‘hobbies.’
These involved various literature-related tasks. He tackled things that were either too difficult or time-consuming for me—like gathering literary issues and rumors and reporting them back to me.
In my past life, I could’ve collected literary trends through a ‘reading community’…
But here in this world, the only way was to have someone pound the pavement for info. So, I was getting quite a bit of help from Sion.
“There might be even more participants in this contest compared to the ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’ contest.”
“Oh, there’ll definitely be more. Probably overwhelming amounts!”
“Really?”
“Yep. It’s a mystery novel after all. Given the nature of both works, the character fandoms are pretty extensive.”
In these kinds of ‘fan fiction’ contests, the number of participants usually depends on the size of the fandom.
The [Sherlock Holmes X Arsène Lupin] contest in particular had a very clear fandom.
The quirky charm of the mystery genre combined with the attractive characters of ‘Sherlock Holmes’ and ‘Arsène Lupin’ practically made every mystery novel reader part of the ‘fandom.’
“I hope many interesting works come out of it.”
“Hmmm, but if there are too many entries, reading them all could be a chore. Most participants probably struggle with writing, don’t you think?”
“That’s true. Forcing myself to read boring novels is just tiring… But even that kind of fatigue can be enjoyable in its own way.”
“Are you planning to personally read each entry this time too?”
“Yep.”
I answered without an ounce of hesitation.
I didn’t know how many readers would join this contest, but I intended to read every single entry myself.
Instead of creating a ‘filter’ and possibly missing out on hidden gems in the mud, I figured it was better to count each grain of mud myself.
“…You seem quite determined when it comes to reading, young master.”
“I can’t compromise on my hobbies.”
“Won’t you run out of time?”
“Well…”
Considering the submission deadline for the contest and the evaluation period afterward, yeah, it would be tight.
But still.
“If it’s about reading, I can do it all day long.”
“…Alright. Then I’ll prepare everything for a comfortable reading experience.”
“Yeah, thanks as always, Sion.”
“It is my joy, young master.”
* * *
Half and Half Publishing House.
I looked over the contest entries with Mr. Ryan, the head of the publishing house, and Mr. Kindersley, who’d come to help out.
“There are so many entries! Seems like way more than during the contest we held at Kindersley Publishing for ‘Homer.’”
“Yeah, it looks like it’ll be worthwhile to read them.”
Thinking back, I wasn’t really the type to read tons of books in my past life.
Just about one novel of around 300 pages a day was my limit. Anything more, and I didn’t have enough time to read. (Researching for translations doesn’t count as ‘reading,’ right?)
Compared to some friends who read at a library level, I was definitely lacking.
My biggest issue was my ‘speed.’ My habits as a translator often turned reading into a marathon as I’d be endlessly looking up notes or the original text.
Fortunately, this issue was resolved in an absurd way after I reincarnated into this world.
“Why was this book excluded from the candidates, author? I thought it was really interesting and different!”
“Oh, that’s because it’s plagiarized. It took sentences and events from a few not-so-famous novels and just mixed them up. ‘Valley of the Blue Spring,’ ‘Black Cross,’ ‘Rills and Heine,’ ‘Garic Walk,’ ‘The Man with a Gun,’ ‘The Village without a Caretaker,’ you name it.”
“You read all of those…?”
“Yeah, I’ve read all the books published by Kindersley Publishing and most popular books from other publishers too.”
“What?”
“There are a lot of interesting books out there.”
Thanks to having read ‘all’ the famous novels in this world, I could easily recall related novels without needing to search for notes or references.
In essence, I could dive deep into my reading even with speed reading.
Of course, if it was a novel packed with deep wordplay like those by ‘Rolls Camel,’ I’d still slowly savor each sentence.
But for mystery novels, which focus more on ‘tricks’ and ‘clues,’ it didn’t even take me an hour to finish a single book.
“Is that even possible…?”
“If you have the knack for it.”
“Is it really just a knack…?”
In my past life in Korea, some folks were running sessions about ’10-minute reading methods.’
I had my doubts if that stuff could really count as reading. Just cramming the plot into your head isn’t really ‘reading.’
I thought that the joy of reading lay in the ‘process,’ so I often took my time when I found a genuinely good book.
