Like Smut Written by a Virgin Who's Never Dated

A full two weeks.

Until the festival began, I busied myself running around the capital as a member of the knight order, resolving incidents.

Some were minor, while quite a few had nearly turned into major accidents.

I stopped them all before they could happen.

Of course, I did think that for a moment.

'If something happens and I stop it, won't I rack up a little more merit?'

That would make a bigger impact.

Preventing things like this did feel a bit bland from the outside, after all.

But I quickly dismissed the thought.

'No matter how much of a slave I am, I can't stop being human.'

If I can stop it, I should.

I, Leon,

am not that depraved.

“I never imagined there would be so many problems lurking in the capital……. We nearly had a catastrophe.”

Richard muttered with a grave expression as he read the report.

He had apparently never expected there would be so many dangers in the imperial capital of all places.

'How could he have expected it?'

They're all gimmicks meant to prop up Elodie.

If other people notice and solve them, the very point of the event disappears.

I only know because I'm me; not knowing is the natural thing.

“For incidents to be occurring in such succession, there has to be someone behind them. How is the interrogation of the magic tool shop owner going?”

“No progress. We suspect he's under a confidentiality contract.”

“Can't it be lifted?”

“We're trying, but it doesn't seem easy.”

“I see……. Keep at it.”

Richard looked at me.

“Good work, Leon. If not for you, we really might have been in serious trouble.”

“Not at all. I only did what I had to. More than anything, I was just lucky.”

“Just lucky, huh. Seems you’re rather favored by the goddess of fortune.”

There was a barb in his words.

Richard cast a suspicious glance at me, someone who had piled up a remarkable string of achievements in a short time.

He must be wondering if I'm secretly in league with them.

I can understand that.

It's a reasonable suspicion.

But who am I?

A slave.

At times like this, it's practically an invincible status shield.

“Sir Richard, what am I?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m a slave. My master is Her Imperial Highness the Princess. How could I possibly do anything that would threaten the empire?”

It's common knowledge that a slave cannot deliberately harm their master.

There was no way I could be in cahoots with the people causing trouble.

“I am a slave who can do nothing without Her Imperial Highness's permission. Doubting me is no different from doubting Her Imperial Highness. Or could Sir Richard…….”

“Hey now. I’m only saying that because your achievements are beyond imagination. That was a dangerous thing to say.”

“I was joking.”

“That’s a joke that chills the blood.”

Richard let out a long sigh.

“Once the festival ends safely, I’ll make sure to speak well of your contributions to His Majesty. You may go now.”

“Thank you.”

I bowed and left the knights’ building.

'So now only the mana-stone lamp remains.'

If I handle that properly, I can get through the Founding Festival safely.

I've made every possible preparation, so there's nothing to worry about. I just need to do my part properly.

As I walked on, I arrived at the princess's palace.

As if it were only natural, my steps led me to the front of Aurora's study.

-Knock, knock.

“I’m here.”

“Oh? Oh. Come in.”

When I opened the door and went in, I found Aurora seated at her desk, deeply focused on something.

“Are you done with your mission?”

“For today, yes. Were you writing?”

“Yeah.”

As I joined the knight order and began working, Aurora naturally spent more time writing on her own.

'This is how it should be.'

What kind of person would leave all the writing to a slave and call themselves an author?

The world is finally turning a little more correctly.

“How is it? Is the writing going well?”

“Aaaah…….”

“Noona?”

“I’m so tired I could die…….”

Aurora slumped across the desk like slime.

“Let me take a look.”

I picked up the stack of manuscript pages on the desk.

“Be gentle.”

“I’m not planning to hit you.”

“You hit with words.”

“That’s constructive feedback.”

“That hurts more…….”

Aurora muttered in a dying voice.

I checked the first page of the manuscript.

[My First Love Turned Out to Be a Tyrant].

It was a novel with that title.

“Hmm.”

“What do you think?”

“The title isn't bad, at least.”

She had clearly drawn inspiration from reading my writing.

It already has a familiar feel just from the title alone.

One bonus point.

I turned the page.

The content was more standard than I expected.

Eileen, the daughter of an impoverished baron.

After being separated from the boy Rowan, with whom she had shared her heart as a child, due to unavoidable circumstances, she meets him again years later at an imperial palace ball.

The problem was that the boy she had thought was an ordinary noble was actually the infamous Imperial Prince, a tyrant whose name had recently spread far and wide.

“The setup is good, too.”

“Right?”

Not bad.

First love.

Reunion.

Misunderstanding.

Obsession.

Tyrant.

It was packed with ingredients readers would love.

The cruel male lead is gentle and kind only in front of me.

He grovels and clings to me.

That's pure comfort-food material.

I flipped through a few more pages.

When Rowan reaches out his hand to Eileen, the nobles around them hold their breath.

It was surprising enough that the tyrannical Imperial Prince asked someone to dance first, but even more so when that someone was the young lady of a fallen baron’s house.

“The reactions from the surrounding extras are good, too.”

These are the kinds of reactions only the protagonist can bring out; that’s the appeal.

