Surviving as a Plagiarist in Another World

< Chapter 17: The Little Prince (4) >

The third prince of the empire, Idris.

Now as Lady Es, she seemed relieved, as if she had set down a heavy burden.

Despite the nobility of her lineage, she also looked innocent like a country girl.

“Really, I should have done this earlier! It’s so much easier having Enoch take care of everything. Haha. Now that I can freely leave the palace, I’ll come to visit often, okay?”

“Ah, yes….”

“It hurts when you make it so obvious that you don’t like it….”

“No, it’s just a bit… surprising….”

“Tsk. Liar. Well, it’s fine. I’m busy sorting out the house anyway. I can’t come often. I might not even be able to come at all because I’m teaching Enoch all sorts of things? There are ceremonies and various procedures to take care of.”

“You seem too happy, don’t you?”

“…It’s a misunderstanding.”

Lady Es looked at me with a grin, as if to say she would let it pass just this once.

I couldn’t help but avert my eyes. It felt a bit… like a frog in front of a snake.

I felt like I was about to be devoured by her momentum.

“Really, how can someone be like that? No ambition for honor or money, and not appearing in society?”

“Yes… It’s just that my personality doesn’t really fit with those noisy gatherings.”

“Why do you live?”

“Pardon?”

“Ah, was that too aggressive? Ahem, I mean, what joy do you find in living? You’re a famous writer who stirs up the empire, yet you hide your real name and face. You earn a lot of money from royalties and sponsorships, but you don’t seem to spend it. It must be boring to live like that.”

Lady Es’s question would indeed be a typical one in this world…

But from my perspective, there were few as secularly indulgent as I.

After all, the reason I had squeezed my memories dry to spread the literature of my past life in this world was solely because I wanted to enjoy interesting novels.

So, there was only one answer I could give.

“I live for the joy of reading books. Good books, terrible books, interesting books, complex books… each has its own joy, and savoring the differences is a pleasure in itself.”

“People are really peculiar.”

“Your Highness… Lady Es, didn’t you also enjoy reading books, which is why you supported me so?”

“I’d say it’s less about liking books and more about not having other options!”

Lady Es laughed with a titter, but beneath that laughter lay a chilling shadow.

The sunlight from the window weakened as clouds passed under the sun.

“When I was young, my mother often read me fairy tales. You know, the ones with knights and dragons, and princesses trapped in towers being rescued.”

“Yes.”

“I was quite envious of that princess.”

Lady Es’s eyelids drooped slightly.

A sense of sorrow was palpable. The serpent-like ferocity had vanished, leaving only a delicate girl seated before me.

Suddenly, I realized how small her stature was. Seated on the sofa without her back touching it, she appeared even smaller.

“In fairy tales, it always goes like this. The king cries for the princess to be saved, the knights repeatedly attempt to rescue her, and the people pray in their sadness, hoping for the princess’s deliverance. Everyone knows the princess is trapped in the tower. Everyone wants her to be freed and saved.”

“…”

“I was envious of the fairy tale princess… because no one tried to save me.”

Lady Es’s presence gradually faded.

She seemed so fleeting that a mere gust of wind might cause her to disappear. I tried to open my mouth to say something, but in the end, I could only remain silent and listen to her voice.

“I’m not talking about palace life. My tower… my prison, was my own body. This pure and flawless body, blessed by angels at the decree of Heaven… I’ve been trapped since the moment an angel breathed life into me in the womb…”

“…”

“This small prison is different from fairy tales… no one thought I was trapped. No one even tried to know. To consider this sanctuary created by Heaven as a prison was a sacrilegious act that should not occur. If praying for me is a blasphemy against Heaven, then who could pray for me? No one. Really, no one.”

“…”

“But, um, that’s not what I intended to talk about… The mood has gone all wrong! Anyway, I’m truly grateful to the author. Really, haha.”

“…”

“…Are you crying? Because of me?”

“No, I just thought of the last scene from ‘The Little Prince.’”

Indeed, from Lady Es’s words that her body was a prison, I recalled the ending of ‘The Little Prince.’

The story of how The Little Prince shed his physical form and returned to his own star.