But for the purpose of filtering out subpar novels, it was totally doable to toss out one work in ten minutes. It felt like that’s how long it took to review the work of newbie translators back in my past life.
It was just the difference between hobby and work.
“If my laziness leads me to miss out on a good novel, that would be a loss. So, I end up reading even more novels. Even if it seems terrible, I’ll still give it a shot.”
“Still, I’d think for someone like you, Herodotus, you’d be able to tell from the very first sentence if a novel is good or not.”
“Well, sure, a terrible novel tends to show its flaws right from the first sentence, but––.”
I grabbed one of the entries and casually tossed it into the ‘accepted’ pile.
Mr. Kindersley, who was reading along, frowned but seemed inclined to check out a bit more since I had deemed it ‘accepted.’
It tickled my funny bone just a bit.
“If you judge a novel by its opening line, wouldn’t the other unread lines feel unfair? Father Brown, like Sherlock Holmes, can deduce someone’s profession by just looking at their collar, but he listens to their story first to avoid falling into prejudice. Holmes sometimes gets himself into a jam due to his preconceptions.”
“Haha! It seems Father Brown made quite an impression on you too! As expected, his stories are quite entertaining, just like Homer’s works! Still, I personally find your Sherlock Holmes stories to be the most fun mystery novels!”
“Pfft.”
“Haha.”
“Why are you both laughing?”
Mr. Ryan, who was oblivious to the fact that I was ‘Homer,’ jumped into the conversation.
Thanks to him, Mr. Kindersley and I burst into laughter.
Only Mr. Ryan stood there, utterly perplexed, tilting his head. I wondered if I’d ever get around to revealing to him that I was ‘Homer.’ Who knows?
“This should be enough sorting for today. Is it alright if I take the remaining entries home to read?”
“Of course! Go ahead, Herodotus! Haha!”
“Thanks!”
“Not at all!”
* * *
Father Brown was a mystery novel centered around contradictions.
This story didn’t require any grand tricks or logical rationality. The author behind Father Brown—‘G. K. Chesterton’—had a profound understanding of the contradictions and distortions people create for themselves.
He possessed a keen intuition to see through the messy yet extraordinary crimes born from misunderstandings.
This approach of ‘psychological deduction’ influenced the works of the Queen of Mystery, Lady Agatha Christie, and her royal prowess extended into modern days, shaping numerous Japanese mystery novels.
If you’ve read those quirky, convoluted ‘Japanese mystery novels,’ you could say you’ve touched works that were influenced by Chesterton.
And these ‘internal human contradictions’ knew no boundaries of time or place.
Anyone reading ‘Father Brown’ in any era would inevitably grasp how thoughtfully it was crafted.
“…Ha ha. Really, thank you… I can’t even imagine how I could repay this kindness… You, Homer, truly are a benefactor to all beastfolk.”
And it was the same for beastfolk.
Born unable to forget their ‘beastly instincts,’ they had faced persecution for ages. Grey, the gray wolf who represented them, bowed his head in gratitude towards me.
“What have I done? It’s all thanks to the Church’s generosity.”
“This has genuinely… This has been the long-held dream of all beastfolk for ages… Really, it has been forever… Haha… If I were to die today, I’d have no regrets…”
The reason Grey was thanking me so much was pretty straightforward.
Originally, beastfolk were a race not blessed by human divinity and thus couldn’t receive ‘baptism.’
“That a mere half-beast like me… could receive baptism…”
I had been baptized by the Protestant priests I got to know through ‘Father Brown.’
“Uh, are you okay? You’re crying…”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Just an old fool… Too happy to control my emotions…”
I hadn’t meant to drop Grey into ‘Protestantism’ from the get-go.
I introduced him to it purely at the Church’s request.
* * *
[“How did you figure all of this out? Are you a demon?”]
[“I am human.”]
[“And because I am human, all demons reside within me.”]
After finishing ‘Father Brown’ one ordinary day while reading trending mystery novels and pondering which novel to plagiarize next, the Protestant priests approached me with a ridiculous request.
“We kindly ask that you rebuke the Venerable.”
“…Pardon?”
“Please, we beg you.”
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