Chapter: 83
After my somewhat comical encounter with the Master of the Black Magic Tower, I found myself quite busy at the Homer Foundation.
I was diving headfirst into a sort of “collection development project.” It wasn’t exactly a grand scheme, more like a project to create an “archive.” I repaired old books, copied the few remaining copies of rare editions, bought the missing ones, and transcribed and disposed of the moldy ones.
As a result, I built a massive library where countless books could be preserved forever.
The space for book preservation was already set up. The plan to erect landmark libraries on every High Street across the Empire was scrapped due to budget constraints, but instead, a brand-new, larger library than the Empire’s central library was constructed in the capital.
That library turned out to be…
[Homer Central Library]
[Founder: Ed Frieden]
Yes, it was the Homer Central Library.
Housing over 10 million volumes, it’s the library with the most collections of its time. Essentially, it housed a majority of the books that existed in this world.
To gather these collections, I received support from many people including the imperial family, the council, the church, the Harren royal family, the Merchant Guild Alliance, and the Beastman community.
“It’s so fragrant that it’s making my head spin… Is this what being a drug addict feels like?”
“Hmm, is that right? Thanks to the purification magic, the air does seem clearer and easier to breathe, but… I’m not sure about the fragrance.”
“Truly beautiful things can only be felt with the heart. Scent is no different.”
I do enjoy the smell of books, but the ridiculously delightful fragrance that was uplifting me at this moment wasn’t the musty scent of old books or the leather smell of hardcovers.
No, it was the scent of freshness.
It was the delightful aroma of clean, pure oxygen, assuring me that no mold could ever tarnish a book.
So truly beautiful things can be felt only with the heart…
“You’re being silly.”
“Well then, what brings you here?”
I asked Zion, clearing my throat a bit.
To celebrate the completion of the library, I’d planned to spend the next few weeks eating and sleeping here. But seeing him pop up out of the blue meant there was something I absolutely needed to know.
Zion nodded and dove straight into the meat of the matter.
“Master, you have a niece on the way.”
“Huh? The due date is already here?”
“Yes. It’s about ten days ahead of schedule.”
“Ah.”
I never thought I’d step into the role of an uncle. Time flies remarkably fast.
Though, considering how much the world has changed, maybe it feels slightly delayed? I’m honestly not sure.
“Did you send the gift to your brother?”
“Yes, but there’s a tiny problem.”
“A problem…? Is something up with your brother’s health because of the early delivery?”
“Not quite. Well, it does have a little to do with the early delivery.”
“Huh?”
“Count Eric’s wife just gave birth to twins.”
…
The gift I prepared for my brother consisted of baby items: things like rattles, baby shoes, cribs, baby cushions, and baby bathtubs—safe for infants who haven’t even hit their first birthday yet. Anything that didn’t exist, I spoke to the Merchant Guild Alliance and the Magic Tower to develop it directly.
In the process, we also created another source of income through patents… which are utilized by the Little Prince Foundation to provide maternity and postpartum support for mothers. A lot of moms still gave birth in homes or unsanitary places during this era.
Anyway.
Fortunately, the gifts wouldn’t go to waste. Because I prepared a gift for both a girl and a boy, I could give presents to both fraternal twins.
Though, there were also some gifts that became unusable.
“My wife wants to order a customized stroller for the twins, so I appreciate the gift, but I’ll need to return this one.”
“Oh, right. Hey, brother. Congrats on becoming a dad.”
The subject here was the stroller.
The stroller I got ready wasn’t made of a fantastic metal called “true silver.” In fact, it was a folding stroller made of aluminum alloy—very rare in this world.
I based it on a design from my previous life, but unfortunately, it ended up being a tad too small for two kids.
“So, what do I do with this stroller…?”
Just like that, the stroller made of aluminum and top-notch fabric returned to me.
In terms adults might understand, it had a production cost comparable to the selling price of a Frieden mansion.
“…Maybe I should throw it up for auction.”
