Chapter 75
Before setting out on the trip.
Just in case Nureongi came to the empty house and started barking and fussing, I kindly hung a sign on the front door that said, 'Shh, on a trip.'
I went to the troupe leader's office with Historie.
“Wow, what's that?”
“Ahh—this thing?”
I see.
He doesn't know.
This is—
“It's a travel backpack. Please don't mind it, Master.”
“I see. You're only going to be away for a little while, but you've packed quite a lot.”
Before I could even say my line, Kkangtong had already bowed and politely answered the troupe leader.
Because of that, I lost my chance to brag.
Normally, when one of these modern inventions appears, the proper reaction is, 'Ooh! What is that? How can a bag be made so intricately out of such a miraculous new material? Hey, hey!'
Apparently not one for making a fuss, the troupe leader just gave it a glance and went back to packing his own things.
Such a shame.
I waited a little.
“Welcome, Your Highness.”
“I'm a bit late, aren't I? Let us depart.”
The Second Prince, Aizen, also entered the troupe leader's office without hesitation, dressed in very light clothes and having his light luggage carried by his secretary.
Because he cheerfully declared that we should set off right away.
I lost my chance to show off the suitcase I'd brought—the long-distance travel essential made of durable, lightweight polycarbonate, with a secure lock and a carry-on-friendly size.
“Kim Yul, are you thinking something stupid again?”
“Urk...”
Today, I would absolutely prove the value of my 440,000 won.
.
.
.
A long time ago, when I had gone up to the imperial capital, I had traveled by train.
So I naturally thought we would be going to the train station, but—
“This is...?”
“Now that I think about it, I heard from Seraphine that you had been into a rift before too. That's right, a rift it is.”
Under the prince and the guards' escort, we arrived at some place beneath the imperial capital.
At a glance, an intricately crafted magic circle had been engraved into the floor.
And atop that magic circle, a rift exuding a sinister aura was gaping wide open, tearing through space.
My expression must have looked pretty bad.
“The space inside a rift is detached from reality. But the entry and exit points are always the same, so under strict control, it's used to move a small number of people.”
The troupe leader added this and that to explain it to me.
As if to prove it was safe.
The Second Prince shoved his secretary into the rift first, then boldly stepped in himself, only to be swallowed up moments later.
“How fascinating.”
Next, Kkangtong was sucked in smoothly.
“You, perhaps...”
“Of course not.”
For some reason, it felt like the troupe leader was about to blurt out, 'Scared?' So I boldly stepped into the rift as well.
The same uncanny feeling I'd sensed before.
Then my vision suddenly flipped completely and I reveled in the strange sensation.
“Honestly, the air is really foul.”
When I looked up at Historie's deadpan, pro-air-sommelier reaction.
“Oh.”
Unlike the bleak scenery where we'd been dropped into nothing but empty wasteland before, this time we arrived at a fairly convincing-looking outpost.
“Welcome, Your Highness!”
“All clear on duty!”
Watching the soldiers and mages guarding the rift salute us so politely, and the prince wave off any need for ceremony, I took it all in for a moment.
“I really don't like this place whenever I come here. Historie, do you get what I mean?”
“Yes. The mana concentration in the air is extremely thin. It is indeed a place where using magic feels difficult.”
The master mage and his apprentice chatted away cheerfully.
Hmm.
It felt like my graduate student had become the slave of another lab.
Only now did I think I could understand a supervisor's heart a little.
I remembered that bittersweet memory of someone treating me to something delicious while gaslighting me with, “A master's degree alone doesn't get anyone recognized, so let's go all the way and get a doctorate too.”
“Kkangtong.”
“Yes.”
“Do you like me, or do you like magic better?”
It had been a joke when I asked.
“Naturally, Kim Yul is the number one priority in my life.”
At that serious answer,
I could only stare blankly at Historie's face, unable to find words for a moment.