The emotional depiction was decent.

The confusion of meeting a first love again, the gap between the rumors of a tyrant and the boy in her memories.

Relief at his continued kindness toward her, and the unease she felt at the same time.

The emotional writing was a little shallow, but compared to what Aurora had written before, it was a huge improvement.

I turned to the next page.

A new character appeared.

Her name was Serena.

A duke's daughter famous in imperial high society.

A woman who had lingered around Rowan's side for a long time, and there were rumors she would become empress.

A textbook supporting young lady.

She’s the type who envies the heroine, torments her, and later falls from grace.

Just like Renoa in the original.

A foil to the protagonist is comfort-food material too. That’s a good use of a character.

But then.

'……What is this.'

As I read, I felt a strange sense of discomfort.

It was Serena herself that gave me that feeling.

She did everything she could to win over the prince she liked, sparing no means or methods to see him smile.

When Rowan saw Eileen, he smiled at her—a smile he had never once shown Serena.

Even this was a very standard progression, but the problem was Serena’s emotional portrayal.

[

Serena did not recognize that smile. More precisely, she did not want to recognize it.

She thought Rowan was someone who didn't know how to smile. Since he was someone who didn't smile, that was fine.

Because he was not kind to anyone, she could bear the kindness she herself did not receive.

But that wasn't it.

He did know how to smile.

He had simply never given that smile to her.]

“Something feels…… different.”

“What does?”

“Serena’s emotional expression. It’s much more heartfelt and vivid than when you described Eileen’s feelings.”

How should I put it.

If Eileen's case felt contrived, as if you were forcing out feelings you didn't even know just to write them,

Serena's emotional portrayal had raw feeling, as if you had experienced it yourself.

Jealousy.

Inferiority.

Misery.

In other words, she's the most alive character in this novel.

“Especially this part.”

I pointed at a sentence in the manuscript with my finger.

[

Serena hated Eileen. But the moment Eileen smiled kindly at her, that hatred lost its place to go.

]

“I really like this part.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Serena’s swirling emotions, her complex inner self, come through really well. For a moment, I thought it was personal experience.”

Aurora, who probably had never experienced jealousy in her life, managed this level of emotional expression.

I was honestly blown away.

“Personally, I think it has depth, which is nice. But I think it’ll be difficult to use as is.”

“Why? You just said you liked it.”

“The difference in emotional depth between Eileen and Serena is too big. At this rate, readers will get invested in Serena, not Eileen.”

“Then?”

“It’d be a waste to tone down Serena’s emotions, so we should raise Eileen’s emotional arc.”

Otherwise, the protagonist Eileen would be overshadowed by the supporting character Serena.

“Hmm, I wonder if I can…….”

“Since you were able to write Serena’s emotional expression, I’m sure you can do it. And another point to consider would be Serena’s identity.”

“Identity?”

“Based on what's written so far, it's ambiguous whether she’s a villain or not. It’d be better to decide clearly.”

Aurora fell into thought for a moment.

“I…… don’t want to make her too evil. I think that would be too pitiful.”

I could understand that.

When you write, you naturally grow attached to your characters. Villains are no exception.

You want to give them a backstory, run them through the redemption wash, and leave room for them to be happy.

It was also the biggest reason a novel never went according to its originally planned plot.

“Then how about this?”

“How?”

“Someone who is jealous but doesn't want to become ugly. Someone who wants to hate, but hates the self that is doing the hating even more.”

“That…… is good. Someone who is jealous but doesn't want to become ugly. Someone who wants to hate, but hates the self that is doing the hating even more.”

Fortunately, it seemed to suit her perfectly.

Aurora repeated my words under her breath, her blue eyes lingering with the afterglow.

Of course, this could give it the feel of dual protagonists, but however you write it, as long as it’s written well, that’s what matters.

“I’ll be here to look over it with you, so let’s improve it little by little.”

At last, behaving like a proper assistant, I was no longer directly writing the novel myself, but supporting Aurora’s writing at her side.

Since the main focus was romance, what needed emphasis more than the story was the relationships between the characters and their emotional changes.

In particular, the emotional depiction of Eileen, the protagonist whose immersion factor was relatively weaker, was the top priority for improvement.

I thought we could improve it sufficiently by looking at Serena’s emotional portrayal.

It didn’t take long to realize that was my mistake.

“No, for a character who’s just realized what love is, the emotions are way too stiff and thin. I’m telling you to write it a little softer, with a tingling, fluttery feeling.”

She had written Serena’s jealous emotions magnificently, as if they were her own, while Eileen’s were utterly dismal.

This is exactly what it would feel like to read erotica written by some virgin who’d never even dated, let alone had sex.

“Have you never dated in your life? I could drag in a kid from the neighborhood and they’d write this better.”

“Geez, how am I supposed to have dated…….”

“Take a look at the letter Lady Valdis wrote to me. Even from a quick glance, it’s full of effort——”

-Snap.

In an instant, the quill Aurora was holding snapped in half.

“…….”

“……I’ll stay quiet.”

I decided to stay quiet and not get in the way.