“Do not follow me. It will make me sad. I will appear as if I am dead, but I am not really dying.”

“My star is too far away for this body to reach. My body is too heavy to fly to the star.”

“I have a responsibility for my rose…”

Truly, what is important is invisible to the eye.

The Little Prince, bitten by a viper, sheds his old, shell-like body.

“When you look at the night sky, I will be living on one of those stars. I will even smile. Then, you will be able to see all the stars smiling.”

“You will have a multitude of little stars that can smile!”

The traveler can never forget The Little Prince.

That was the ending of the story of The Little Prince, owning a star that smiles in the night sky.

“If thinking of the ending of The Little Prince makes you cry, it can’t be helped.”

“Yes.”

“It feels strange and joyful to have someone cry for me for the first time.”

“That is a misunderstanding.”

Really, it was a misunderstanding.

* * *

After Lady Es left.

I felt drained and leaned back on the sofa, thankful I always carried a handkerchief.

As I rested, Dorling Kindersley, the President, entered the reception room.

“President.”

“Yes! Author!”

“Could you show me the fan letters of The Little Prince?”

“Oh! Yes, of course!”

The publishing house’s secret vault was filled with fan letters addressed to Homer, the author.

Among them, the most numerous were undoubtedly those for ‘The Little Prince’.

[I cried all day after reading The Little Prince. I bought the fairy tale to read to my child, but I think I was more moved than the child. Thank you for writing such a story.]Nôv(el)B\\jnn

[Thanks to you, Homer, the children at our orphanage are very happy these days. They get to eat lots of delicious bread. Thank you very much!]

I spent a long time reading the fan letters from people who had read The Little Prince.

I quietly mulled over each letter as I read.

“Author?”

“Ah, yes. President. Have I been here too long?”

“Not at all! You can stay as long as you like! Hehe. It seems you were deeply moved by the fan letters.”

“Yes, well…”

In truth, that was not the reason I was looking at the fan letters.

In my previous life, I was merely a plagiarist who translated works into the language of this world.

Instead, I was contemplating my next publication.

Publishing a work when people’s awareness is immature could lead to irreversible problems.

“President.”

“Yes! Author!”

Thus, I read the fan letters carefully…

“Let’s prepare for the publication of the next work.”

After reading the fan letters, I could conclude that it was time to publish.

“Yes! I will prepare everything perfectly so you can publish anytime!”

* * *

Despite being shunned by the heavens, Grey, the beastman, believed in human religion.

Lady Es, who was misunderstood by everyone, had no choice but to repeat her blasphemous prayers alone.

Religious conscience and personal devotion.

There was a work that came to mind as I spoke with them.

“Sion, would you like to read this?”

“Oh, are you bringing out that work?”

I took out a manuscript from the bedside table, sealed in a paper envelope with beeswax just in case Sion had not seen it.

This was a novel I had written at the time of publishing Don Quixote.

Although Sion was aware of this manuscript’s existence, he had not read it as I had instructed him not to until now.

“Ah. It seems it’s time to publish this novel. I’d like to hear your opinion first.”

“It is a great honor to be able to give my opinion to you, sir…!”

Sion received the manuscript with an almost reverent attitude.

He carefully opened the beeswax-sealed paper envelope and took out the bundle of manuscripts.

“It’s not very lengthy, is it?”

Sion gauged the thickness of the bundle and finally opened the first page.

And he began reading the manuscript quietly.

“…”

Sion’s eyes moved busily following the text.

Sion, a fast reader, could finish the manuscript in just an hour.

Finally, as the last page was turned.

When Sion lifted his head…

“Huuh…”

Sion clutched his chest, making a pained expression as if his soul had been drained.

“This is too… painful, isn’t it? I see why you forbade me from reading this novel…”

Romanticism is the soul of literature. And there are novels that must be published for Romanticism to emerge.

However, due to its influence, the publication of this novel had been postponed.

I took the bundle of manuscripts back from Sion. On the very first page, the title of the novel was written in a stylish script.

[The Sorrows of Young Werther]

The Sorrows of Young Werther. That was the title of the novel I was about to publish.