“Now, now. Put the lovey-dovey stuff on hold for a bit; we've still got a long way to go, you know?”
Hmm.
I suppose that reaction was because I'm his creator.
Something like the Three Laws of Robotics.
Or something like that...
I shook off the hollow feeling and started walking after the rest of the group.
* * *
When we came out of the rift's long corridor, we were in a port town.
Unfortunately, the bottom of the night didn't turn white, and no train stopped at the signal station.
“I feel like I can breathe again, Kim Yul.”
The frown that had been deeply creased on Kkangtong's brow finally smoothed out.
For an ordinary mortal like me, who couldn't feel mana, it was just as unpleasant as walking through Seoul during a terrible yellow-dust storm.
Seeing the troupe leader also draw a deep breath, it seemed to be an environment that was definitely poison to mages.
But isn't there a mage in the hero's party too?
“Those kids usually prepare magic scrolls in advance, or else they spend several days outside the rift memorizing.”
“Memorizing?”
“After fully internalizing magic, they meticulously engrave it onto their own bodies. Now, look.”
The troupe leader lifted his robe and showed me his forearm.
There, a bizarre pattern that was both highly geometric and metaphysical glowed with a faint blue light.
It wasn't a Celtic tattoo or anything, so what on earth was that?
I'm not into tattooed women. Middle-aged married women, either, for that matter.
Anyway,
Leaving Kkangtong and the troupe leader to resume their magic talk, I took a deep breath.
“Haa...”
This salty sea scent.
I shivered for a moment at the feeling that I should be roaming these fishy-smelling docks as though they were my world.
The Second Prince's secretary came over.
“Mr. Kim Yul, Historie. I will show you to your lodging. As for the troupe leader, please go see the prince.”
“Sure.”
The troupe leader was here for work.
But Kkangtong and I were here to play.
As we walked toward the lodging we'd been shown, I chatted with Historie about various things.
The main topic was, as expected, my next work.
It had also recently become my biggest worry.
“I don't really want to write another story centered on war three times in a row, but I can't find a suitable subject without war.”
“Didn't human history originally develop by people killing one another? If there had been a strong leader capable of suppressing war itself—say, Skynet's rule—”
“Stop.”
“Tsk.”
I hurriedly stopped Kkangtong, who still couldn't give up on his dream of conquering humanity and was trying to attach a mustache to his philtrum.
“A subject we can discuss without politics or war. Then how about approaching it economically and dealing with the Tulip Bubble?”
It wasn't a bad idea.
“It might be a little awkward to carry it into a full-length novel, though, unless you went as far as covering Isaac Newton's life and mentioning the South Sea Company affair as well.”
“Hmm. Kim Yul's point is certainly valid. In web novels, the Tulip Bubble or a Ponzi scheme can often be interesting when used as a one-off episode.”
Certainly, something I'd felt while writing Joan of Arc and Yi Sun-sin.
Looking at a person's life itself felt more fitting for an ongoing novel, and it was easier for me to carry the story along.
If not for the obvious truth that human beings die someday...
“But that's because Zhuge Liang died in such an awkward way, isn't it? If Sima Yi had been the protagonist, he'd have done everything and then died, so there wouldn't have been much objection.”
“That's true too.”
It was never my intention, of course.
For some reason, the people I used as material always had death itself become a tragedy.
“At that point, I have to wonder if that might just be your taste, Kim Yul.”
“To think you'd see me as someone who slaps on a light-angst tag. I actually prefer a mild-angst tag over a full angst tag.”
“The thing about mild angst is that it ends up even harsher than full angst.”
“Hmm.”
I was momentarily at a loss for words after being hit in the solar plexus by an irrefutable fact.
Fortunately, the lodging wasn't far away, so we soon arrived.
The moment I opened the door.
“As expected.”
“Your deduction was correct.”
Instead of a cozy laboratory,
the lodging's interior greeted us, lavishly decorated yet still ultimately stuck somewhere between medieval and early modern standards.