I wouldn’t mind melting down the raw aluminum for a quick cash-in, but since I put it together, I would love for someone to use it.
After all, a stroller is for both the child and the mother.
…
Then one day, an anonymous ad popped up in a newspaper in the Empire.
[For sale: baby stroller. Never used.]
It was an ad for pre-owned baby goods. Since strollers were typically toys for wealthier aristocrats, this ad felt a bit weird.
Many people had opinions about the ad.
Wasn’t the situation a bit strange? Why couldn’t the stroller be used? What happened to the baby? Loads of speculation and rumors swirled around.
Some folks were even contacting the newspaper, wanting to meet the seller.
Yet the newspaper was unforgiving.
“Unless you’re a pregnant mother, or a parent with a newborn who needs a stroller, you can’t meet them.”
Even when some noble from the council swung by in person, the response was the same.
As the whispers spread, absurd rumors began to surface.
“Excuse me, I would like to buy a stroller… But I don’t have much cash… could you tell me its price…?”
A mother expressed her desire to purchase a stroller.
After some identity checks, she was invited to a place where she could buy a stroller.
“Welcome. Please wait a moment for ‘him’ to arrive.”
“Oh, alright…”
In a small building recently constructed right next to the biggest library in the Empire.
The mother awaited her turn in what seemed like a reception room.
A moment later…
The door opened, and a man stepped inside. He looked like a wealthy noble, bowing politely to the mother and apologizing.
“I’m sorry for the wait. I know you should be resting, as you aren’t expecting a single child… but it seems there was a little miscommunication.”
“Oh, no, there’s no need for you to bow so low…”
“You came to pick up the stroller, right?”
“Yes? Yes. But, uh, about the price…”
“The stroller will be a gift from us. Oh, by the way, the Little Prince Foundation is launching a new program to support mothers—are you interested?”
“What?”
“We’re planning to construct a maternity home in the Imperial Capital, and it won’t be far from here, so you needn’t worry.”
“…Wait, are you… who are you?”
The mother gasped as though realizing something.
The man cocked his head, seemingly puzzled, and responded.
“Who, me? Oh wait, you didn’t even catch my name, did you? Zion just called me here like this…”
“……”
“My name is Ed, Count of Frieden. I go by the pen name Homeros.”
“Oh?”
…
I think I might need to give Zion a crash course in first aid at some point.
When I heard they held a mom interested in a stroller and checked her identity for hours, I was astonished. Just think of how crucial it is for mothers to remain calm… to realize they didn’t even know my name beforehand!
Of course, I guess I should take the blame for not setting clear guidelines sooner.
Hmm.
While we’re at it, these things should be handled neatly and sensibly. But, well, it’s mostly Zion’s fault.
“I apologize.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m joking! Just messing around. Anyway, thanks to you, Zion, we found someone in need of a stroller—good news!”
“It’s all thanks to the ad copy you wrote.”
“More accurately, it’s called flash fiction, or sometimes postcard fiction…”
“What?”
“That’s a thing.”
The line I posted in the newspaper [“For sale: baby stroller. Never used.”] was actually inspired by an old American urban legend.
Something like:
[“For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”]
[“For sale: baby shoes. Never worn.”]
It’s often attributed to Hemmingway for being a six-word short story but has very little to do with him.
It’s a classic example of flash fiction—a genre that maximizes imagination using short sentences.
“These legends are also a vital part of literature. You could say urban legends are a sort of modern tale, too.”
“Is that so?”
“Exactly. But I’ve been living in the library for too long lately, and I’m a bit worn out…”
“Really?”
“Huh?”
“Tired…?”
“Of course.”
I’m human, right? Naturally, I’d feel exhausted after spending days in a library, reading books nonstop.
At times like this, a change of scenery is essential.
“Since it’s come to mind, I think I should publish a book.”
“I’ll get everything ready.”
To heal my weary mind through reading.
Plagiarism—or rather, translation!
…
[“He was an old man who fished alone in a carved boat, and after eighty days and four nights, he caught no fish at all.”]
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