Well...
It wasn't bad, exactly.
“You'd better use your battery sparingly.”
“Tsk.”
Unfortunately, until we returned, I could only use the laptop in ultra power-saving mode.
Ah.
I really want the Industrial Revolution now.
* * *
Since the claim that they were my younger cousin had been accepted as academic orthodoxy,
I also protested the harsh treatment of being given only one room and one bed in this primitive, ancient, uncivilized fantasy land, even though I had no idea what cousin relationships even meant here.
After shedding bloody tears over the somewhat disappointing state of the remaining room, I simply requested extra bedding and spent the night sleeping on the floor. Then, the next day,
“Do not... tell them... of my death...”
Along with the cries of Navy personnel who'd suffered major culture shock from the actor's passionate performance as Yi Sun-sin.
The reenacted Song of Heroes and the Sea came to an end.
“The direction has changed quite delicately.”
“Yeah. The warship designs have all been changed to the ones we saw at the harbor earlier. Except for the turtle ship.”
“The turtle ship can't be helped.”
It had been given the full military makeover through adaptation, but well.
That's just how military content is.
Still, seeing the soldiers give a standing ovation with resolute faces, I felt like the morale-boosting performance had done its duty.
Stand up, you too!
Swallowing the nonsense I wanted to blurt out, I glanced sideways at the Second Prince beside me.
“Indeed, it's still moving. The direction is superb too... I should increase my investment in the troupe a little more.”
Even so, our prince did make sure the give-and-take stayed balanced.
.
.
.
After the play ended.
I wasn't sitting in the audience by myself... before I knew it, I got dragged off to the after-party.
If it had been an after-party with the actors, I'd have shared drinks with our half-goblin, Mr. Grodek, whose mother was a goblin.
“Heh heh, it was a deeply moving story, Your Highness.”
“It certainly tugs at a seafarer's heart.”
Unfortunately, where I was dragged was a far too dreary, unexciting stage with the Second Prince and the officers.
What's more, those seal bastards were so soaked in machismo that, leaving out the troupe leader and Kkangtong, they turned the after-party into a total sausage fest.
This is why army dogs and sea dogs don't mix.
Glory to Boramae.
“Come to think of it, did you say you were the screenwriter?”
“Ah, yes.”
A soldier who looked every bit like a Junker spoke to me curtly.
“It was quite a dramatic story, but it seems you don't properly understand naval warfare. No matter if it's a novel or a play, the admiral's flagship charging in front? And with just a little over ten ships, against a fleet of more than 200? I felt like the imagination was a bit too excessive. It's extremely lacking in realism, so I hope you'll keep that in mind next time.”
Hmm...
Feeling as if my art and historical accuracy had been denied, I momentarily failed to keep my expression in check.
“Sir Winston, that's enough. If you start invoking realism in heroic exploits, how are miraculous battles supposed to happen?”
The Second Prince came to my rescue, but Winston the bastard still...
That general, who looked like he was about to crash into Gallipoli with orangutan-level intelligence, kept picking a fight with me.
It was the sort of moment that made me want to channel Hector.
“Sir Winston. What disrespect is this toward someone I invited? If you look at the other works by author Ulysses, you'll see that this person clearly understands military strategy.”
“I'm sorry, Your Highness, but the matter of introducing that Cheonja Chongtong cannon is also something we can't help worrying about from the navy's perspective. How could such a greenhorn possibly understand the complexity of the battlefield?”
The prince was defending me,
and Winston was going after me, and their voices grew increasingly heated.
As I briefly savored the feeling of being the protagonist of a romance fantasy and soothed myself by imagining Nureongi's gently swaying tail,
“Then we'll settle it with a war game. I think this young man could probably beat you easily enough.”
“Ha! By all means. If I lose, I'll accept Your Highness's naval reform plan without complaint.”
What?
Me?
In a war game?
That sounds fun.